THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND

by

JULES VERNE

Unabridged translation

from the French by

Sidney Kravitz

Original illustrations by

Jules-Descartes Férat

The Castaways from the Sky

The Abandoned

The Secret of the Island

Translation copyright © 1992 by Sidney Kravitz, 592 Herrick Drive, Dover, New Jersey 07801-2013

This translation may be distributed and copied freely, in its entirety, for personal use. All original translator and copyright information must remain intact. Any sales or other uses of this document are expressly forbidden without the specific consent of the translator and copyright owner.

This unedited translation by Sidney Kravitz was subsequently edited by Arthur B. Evans and, together with an introduction and critical material by William Butcher, was published in 2001 by Wesleyan University Press. The ISBN of the hard cover version of this edition is 0-8195-6475-3. The ISBN of the soft cover version is 0-8195-6559-8. To purchase a copy, call toll-free at 1-800-421-1561 or order online at UPNE.

Edited to HTML by Zvi Har'El

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Zvi Har’El

I am a senior lecturer in the Department of Mathematics at the Technion, Israel Institute of Technology. I have been here since 1978, after spending two years in the University of Illinois, Urbana, IL. Later, I spent two more years in Bell Labs, Murray Hill, NJ, and three semesters in IBM Research Lab in Haifa. I am married to Zahava, have three children: Nadav, Gilead (1977-1996) and Michal, and a grand daughter: Gili.

Some of my mathematical papers:

Uniform Solution for Uniform Polyhedra

Geometriae Dedicata 47 (1993), 57-110.

Curvature of Curves and Surfaces — a Parabolic Approach

Gauss Formula for the Julian Date of Passover

The Torah Reading Sequence

Some software packages I wrote:

kaleido

Uniform Polyhedra - Computation and 3D Display. See the Virtual Reality Models produced by Kaleido and the Java demo.

pp

A pretty printing utility.

hebgroff

Hebrew fonts for Groff.

il-uni.map

Unicode Hebrew/English keyboard map for Linux. The older 8-bit map is still available.

gauss

Hebrew calendar programs, using Gauss formula for the Julian date of Passover. If you prefer, the programs are also implemented in Java. FYI, today is . the calendar or an iCalendar file ( holidays only) for the year Anno Mundi, in selected= "selected" value="en"> English selected= "selected" value="he"> עברית , selected= "selected" value="d"> diaspora selected= "selected" value="i"> Israel style.

You can learn about my ICD and browse in my Jules Verne, Andersen and Escher pages. You can use my public key to send me mail. See you around on the Web!

Dr. Zvi Har'El      mailto:rl@math.technion.ac.il    Department of Mathematics

tel:+972-54-4227607                  Technion - Israel Institute of Technology

fax:+972-4-8293388  http://www.math.technion.ac.il/~rl/    Haifa 32000, ISRAEL

"If you can't say somethin' nice, don't say nothin' at all." -- Thumper (1942)

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2008/01/30 11:48:24 $

THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND

First Part

THE CASTAWAYS FROM THE SKY

Chapter I

The storm of 1865—Crisis in the sky—A balloon swept along in a waterspout—The torn casing—Nothing but the sea in sight—Five passengers—What occurred in the basket—A coast on the horizon—The denouement of the drama.

Chapter II

An episode of the Civil War—The engineer Cyrus Smith—Gideon Spilett—The Negro Neb—The sailor Pencroff—Young Herbert—An unexpected proposition—Rendez-vous at ten o'clock in the evening—Departure in the storm.

Chapter III

Five o'clock in the evening—The missing person—Neb's despair—Search to the north—The islet—A wretched night of anguish—The morning fog—Neb swims—View of the land—Fording the channel.

Chapter IV

Lithodomes—The river's mouth—The “Chimneys”—Continuation of the search—Evergreen forest—Providing fuel—Waiting for the ebb—On the heights—The raft of wood—Return to the shore.

Chapter V

Arrangement of the Chimneys—The important question of fire—The box of matches—Search on the shore—Return of the reporter and Neb—A single match!—A crackling fireplace—The first supper—The first night on land.

Chapter VI

The inventory of the castaways—Nothing—Burnt linen—An excursion in the forest—Evergreen flora—The jacamar escapes—Trace of wild beasts—The couroucous—Grouse—A curious fishing line.

Chapter VII

The reporter's reflections—Supper—Neb has not yet returned— A bad night coming on—A frightful storm—Departure during the night—Struggling against the rain and the wind—Eight miles from the first encampment.

Chapter VIII

Is Cyrus Smith living?—Neb's recital—Footprints—An unresolved question—Cyrus Smith's first words—The identification of footprints—Return to the Chimneys—Pencroff overwhelmed.

Chapter IX

Cyrus is here—Pencroff's endeavors—Rubbed wood—Island or continent?—The engineer's plans—Where in the Pacific Ocean?—In the depth of the forest—The pine kernel—Hunting capybara—A smoke that augurs well.

Chapter X

The engineer's invention—The question that preoccupies Cyrus Smith—The departure for the mountain—The forest—Volcanic soil—Tragopans—Wild sheep—The first plateau—The encampment for the night—The summit of the cone.

Chapter XI

At the summit of the cone—The interior of the crater—The sea all around—No land in sight—Bird's eye view of the shore—Hydrography and orography—Is the island inhabited?—Naming the bays, gulfs, capes, rivers, etc.—Lincoln Island.

Chapter XII

Setting the watches—Pencroff is satisfied—A suspicious smoke—The course of Red Creek—The flora of Lincoln Island—The fauna—Mountain pheasants—Pursuing kangaroos—Agouti—Lake Grant—Return to the chimneys.

Chapter XIII

What is found on Top—Making bows and arrows—A brickyard—The kiln for pottery—Various kitchen utensils—The first broth—Wormwood—The southern cross—An important astronomical observation.

Chapter XIV

The measurement of the granite wall—An application of the theorem of similar triangles—The latitude of the island—An excursion to the north—An oyster bed—Future projects —The sun's passage on the meridian—The coordinates of Lincoln Island.

Chapter XV

Wintering is definitely decided—The metallurgical question—Exploration of Safety Island—Seal Hunt—Capture of an echidna—The koala—The so-called Catalan Method—Making iron—How to obtain steel.

Chapter XVI

The question of a dwelling is treated anew—Pencroff's fantasies—An exploration to the north of the lake—The northern border of the plateau—Serpents—The extremity of the lake—Top's uneasiness—Top swimming—A combat under the waters—The dugong.

Chapter XVII

A visit to the lake—An indication of the current—Cyrus Smith's plans—The fat from the dugong—Using pyritic schist—Iron sulfate—How glycerin is made—Soap—Saltpeter—Sulphuric acid—Nitric acid—The new falls.

Chapter XVIII

Pencroff no longer doubts anything—The old overflow of the lake—A subterranean descent—The passage through the granite—Top disappears—The central cavern—The lower well—Mystery—A blow from the pick—The return.

Chapter XIX

Cyrus Smith's plan—The front of Granite House—The cord ladder—Pencroff's daydreams—Aromatic herbs—A natural warren—Diverting the water for the needs of the new dwelling—The view from the windows of Granite House.

Chapter XX

The rainy season—The question of clothing—A hunt for seals—Making candles—Work inside Granite House—Two bridges—Return visit to the oyster bed—What Herbert finds in his pocket.

Chapter XXI

Several degrees below zero—Exploration of the marshy part of the southeast—The colpeos—View of the sea—A conversation on the future of the Pacific Ocean— The incessant work of the infusoria—What will become of the globe—The hunt—Tadorn's marsh.

Chapter XXII

Traps—Foxes—Peccaries—Sudden northwest wind—Snowstorm—Basket makers—Deepest frost of the winter—The crystallization of maple sugar—The mysterious well—The planned exploration—The lead bullet.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har'El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Castaways from the Sky

Chapter I

The storm of 1865—Crisis in the sky—A balloon swept along in a waterspout—The torn casing—Nothing but the sea in sight—Five passengers—What occurred in the basket—A coast on the horizon—The denouement of the drama.

“ARE we rising?”

“No! On the contrary! We are descending!”

“Worse than that, Mister Cyrus! We are falling!”

“For heaven’s sake, throw out the ballast!”

“There. The last sack is overboard!”

“Does the balloon rise?”

“No!”

“I hear the clacking of waves!”

“The sea is under the basket!”

“It cannot be five hundred feet from us!”

Then a powerful voice rent the air and these words resounded:

“Overboard with everything heavy!... Everything! We are in God’s hands!”

Such were the words which erupted in the sky above the vast watery desert of the Pacific about four o’clock in the evening of the 23rd of March 1865.

Without doubt no one can forget the terrible northeast storm that burst forth during the equinox of that year when the barometer fell to seven hundred ten millimeters. It was a storm that lasted from the 18th to the 26th of March without letup. It ravaged America, Europe and Asia over a broad zone of eighteen hundred miles around a line oblique to the equator, from the thirty fifth north parallel to the fortieth south parallel. Towns overthrown, forests uprooted, shores devastated by the mountains of water which fell upon them as tidal waves, record bureaus counting hundreds of vessels thrown on the coast, entire territories leveled by the waterspouts which pulverized everything in their path, several thousand people crushed on land or swallowed by the sea, these were the marks of fury left behind by this formidable storm. It surpassed the disasters which so frightfully ravaged Havana and Guadalupe, one on the 25th of October 1810, the other on the 26th of July 1825.

At the very moment when so many catastrophes were taking place on land and on sea a drama no less startling was being enacted in the agitated skies.

In fact a balloon, carried like a ball at the top of a waterspout and caught by the gyratory motion of a column of air, was traveling through space with a velocity of ninety miles per hour [1] turning around itself as if it had been seized by an aerial whirlpool.

A basket oscillated beneath the lower appendage of the balloon. It contained five passengers, barely visible in this thick fog mixed with pulverized water which extended down to the ocean’s surface.

From whence came this balloon, this veritable plaything of the frightful tempest? From which point on the earth’s surface did it take off? Evidently it could not have left during the storm. But the storm had already lasted for five days and its first symptoms were manifested on the 18th. Wouldn’t one be justified in believing that this balloon came from quite a distance, because it had not traversed less than two thousand miles in twenty four hours?

In any case the passengers had no means of guessing at the route traversed since the departure because all points of reference were lacking. This curious fact also resulted, that carried about in the midst of the storm’s violence, they did not suffer from it. They were displaced and turned round and round without sensing any of this rotation nor their horizontal movement. Their eyes could not pierce the thick fog that had gathered under the basket. Around them everything was obscure. Such was the opacity of the clouds that they could not say if it was day or night. No reflection of light, no noise from the inhabited world, no bellowing of the ocean could reach them through this immense obscurity, as long as they remained at the higher altitudes. Their rapid descent alone alerted them to the dangers that they faced above the waves.

However, relieved of heavy objects such as munitions, arms and provisions, the balloon rose to a height of four thousand five hundred feet. The passengers, after having realized that the sea was under the basket, and finding the dangers from above less formidable than those from below, did not hesitate to throw overboard even the most useful objects as they sought to lose no more of this fluid, this soul of their apparatus, which sustained them above the abyss.

The night passed in the midst of anxieties that would have been mortal for less energetic souls. Then day reappeared and with the day the storm showed a tendency to moderate. From the beginning of this day of the 24th of March it showed some symptoms of abatement. At dawn the clouds, now more vesicular, rose higher in the sky. In several hours the waterspout widened and broke up. The wind, no longer a hurricane, changed to “very brisk,” that is to say that the translational velocity of the atmospheric layers was reduced by half. It was still what sailors call “a breeze for three reefs,” but the improvement in the disturbance of the elements was none the less considerable.

About eleven o’clock the lower atmosphere became noticeably clearer. It threw off this dampness that is seen and even felt after the passage of large meteors. It did not seem that the storm had gone further west. It appeared to be dying of its own accord. Perhaps it was dispersing into electrical layers as sometimes happens to the typhoons of the Indian Ocean after the rupture of a waterspout.

But about this time it was again obvious that the balloon was slowly but continually falling to a lower altitude. It even seemed that it was deflating little by little and that its envelope was elongating and distending, passing from a spherical shape to the ovoid.

About noon the balloon did not hover more than two thousand feet above the sea. It contained fifty thousand cubic feet [2] and thanks to its capacity it had evidently been able to maintain itself a long while in the air regardless of whether it attained a high altitude or whether it was moving in a horizontal direction.

At this time the passengers threw out the last objects which still weighed down the basket, several provisions they had kept, everything, even the small knick-knacks in their pockets. Helping each other, they hoisted themselves onto the ring to which the ropes were attached, all the while looking for solid ground beneath the balloon.

It was evident that the passengers could not keep the balloon at a high altitude and that their gas was failing them.

They would perish!

In fact there was no continent, not even an island, beneath them. There was no single spot on which to land, no solid surface which their anchor could touch.

It was an immense ocean whose waves still hurled about with incomparable violence. It was an ocean without visible limits even though they could see over a radius of forty miles from their altitude. It was a liquid plain, battered without mercy and lashed by the storm. It seemed like an overlap of dishevelled waves on which had been thrown a vast network of white crests. No land in sight, not even a vessel.

It was necessary, at any price, to stop the balloon’s descent and to impede it from being engulfed by the waves, and it was evidently this urgent need which occupied the passengers of the basket. But in spite of their exertions, the balloon kept falling, sometimes even at a good speed, all the while following the direction of the wind, that is to say from the northeast to the southwest.

It was a terrible situation for these unfortunates. They were evidently no longer masters of the balloon. Their efforts had no effect. The envelope of the balloon elongated itself more and more. The fluid escaped and they could do nothing to hold it in. Their descent was visibly accelerating and at one o’clock in the afternoon the basket was suspended not more than six hundred feet above the ocean.

In fact it was impossible to prevent the loss of gas which was freely escaping through a rip in the apparatus.

By throwing away everything in the basket the passengers were able to keep it in the air for several more hours. But the inevitable catastrophe could not be prevented and if land did not show itself before night, passengers, basket and balloon would definitely disappear beneath the waves.

They now executed the only maneuver still left to them. The balloon passengers were evidently energetic men who knew how to look death in the face. Not a single murmur escaped their lips. They had decided to struggle to the last second and to do everything to delay their fall. The basket was only a wicker box, not intended for floating, and there was no possibility of maintaining it on the surface of the sea if it should fall there.

At two o’clock the balloon was scarcely four hundred feet above the waves.

At this moment a virile voice—the voice of a man whose heart was inaccessible to fear—made itself heard. To this voice responded other voices no less energetic.

“Is everything thrown out?”

“No! There are still ten thousand francs in gold!”

A weighty sack fell at once into the sea.

“Does the balloon rise?”

“A little, but it won’t be long before it falls again!”

“Is there anything left to throw out?”

“Nothing!”

“Yes!... the basket!”

“Let us hang on to the ropes and throw the basket into the sea!”

It was in fact the only and last means of making the balloon lighter. The cords which connected the basket to the ring were slashed and the balloon rose to two thousand feet.

The five passengers were hoisted on the ropes above the ring, and holding on to the meshes they looked at the abyss.

The static sensitivity of balloons is well known. Throwing out the lightest objects suffices to induce a vertical displacement. The apparatus, floating in the air, behaves like an accurate mathematical balance. One can therefore understand why it is that when it is relieved of a considerable weight its displacement is significant and immediate. So it was on this occasion.

But after holding in equilibrium for an instant at a higher altitude, the balloon began to fall again. The gas was escaping through a tear that was impossible to repair.

The passengers had done all that they could do. No human means could save them now. They could no longer count on any help except from heaven.

At four o’clock the balloon was not more than five hundred feet above the water’s surface.

A barking was heard. A dog accompanied the passengers and was hanging on to the meshes near his master.

“Top has seen something!” shouted one of the passengers.

Then at once a firm voice was heard:

“Land! Land!”

The balloon, which the wind had been carrying toward the southwest, had covered hundreds of miles since dawn and a rather elevated land in fact appeared in this direction.

But this land was still more than thirty miles windward. More than a full hour was needed to reach it assuming they did not deviate from their path. One hour! Wouldn’t the balloon be emptied of all its fluid before then?

Such was the horrible question. The passengers could distinctly see this solid point that they must reach at all cost. They were ignorant of what it was, whether island or continent, because they hardly knew toward which part of the world the storm had driven them. But they must reach this land whether inhabited or not, whether hospitable or not.

Now, at four o’clock, they could see that the balloon could no longer sustain itself. It grazed the surface of the sea. Several times already the crests of enormous waves licked the bottom of the ropes making it still heavier. Like a bird with a wounded wing the balloon could barely half rise again.

A half hour later land was only a mile away but the balloon, exhausted, flabby, distended, crumpled in large wrinkles, had no gas except in its upper part. The passengers, holding on to the ropes, were too heavy for it and soon, half immersed in the sea, they were battered by furious waves. The casing of the balloon made an air pocket which the wind engulfed and pushed like a vessel with its back to the wind. Perhaps they could reach the coast this way.

They were now only two cables away when four horrible cries were heard simultaneously. The balloon, which seemed like it would never rise again, made an unexpected bound after being struck by a large wave. As if it had suddenly lost another of its weights it rose to a height of fifteen hundred feet and there it met a swirl of wind which, instead of bringing it directly to the coast, followed an almost parallel direction. Finally, two minutes later, it approached obliquely, definitely falling down on the sand of the shore out of reach of the waves.

The balloon ... falling down on the sand ...

The passengers, helping one another, succeeded in disengaging themselves from the meshes of the ropes. The balloon, relieved of their weight, again became airborne, and like a wounded bird that revives for a moment, it disappeared into space.

The basket had contained five passengers plus a dog, but the balloon threw only four on the shore.

The missing passenger had evidently been swept away by the wave that struck the ropes. This allowed the lightened balloon to rise again for a last time and reach land a few moments later.

Hardly had the four castaways—we will call them by this name—set foot on the ground when all, thinking of the missing one, shouted:

“Perhaps he is trying to swim. Let us save him! Let us save him!”

1. Equal to 40 meters per second or 144 kilometers per hour (nearly 36 leagues based on a league of 4 kilometers).

2. Approximately 1400 cubic meters.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Castaways from the Sky

Chapter II

An episode of the Civil War—The engineer Cyrus Smith—Gideon Spilett—The Negro Neb—The sailor Pencroff—Young Herbert—An unexpected proposition—Rendez-vous at ten o’clock in the evening—Departure in the storm.

THOSE whom the storm had thrown on this coast were neither professional aeronauts nor amateurs of aerial expeditions. They were prisoners of war whose audacity had induced them to flee under these extraordinary circumstances. A hundred times they should have perished! A hundred times their torn balloon should have fallen into the abyss! But Heaven reserved a strange destiny for them and on the twenty fourth of March, after having fled Richmond, which was besieged by the troops of General Ulysses Grant, they found themselves seven thousand miles from the capitol of Virginia, the principal stronghold of the rebels during the dreadful Civil War. Their aerial journey had lasted five days.

These are the curious circumstances which resulted in the prisoners’ escape—an escape which ended in the catastrophe just related.

In this same year, in the month of February 1865, during one of those bold actions in which General Grant tried unsuccessfully to capture Richmond, some of his officers fell into enemy hands and were interned in the city. One of the most distinguished of those that were captured was a staff officer by the name of Cyrus Smith.

Cyrus Smith, a native of Massachusetts, was an engineer and a scientist of the first rank. During the war the Union government had entrusted him with the management of the railroads whose strategic role was considerable. A true northerner, he was lean, bony, lanky, and about forty five years of age. His hair was already graying, and as to a beard, he had only a thick moustache. He had one of those handsome “numismatic” heads that looked like they were made to be stamped on medals, with fiery eyes, a serious mouth and the physiognomy of a scientist of the military school. He was one of those engineers who want to begin by handling the hammer and the pick, like those generals who wish to begin as simple soldiers. In addition to an ingenuity of the mind, he also possessed supreme manual ability. His muscles were remarkably well developed. Truly a man of action as well as a man of thought, he worked without effort, having a vitality that defied all hard luck. Very informed, very practical, able to disentangle himself from any difficulty, he had a superb temperament because he always remained master of himself whatever the circumstances. He had in a very large degree the three conditions whose combination determines human energy: activity of mind and body, impetuosity of the desires, and power of the will. And his motto could have been that of Guillaume of Orange of the seventeenth century: “I have no need of hope in order to undertake, nor of success in order to persevere.”

At the same time Cyrus Smith was courage personified. He had been in all the battles of the Civil War. After having begun under Ulysses Grant with the volunteers of Illinois he fought at Paducah, at Belmont, at Pittsburg Landing, at the siege of Corinth, at Port Gibson, at Black River, at Chattanooga, at Wilderness, and on the Potomac, everywhere and valiantly, a soldier worthy of the general who said “I never count my dead!” And a hundred times Cyrus Smith should have been in the number of those not counted by the terrible Grant, but in these combats, where he hardly spared himself, chance favored him as always, up to the moment when he was wounded and captured on the Richmond battlefield.

At the same time as Cyrus Smith and on the same day another important personage fell into the power of the Southerners. It was none other than the honorable Gideon Spilett, “reporter” for the New York Herald, who had been charged to follow the vicissitudes of the war in the midst of the northern armies.

Gideon Spilett

Gideon Spilett was of the race of those astonishing English or American reporters, such as Stanley and others, who recoil at nothing in order to obtain exact information and to transmit it to their journal with the briefest delay. The journals of the Union, such as the New York Herald, are very influential and their reporters are representatives that can be counted on. Gideon Spilett marked the first rank of these representatives.

A man of great merit, energetic, prompt and ready for anything, full of ideas, having traveled the entire world, soldier and artist, hot-headed in advice, resolute in action, counting neither pain nor fatigue nor dangers when gathering news for himself first and then for his journal, a true hero of curiosity, information, the unpublishable, the unknown, the impossible, he was one of those intrepid observers who write under fire, chronically in the line of fire, and for whom all perils are good fortune.

He too had been in all the battles, on the front lines, revolver in one hand, notebook in the other, and grapeshot did not make his hand tremble. He did not burden the telegraph wires incessantly, like those who speak when they have nothing to say, but each of his notes, short, candid and clear, brought light to bear on an important point. Moreover, “humor” did not fail him. It was he who, after the affair of Black River, wishing at any price to keep his place at the wicket of the telegraph office in order to announce to his journal the result of the battle, telegraphed for two hours the first chapters of the bible. It cost the New York Herald two thousand dollars but the New York Herald was the first to be informed.

Gideon Spilett had a tall stature. He was forty years old at most. Light side whiskers, somewhat red, surrounded his face. His eye was calm, quick and rapid in its movements. It was the eye of a man who was accustomed to quickly perceive all the details of a scene. Of solid frame, he was tempered in all climates like a bar of steel in ice water.

For ten years Gideon Spilett had been an accredited reporter of the New York Herald which he enriched with his articles and his drawings because he was as skilled with the pencil as with the pen. When he was captured he was in the act of describing and sketching the battle. The last words written in his notebook were these: “A Southerner is taking aim at me and...” And the shot missed its mark and following his usual luck, Gideon Spilett came out of the affair without a scratch.

Cyrus Smith and Gideon Spilett, who did not know each other except by reputation, were both taken to Richmond. The engineer rapidly recovered from his wound and it was during his convalescence that he made the acquaintance of the reporter. These two men got along and learned to appreciate each other. Soon their common life had only one goal, to escape and rejoin Grant’s army, and to fight again in its ranks for federal unity.

The two Americans decided to profit from any occasion; but although they were left at liberty in the city, Richmond was so severely guarded that an escape could be regarded as impossible.

At this time Cyrus Smith was joined by a servant who was devoted to him in life and in death. This fearless person was a Negro born of slave parents into the engineer’s estate but Cyrus Smith, who was an abolitionist from conviction and from the heart, had long since emancipated him. The slave, on becoming free, did not wish to leave his master. He loved him to the death. He was thirty years old, vigorous, agile, skillful, intelligent, gentle and calm, naive at times, always smiling, helpful and kind. He was called Nebuchadnezzar which was abbreviated to the familiar Neb.

When Neb learned that his master had been made prisoner he left Massachusetts without hesitating, arrived before Richmond, and with shrewdness and ruses, after having risked his life twenty times, he succeeded in penetrating into the besieged city. Cyrus Smith’s pleasure in seeing his servant again and Neb’s joy on finding his master cannot be expressed.

But if Neb was able to get into Richmond it was, on the other hand, difficult to get out because the Federal prisoners were under close surveillance. It would take an extraordinary occasion to enable them to escape with some chance of success, and this occasion not only did not present itself, but it did not seem that it ever would.

Meanwhile Grant continued his energetic operations. The victory at Petersburg had been very dearly fought. His forces, united with those of Butler, could still not obtain a decisive outcome in front of Richmond so that the release of the prisoners was not at hand. The reporter, who found his captivity tedious, could not find a single detail worth noting and could no longer endure it. He had but one idea: to leave Richmond at any price. Several times he had even attempted it but was stopped by insurmountable obstacles.

However the siege continued and if the prisoners were in a hurry to escape to rejoin Grant’s army, some of the besieged were no less in a hurry to flee in order to rejoin the rebel army, among them a certain Jonathan Forster, a rabid Southerner. In fact, if the Federal prisoners could not leave the city neither could the confederates because the Northern army invested it. The governor of Richmond had not been able to communicate with General Lee for some time. It was of upmost importance to make the city’s situation known in order to hasten the march of the relief army. This Jonathan Forster had the idea of floating a balloon in order to cross the besieged lines and thus reach the rebel camp.

The governor authorized the attempt. A balloon was fabricated and placed at the disposal of Jonathan Forster and five of his companions who would follow him into the skies. It was furnished with munitions in case they had to defend themselves on landing, and with provisions in case their aerial voyage was prolonged.

The departure of the balloon was fixed for 18th of March. It would take place during the night and, with a moderate northwest wind the aeronauts could count on arriving at General Lee’s quarters in a few hours.

But this northwest wind was not a simple breeze. From the 18th onwards one could see that it was turning into a storm. Before long the tempest was such that the departure of Forster had to be postponed because it was impossible to risk the balloon and those that it would carry into the unchained elements.

The balloon, inflated in the main square of Richmond, remained there ready to leave at the first break in the wind. They were very impatient when they saw no break in the weather.

The 18th and the 19th passed without any change in the storm. It even proved very difficult to preserve the balloon which gusts of wind threw to the ground.

The night of the 19th to the 20th passed but in the morning the fury of the storm increased. Departure was impossible.

On that day the engineer Cyrus Smith was accosted in one of the streets of Richmond by a man he did not know. He was a sailor called Pencroff, between thirty five and forty years of age, with a vigorous frame, very sunburnt, sharp and blinking eyes, but with a good shape. This Pencroff was a Northerner who had traversed all the seas of the globe and who had experienced all the adventures that could befall a being with two feet and no feathers. Needless to say he had an enterprising nature, ready to venture anything and astonished at nothing. Pencroff came to Richmond at the beginning of the year on business with a fifteen year old boy, Herbert Brown of New Jersey, the son of his captain, an orphan whom he loved like his own child. Not being able to leave the city before the first operations of the siege, he found himself confined there to his great displeasure and he too had but one idea, to escape by all possible means. He knew of Cyrus Smith’s reputation. He knew of the impatience that this determined man endured under restraint. On this day he therefore did not hesitate to approach him saying without thinking:

“Mister Smith, have you had enough of Richmond?”

The engineer stared at the man who spoke to him in this way, who added in a low voice:

“Mister Smith, would you like to escape?”

“Mister Smith, would you like to escape?”

“When?...” the engineer replied briskly. This response escaped him before he could examine the person speaking to him.

But after giving the sailor a penetrating look he did not doubt that he had an honest man before him.

“Who are you?” he asked briefly.

Pencroff made himself known.

“Good,” replied Cyrus Smith, “and by what means do you propose to escape?”

“By that lazy balloon which lies there doing nothing and which seems to be waiting just for us...”

The sailor had no need to finish. The engineer understood from the first word. He seized Pencroff by the arms and led him to his dwelling.

There the sailor developed his project, really a simple one. They risked nothing in its execution but their lives, The storm was at its height, it was true, but an engineer as skilful as Cyrus Smith would know how to navigate a balloon. If he, Pencroff, knew how to maneuver it he would not have hesitated to leave with Herbert of course. He had seen better storms than this, and he could reckon with a tempest.

Cyrus Smith listened to the sailor without saying a word but his eyes lit up. This was the occasion. He was not a man to let it pass. The project was very dangerous, but it was feasible. At night they could board the balloon in spite of the surveillance, slip into the basket and cut the lines that held it. Certainly they risked being killed but on the other hand they could succeed, and without this storm... but without this storm the balloon would already have left and this long sought opportunity would not have presented itself at this time.

“I am not alone!...” Cyrus Smith finally said.

“How many people do you wish to take?” asked the sailor.

“Two: my friend Spilett and my servant Neb.”

“That makes three,” replied Pencroff, “and with Herbert and I, five. Now the balloon can carry six...”

“That is sufficient. We will leave!” said Cyrus Smith.

This “we” included the reporter who was not a man to back out. When told about the project, he approved it without reservations. What astonished him was that they had not already thought of so simple an idea. As to Neb, he followed his master wherever his master wished to go.

“This evening then,” said Pencroff, “the five of us will stroll along there pretending curiosity.”

“This evening at ten o’clock,” replied Cyrus Smith, “and pray to Heaven that this storm will not abate before our departure.”

Pencroff took leave of the engineer and returned to his lodging where young Herbert Brown had remained. This courageous lad knew of the sailor’s plan and waited with anxiety for the results of the steps taken with the engineer. As we know, it was that five determined men would hurl themselves into the full storm!

No! The storm did not abate. Neither Jonathan Forster nor his companions could dream of confronting it in the frail basket. The day was terrible. The engineer feared but one thing: it was that the balloon, held to the ground and leveled by the wind, would be torn into a thousand pieces. For several hours he prowled around the nearly deserted square surveying the apparatus. Pencroff on his side did likewise, his hands in his pockets, about to yawn, like a man who doesn’t know how to kill time, but also fearing that the balloon would be torn or even that it would break its lines and escape into the sky.

Evening came. The night was very gloomy. A thick mist came on with clouds at ground level. Rain fell mixed with snow. It was cold. A sort of fog settled over Richmond. It seemed that the violent tempest forced a truce between the besiegers and the besieged and that the cannon wished to be silent before the formidable detonations of the storm. The streets of the city were deserted. In this horrible weather it did not even seem necessary to guard the square in which the balloon was floundering. Evidently everything favored the departure of the prisoners; but this voyage in an unleashed storm!...

“Nasty weather,” Pencroff said to himself, adjusting his hat with his fist while the wind was trying to dislodge it from his head. “Oh well! We will succeed all the same!”

At half past nine Cyrus Smith and his companions glided in from different corners of the square which the gas lanterns, extinguished by the wind, left in deep darkness. They could not even see the enormous balloon which was almost completely thrown to the ground. Independent of the sacks of ballast which held the ropes, the basket was restrained by a strong cable which passed through a ring in the pavement and doubled back on board.

The five prisoners met near the basket. They had not been seen. In the obscurity they could not even see each other.

The five prisoners met near the basket.

Without saying a word Cyrus Smith, Gideon Spilett, Neb and Herbert took their place in the basket, while Pencroff on an order from the engineer, successively detached the bags of ballast. This took but a few moments and the sailor rejoined his companions.

The balloon was then held only by the doubled cable and Cyrus Smith had only to give the order to depart.

At that moment a dog dashed toward the basket. It was Top, the engineer’s dog, who having broken his chain, had followed his master. The engineer, fearing the excess weight, wanted to send the animal away.

“Bah! What’s one more,” said Pencroff, relieving the basket of two sacks of sand.

Then he cast off the doubled cable and the balloon left in an oblique direction and disappeared after the basket hurled itself against two chimneys in the fury of its departure.

The storm then unleashed itself with a frightful violence. During the night the engineer could not think of descending and when day returned all sight of ground was obscured by the clouds. It was only after five days that a clearing let them see the immense ocean beneath the balloon, which the wind had driven on at a frightful speed.

We know that five men left on the 20th of March and that four of them were thrown, on the 24th of March, on a deserted coast more than six thousand miles from their country [1].

It was their natural chief, the engineer Cyrus Smith, who was missing. The first thought of the four balloon survivors was to rescue him.

1. On the 5th of April, Richmond fell into Grant's hands and the revolt of the rebels was suppressed. Lee retired to the west and the cause of American unity triumphed.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Castaways from the Sky

Chapter III

Five o’clock in the evening—The missing person—Neb’s despair—Search to the north—The islet—A wretched night of anguish—The morning fog—Neb swims—View of the land—Fording the channel.

THE engineer was carried off by a wave through the mesh of rope which had given way. His dog had also disappeared. The faithful animal had voluntarily thrown himself in to help his master.

“Forward!” shouted the reporter.

And all four, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, Pencroff and Neb, forgetting their exhaustion and fatigue, began their search.

Poor Neb cried with rage and despair at the same time at the thought of having lost all that he loved in the world.

Two minutes had not passed from the moment when Cyrus Smith had disappeared to the instant when his companions touched land. They could therefore hope to arrive in time to save him.

“Let us search! Let us search!” shouted Neb.

“Yes, Neb,” replied Gideon Spilett, “and we will find him!”

“Living?”

“Living!”

“Does he know how to swim?” asked Pencroff.

“Yes,” replied Neb, “and besides, Top is there...”

The sailor, listening to the sea roar, shook his head.

It was on the coast to the north, about a half mile from the spot where the castaways had landed, that the engineer had disappeared. If he could reach the nearest point on the shoreline he would be at most a half mile from them.

It was then nearly six o’clock. A fog came on making the night very obscure. The castaways proceeded northward on the eastern coastline of this land upon which chance had thrown them, an unknown land whose geographical location they could not even guess at. They trampled on sandy soil, mixed with stones, which seemed to be deprived of every species of vegetation. This soil, very uneven and rugged, seemed in certain spots to be riddled with small potholes which made their progress very painful. From these holes, heavy birds of sluggish flight escaped at each instant, flying off in all directions into the obscurity. Other more agile ones rose and passed overhead in flocks like clouds. The sailor thought he recognized sea gulls and sea mews whose sharp cries contended with the roars from the sea.

From time to time the castaways stopped to shout and listen for some sound not made by the ocean. It was possible that if they were near the place where the engineer had landed they might hear Top’s barking in case Cyrus Smith was unable to give some sign of his existence. But no cry was heard above the roar of the waves and the clash of the surf. Then the small troop resumed their forward march and searched every crevice of the shoreline.

After a walk of twenty minutes the four castaways were suddenly stopped by the foaming waves. Solid ground vanished. They found themselves at the extremity of a sharp point against which the sea broke with fury.

“It is a promontory,” said the sailor. “We must retrace our steps keeping to our right and in this way we will get to the mainland.”

“But what if he is there!” replied Neb, pointing to the ocean, whose enormous waves whitened the darkness.

“Then let us call him!”

And they all shouted together vigorously but there was no response. They waited for a lull. They shouted again. Again nothing.

And they all shouted together...

The castaways then went back on the opposite side of the promontory on soil just as sandy and rocky. However Pencroff noted that this shoreline was more abrupt, and the ground more elevated and he assumed that it was joined by an elongated ramp to a high coast that he could barely make out. The birds were less numerous on this part of the shore. The sea also surged less here and was less noisy. It was also remarkable that there was less agitation in the waves. They could barely hear the noise of the surf. Doubtless this side of the promontory formed a semi-circular cove with a sharp point that protected it from the waves of the open sea.

But in going in this direction they were moving toward the south away from that part of the coast where Cyrus Smith might have set foot. For a mile and a half the shoreline did not present any turn that would permit them to head north again. Though they had turned the point, the promontory should be connected to the mainland. In spite of their exhaustion the castaways continued to move forward courageously hoping at each moment to find a sharp turn that would put them back in the original direction.

Imagine their disappointment when, after about two miles, they found themselves once again stopped by the sea on a somewhat elevated group of slippery rocks.

“We are on an islet,” said Pencroff, “and we have surveyed it from one extremity to the other.”

The sailor’s observation was justified. The castaways had been thrown not on a continent, not even on an island, but on an islet that did not measure more than two miles in length and whose width was evidently considerably less.

But was this barren islet, scattered with rocks, without vegetation, this desolate refuge for several sea birds, was it part of an important archipelago? They could not say. When the balloon passengers were in the basket they could see land only indistinctly through the fog. They were not able to judge its size. However, Pencroff, whose sailor’s eyes were accustomed to pierce the haze, believed that he could distinguish confused masses in the west which would signify an elevated coast.

But then, because of the obscurity, they could not determine if the islet had a simple or a complex appearance. They could not even leave it because the sea surrounded it. They must put off until the next day the search for the engineer who alas had not signaled his presence by any cry.

“The silence of Cyrus proves nothing,” said the reporter. “He may have fainted or be injured and momentarily in no condition to respond, but let us not despair.”

The reporter then got the idea of lighting a fire at the point of the islet to serve as a signal to the engineer. They looked in vain for dry wood or brushwood. Sand and stones, there was nothing else.

One can understand the grief of Neb and his companions who were keenly attached to this intrepid Cyrus Smith. It was quite evident that they were powerless to help him. They must await the day. Either the engineer had been able to save himself and had already found refuge at some point on the coast, or he was lost forever!

These were long and painful hours to pass. The cold was sharp. The castaways suffered cruelly but they scarcely felt it. It did not occur to them to rest for a moment. Forgetting themselves for their chief, hoping, always wanting to hope, they went back and forth on the barren islet, always coming back to its north point, closest to the place of the catastrophe. They listened, they shouted, they tried to detect some supreme call. Their voices should have carried far because a certain calm then prevailed in the atmosphere and the noise of the sea began to fall with the billows.

One of Neb’s cries even seemed, for a moment, to produce an echo. Herbert brought this to Pencroff’s attention, adding:

“This proves that there is a shoreline not too far to the west.”

The sailor made an affirmative sign. Besides, his eyes could not deceive him. If he had distinguished land however faintly, it was because land was there.

But this remote echo was the only response provoked by Neb’s cries and all else on the east part of the islet remained silent.

However, little by little the sky cleared. Toward midnight some stars were shining and if the engineer had been there near his companions he would have remarked that these stars were no longer those of the northern hemisphere. In fact the pole star did not appear above this new horizon and the polar constellations were no longer those usually observed in North America. It was the Southern Cross which was shining at the south pole of the sky.

The night passed. About five o’clock in the morning, the 25th of March, the higher levels of the atmosphere changed slightly. The horizon was still dark but with the first light of day an opaque fog rose from the sea so that visibility did not extend more than about twenty feet. The fog spread out in large volutes that moved clumsily.

It was a disappointment. The castaways could not distinguish anything around them. While Neb and the reporter looked toward the ocean, the sailor and Herbert looked for a coastline in the west but not a bit of land was visible.

“No matter,” said Pencroff, “if I do not see the coastline, I can feel it... It is there... there... just as surely as we are no longer in Richmond.”

But the haze was not long in lifting. It was nothing but a fine weather haze. A good sun warmed the upper layers and this heat sifted to the surface of the islet.

In fact about half past six, three quarters of an hour after sunrise, the fog became more transparent. It persisted above but dissipated below. Soon the entire islet appeared as if it had descended from a cloud. The sea showed itself in a circular form, infinite in the east but bounded by an elevated and abrupt coast in the west.

Yes! Land was there. Their safety was at least provisionally assured. Between the islet and the coast, separated by an open channel a half mile in width, ran a noisy rapid current.

However, one of the castaways, consulting only his heart, immediately threw himself into the current, without asking the opinions of his companions and without even saying a single word. It was Neb. He was in a hurry to be on this coast and to rush northward. No one could hold him back. Pencroff called to him but in vain. The reporter was inclined to follow Neb.

Pencroff then went to him:

“Do you want to cross this channel?” he asked.

“Yes,” replied Gideon Spilett.

“Well then listen, believe me,” said the sailor, “Neb is well able to bring help to his master. If we throw ourselves into this channel we will risk being carried to the open sea by an extremely violent current. Now, if I am not mistaken, it is an ebbing current. See the sea is going down on the beach. Let us have patience and at low tide it is possible that we will find a fordable passage...”

“You are right,” replied the reporter. “Let us not separate any more than we have to...”

During this time Neb was vigorously struggling against the current. He crossed it in an oblique direction. They saw his black shoulders emerge at each stroke. He was swept on at an extreme speed but he also got closer to the shore. It took him a half hour to cross the half mile that separated the islet from the mainland. He reached the opposite shore several thousand feet downstream from the point on the islet where he started.

Neb set foot at the base of a high granite wall and shook himself vigorously, then running he soon disappeared behind a point of rocks that projected into the sea at about the same distance as the northern extremity of the islet.

Neb’s companions anxiously followed his daring endeavor. When he was out of sight they turned their attention to this land on which they would be taking refuge, while eating some shellfish which were scattered on the sand. It was a meager repast but it was something.

The opposite coast formed a vast bay, terminated in the south by a very sharp point which was devoid of all vegetation and of a very savage aspect. This point was joined to the shore by a rather capricious pattern and was braced up against high granite rocks. Toward the north, on the other hand, a wide bay formed a more rounded coast, running from southwest to northeast and ending with a sharp cape. Between these two extreme points of the bay’s arc the distance was perhaps eight miles. A half mile from shore the islet occupied a narrow strip of the sea resembling an enormous cetacean whose body it represented on a large scale. Its largest width was not more than a quarter of a mile.

Opposite the island, the shore in the foreground was composed of sand scattered with blackish rocks which, at the moment, were reappearing little by little with the ebbing tide. Behind that was a sort of smooth granite facade crowned by a capricious ridge at a height of three hundred feet. It ran thus for a length of three miles and ended abruptly at the right with a slanted corner that one would think was made by the hand of man. On the left, on the other hand, beyond the promontory, this sort of irregular cliff broke into prismatic fragments made of a conglomerate of rocks, sloping downward by an elongated ramp which gradually blended with the rocks at the southern point.

There was not one tree on the upper plateau of the coast. It was a flat plateau like the one which overlooks Capetown at the Cape of Good Hope but with much reduced proportions. At least so it appeared as seen from the islet. Nevertheless, vegetation was not lacking to the right, behind the slanted corner. They could easily distinguish a confused mass of large trees to the limit of their view. This verdure gladdened eyes saddened by the lines of the granite face.

Lastly, to the rear beyond the plateau in a northwesterly direction and at a distance of at least seven miles, glittered a white peak reflecting the sun’s rays. It was a hat of snow capping some distant mountain.

They could not say if the land formed an island or if it was part of a continent. But looking at the convulsed rocks piled up on the left, a geologist would have not hesitated to give them a volcanic origin, because they were incontestably the result of plutonic activity.

Gideon Spilett, Pencroff and Herbert carefully observed this land on which they would perhaps spend many long years, even die on it if they were not on the ship lanes.

“Well,” asked Herbert, “what do you say, Pencroff?”

“Well,” replied the sailor, “there is good here and bad as in everything. We will see. But now the ebb is being felt. In three hours we will try to cross and once there we will try to organize ourselves to search for Mister Smith.

Pencroff was not wrong in his prediction. Three hours later, at low tide, most of the sand that formed the bed of the canal was uncovered. Between the shore and the islet there remained only a narrow channel which would doubtless be easy to cross.

In fact about ten o’clock Gideon Spilett and his two companions took off their clothing, placed them in bundles over their heads and ventured into the channel whose depth was not more than five feet. Herbert, for whom the water was too high, swam like a fish and managed wonderfully. All arrived without difficulty on the other side. There the sun rapidly dried them, they put on their clothes which they had preserved from contact with the water, and they discussed the next step.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Castaways from the Sky

Chapter IV

Lithodomes—The river’s mouth—The “Chimneys”—Continuation of the search—Evergreen forest—Providing fuel—Waiting for the ebb—On the heights—The raft of wood—Return to the shore.

ALL at once the reporter told the sailor to wait for him in this very place where he would rejoin him, and without losing an instant he ascended the coast in the direction followed by the negro Neb several hours earlier. Then he rapidly disappeared behind a corner of the coast, so anxious was he for news about the engineer.

Herbert wanted to accompany him.

“Stay here, my boy,” the sailor said to him. “We have to prepare an encampment and to see if it is possible to find something more substantial for the appetite than shellfish. Our friends will need to recuperate on their return. Each to his task.”

“I am ready, Pencroff,” replied Herbert.

“Good!” replied the sailor. “That will do. Let us proceed methodically. We are tired, we are cold, we are hungry. Hence we must find shelter, fire and nourishment. The forest has wood, the nests have eggs; it remains to find a house.”

“Very well,” replied Herbert, “I will look for a cave among these rocks and I will surely discover some hole in which we can hide.”

“That’s that,” replied Pencroff. “Let’s go, my boy.”

And they both walked to the foot of the enormous wall on this beach that the receding tide had largely uncovered. But instead of going toward the north they went to the south. Several hundred feet from where they had landed, Pencroff noted that the coastline presented a narrow opening which, in his opinion, could be the mouth of a river or a brook. Now, on the one hand, it was important to establish themselves in the neighborhood of a potable watercourse, and on the other hand, it was not impossible that the current had thrown Cyrus Smith on this shore.

The high wall, as has been said, rose to a height of three hundred feet but the block was solid throughout, and even at its base, barely washed by the sea, it did not present the smallest fissure which could serve as a temporary dwelling. It was a perpendicular wall, made of a very hard granite which the waves had never eroded. Near the summit all kinds of sea birds fluttered about, in particular various web-footed species with long compressed pointed beaks—squalling, and hardly afraid of the presence of man who, for the first time no doubt, was thus disturbing their solitude. Among these web-footers Pencroff recognized several skua, a sort of sea gull which is sometimes called stercorarius and also the voracious little sea mews which nested in the crevices of the granite. A gunshot fired into this swarm of birds would have killed a great number; but to fire a gunshot, a gun was needed and neither Pencroff nor Herbert had one. Besides these sea mews and these skua are scarcely edible and even their eggs have a detestable taste.

Meanwhile Herbert, who had gone a little more to the left, soon noted several seaweed covered rocks which the high tide would cover again several hours later. On these rocks, amid slippery seaweed, bivalve shellfish abounded which hungry people could not disdain. Herbert called Pencroff, who quickly ran up.

“Ah! These are mussels!” shouted the sailor. “Here is something to replace the eggs that we don’t have!”

“These are not mussels!” replied young Herbert, who carefully examined the mollusks attached to the rocks, “they are lithodomes.”

“And are they edible?” asked Pencroff.

“And are they edible?” asked Pencroff.

“Perfectly so.”

“Then let us eat lithodomes.”

The sailor could rely on Herbert. The young boy was very strong in natural history and always had a veritable passion for this science. His father had encouraged him in this line by letting him attend the courses of the best Boston professors who were fond of this intelligent and industrious lad. Moreover, his instincts as a naturalist would afterwards be utilized more than once and on this outset they did not deceive him.

These lithodomes were oblong shells, tightly attached in clusters to the rocks. They belonged to that species of molluscous perforators which bore holes in the hardest stones. Their shell is rounded at both ends, a feature not to be found in the ordinary mussel.

Pencroff and Herbert made a good meal of these lithodomes which were then half opened to the sun. They ate them like oysters, and found them to have a strong peppery taste which consoled them for not having either pepper nor any other sort of condiment.

Their hunger was thus appeased for the moment, but not their thirst, which increased after their consumption of these naturally spiced mollusks. They would have to find fresh water and it was not likely that it would be lacking in a region so randomly capricious. Pencroff and Herbert filled their pockets and handkerchiefs with an ample supply of lithodomes. They then went back to the foot of the high land.

Two hundred feet further they arrived at this indentation in the coastline where, if Pencroff guessed correctly, a small river should be flowing. At this spot the wall appeared to have been separated by some violent subterranean action. At its base a cove was hollowed out, the far end forming a very sharp angle. The watercourse at that point measured one hundred feet in breadth, and its two banks on each side were barely twenty feet wide. The watercourse ran almost directly between the two walls of granite which were not as high upstream; then it turned abruptly and disappeared under some brushwood at a distance of half a mile.

“Here is water! There is wood!” said Pencroff. “Well now, Herbert, all we need is the house!”

The water of the river was clear. The sailor knew that at this moment of low tide the ocean had not reached here, and the water would be sweet. This important point established, Herbert looked for some cavity which would serve as a retreat but it was useless. Everywhere the wall was smooth, flat and perpendicular.

However, at the very mouth of the river, above the line of high tide, there had formed, not a grotto, but a pile of enormous fallen rocks, such as are often met with in granite countries and which are called “Chimneys.”

There had formed... a pile of enormous fallen rocks.

Pencroff and Herbert went rather far in among the rocks, in sandy passages where light was not wanting because it entered by openings among the granite rocks, some of which were supported only by a miracle of equilibrium. But with the light the wind also entered—really a corridor wind—and with the wind the sharp cold from the outside. However, the sailor thought that by obstructing certain portions of these passages, by closing some openings with a mixture of stones and sand, they could make the “Chimneys” habitable. The geometrical design of the “Chimneys” resembled the typographical sign & which signifies et cetera abbreviated. Now, by isolating the upper loop of the sign, through which the wind blew from the south and from the west, they would doubtless succeed in putting the lower part to use.

“Here’s our work,” said Pencroff, “and if we ever see Mr. Smith again he will know what to make of this labyrinth.”

“We will see him again, Pencroff,” cried Herbert, “and when he returns he must find a halfway decent dwelling here. It will be so if we can build a fireplace in the left passage and keep an opening for the smoke.”

“We can do it, my boy,” replied the sailor, “and these chimneys”—that was the name that Pencroff kept for this temporary home—“will serve us. But first let us get a stock of fuel. I imagine that the wood will not be useless in stopping up these holes through which the very devil himself is blowing his trumpet.”

Herbert and Pencroff left the Chimneys and turning a corner, they began to ascend the left bank of the river. The current was rather rapid and carried some dead wood. The rising tide—and it could already be felt at this time—must drive it back with force to a rather considerable distance. It occurred to the sailor that they could use this ebb and flow to transport heavy objects.

After walking for a quarter of an hour the sailor and the young boy reached the sharp bend which the river made in turning to the left. From this point its course passed through a forest of magnificent trees. These trees had kept their verdure in spite of the advanced season because they belonged to the family of conifers which grow in all regions of the globe, from the frigid climates to the tro../pics. The young naturalist recognized especially the “deodars,” a species very numerous in the Himalayan zone, which emit an agreeable odor. Among these fine trees grew clusters of fir trees whose opaque parasol boughs spread wide around. In the midst of the tall grass, Pencroff felt his feet crushing dry branches which crackled like fireworks.

“Good, my boy,” he said to Herbert, “if the name of these trees escapes me, I know at least to classify them in the category of ‘firewood’ and, for the moment it is the only category that we need!”

“Let us get some,” replied Herbert, who got to work at once.

The collection was easy. It was not even necessary to break the branches off the trees because enormous quantities of dead wood were lying at their feet. But if the fuel was not wanting, the means of transportation left something to be desired. This wood, being very dry, would burn rapidly. It would therefore be necessary to carry a considerable quantity to the Chimneys and the load of two men would not suffice. Herbert noted this.

“Well my boy,” replied the sailor, “there must be some way of moving this wood. There is always a way to do everything! If we had a cart or a boat it would be quite easy.”

“But we have the river!” said Herbert.

“Right” replied Pencroff. “The river will be for us a road which moves itself and rafts were not invented for nothing.”

“Only” observed Herbert, “at the moment our road is going the wrong way since the tide is rising.”

“We will wait till it ebbs,” replied the sailor, “and then it will be responsible for transporting our fuel to the Chimneys. Anyhow, let us prepare our raft.”

The sailor, followed by Herbert, went towards the bend that the edge of the forest made with the river. In proportion to his strength, each carried a load of wood tied in faggots. On the river’s bank a large quantity of dead branches was also found among grass where the foot of man had probably never trod. Pencroff began at once to put his raft together.

In a sort of eddy produced at one point of the bank, which broke the current, the sailor and the young boy placed some rather large pieces of wood which they had attached together with dried vines. It thus formed a sort of raft on which they successively piled up all the collection of wood, a load for at least twenty men. In an hour the work was finished and the raft, moored to the bank, waited for the change in tide.

They had several hours to kill and by common agreement Pencroff and Herbert resolved to climb to the upper plateau in order to examine the country for a more extended radius.

Two hundred feet beyond the bend formed by the river the wall, terminated by a pile of rocks, sloped away gently to the border of the forest. It was like a natural staircase. Herbert and the sailor began their climb. Thanks to the strength of their knees they reached the crest in a few moments and they positioned themselves at the corner above the mouth of the river.

On arriving their first glance was toward this ocean that they had crossed under such terrible conditions! They observed with emotion all of the coastline to the north where the catastrophe had occurred. It was there that Cyrus Smith had disappeared. They searched to see if some wreckage of their balloon, which a man could hang onto, was still floating. Nothing! The sea was a vast desert of water. As to the coast it too was deserted. Neither the reporter nor Neb could be seen there but it was possible that at this moment they were too far away.

“Something tells me,” cried Herbert, “that a man as energetic as Mr. Cyrus would not allow himself to drown like a new born babe. He must have reached some point on the shore. Isn’t it so, Pencroff?”

The sailor sadly shook his head. He hardly expected to see Cyrus Smith again, but he wanted to give Herbert something to hope for.

“Without doubt, without doubt,” he said, “our engineer is a man able to get out of a situation where all others would succumb!...”

However he observed the coast very carefully. Beneath them was the sandy shore bounded to the right of the river’s mouth by a line of breakers. These rocks, still emerged, resembled groups of amphibians lying in the surf. Beyond the strip of reefs the sea sparkled under the rays of the sun. In the south, a sharp point hid the horizon and one could not say if the land was extended in this direction, or if it oriented itself from southeast to southwest which would have made this coast a sort of elongated peninsula. Up to the extreme north of the bay the outline of the shore followed a more rounded contour. There the shore was low, flat, without cliffs, and with large sandy beaches which the ebbing tide had uncovered.

Pencroff and Herbert then turned to the west. First they saw a mountain topped by snow which rose at the distance of six or seven miles. Vast woods extended from the foothills of this mountain to within two miles of the coast enhanced by large green patches due to the presence of evergreens. Then, from the edge of this forest to the coast itself groups of trees were scattered randomly over a broad plateau. On the left they saw the waters of a small river sparkle trough several glades. It seemed that the river’s rather sinuous course led it back toward its source near the spurs of the mountain. At the spot where the sailor had left his raft of wood the watercourse began to flow between the two high granite walls. If, on the left bank, the wall remained sharp and abrupt, on the right bank, on the contrary, it sank little by little, the blocks changing to isolated rocks, the rocks to stones, the stones to pebbles up to the extremity of the point.

“Are we on an island?” murmured the sailor.

“In any case it seems to be rather vast!” replied the young lad.

“An island, however vast, will never be anything but an island!” said Pencroff.

But this important question could not yet be resolved. The answer would have to wait for another time. As to the land itself, island or continent, it seemed to be fertile, with a pleasant appearance and with a varied output.

“That is fortunate,” Pencroff noted, “and in our misfortune we should give thanks to Providence.”

“God be praised!” responded Herbert, whose pious heart was full of gratitude to the Author of all things.

For a long while Pencroff and Herbert examined this country on which destiny had thrown them but it was difficult to guess from this quick inspection what the future had in store for them.

Then they returned following the southern crest of the granite plateau, bordered by capricious rocks with bizarre shapes. Several hundred birds lived there nested in holes of the stone. Herbert, hopping over the rocks, made a large flock of these winged creatures fly away.

“Ah,” he cried, “These are neither sea gulls nor sea mews!”

“Then what are these birds?” asked Pencroff. “Upon my word, one would say pigeons.”

“Then what are these birds?...”

“Quite so, but these are wild pigeons or rock pigeons,” replied Herbert. “I recognize them by the double black band on their wing, by their white rump, and their ashen blue plumage. Now, if the rock pigeon is good to eat their eggs must be excellent if there are still some in their nests!...”

“We will not give them time to hatch if it isn’t in the shape of an omelette!” replied Pencroff gleefully.

“But in what will you make your omelette?” asked Herbert, “In your hat?”

“Well,” replied the sailor, “I am not enough of a wizard for that. We are forced to use eggs in the shell, my boy, and I will be in charge of disposing of the hardest of them.”

Pencroff and the young lad carefully examined the crevices in the granite and they did in fact find eggs in some of the cavities. Several dozens were collected, then placed in the sailor’s handkerchief and since it was almost high tide they began to descend to the watercourse.

When they arrived at the bend in the river it was one o’clock in the afternoon. The current had already reversed itself. It was necessary therefore to profit from the ebb to bring the raft of wood to the river’s mouth. Pencroff had no intention of letting the raft float in the current at random nor did he intend to board it in order to steer it. But a sailor is never at a loss when it is a question of cables or ropes, and Pencroff quickly braided a long rope several fathoms long by means of dried vines. This vegetable cable was attached to the back of the raft. The sailor wiggled his hand while Herbert pushed the raft back with a long pole, keeping it in the current.

The procedure succeeded as hoped. The large load of wood, which the sailor held on to while walking on the bank, followed the current. The bank was even and there was no reason to fear that the raft would run aground. Before two o’clock they arrived at the mouth of the river several paces from the Chimneys.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har'El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Castaways from the Sky

Chapter V

Arrangement of the Chimneys—The important question of fire—The box of matches—Search on the shore—Return of the reporter and Neb—A single match!—A crackling fireplace—The first supper—The first night on land.

AFTER the raft of wood was unloaded Pencroff’s first concern was to make the Chimneys habitable by obstructing those passages through which the wind blew. Some sand, stones, intertwined branches and mud hermetically sealed the corridors of the “&c” which were open to the winds from the south, thus isolating the upper loop. One passageway only, narrow and winding, opening on one side, was kept in order to conduct the smoke outside and to induce a draft from the fireplace. The Chimneys were thus divided into three or four rooms, if one could give this name to such gloomy dens with which a wild beast would hardly be content. But it was dry and one could stand up, at least in the main room which occupied the center. A fine sand covered the ground and everything taken into account, they would have to manage until they could find something better.

While working Herbert and Pencroff chatted.

“Perhaps,” said Herbert, “our companions have found a better accommodation than ours?”

“That is possible,” replied the sailor, “but doubtful, so don’t hold your breath! It is better to have one string too many in your bow than no string at all!”

“Ah!” repeated Herbert, “if they could only bring back Mr. Smith when they return, how we would thank Heaven!”

“Yes,” murmured Pencroff. “That was truly a man!”

“Was...” said Herbert. “Do you despair of ever seeing him again?”

“God forbid!” replied the sailor.

The arrangements were quickly completed and Pencroff was quite satisfied with them.

“Now,” he said, “our friends can return. They will find a suitable shelter.”

It remained to build a fireplace and to prepare a meal, really a simple and easy task. Some large flat stones were placed on the ground in the first corridor on the left at the entrance of the narrow passageway which had been reserved for this purpose. If the smoke did not draw out too much heat this would evidently be sufficient to maintain a proper temperature inside. A load of wood was stored in one of the rooms and the sailor placed several logs and small pieces of wood on the rocks of the fireplace. The sailor was engaged in this work when Herbert asked him if he had any matches.

“Certainly,” replied Pencroff, “and I will add, fortunately, because without matches or tinder we would have quite a problem!”

“We could always make fire the way the savages do,” replied Herbert, “by rubbing two pieces of dry wood against each other.”

“Well, my boy, try it and then see if you can find a better way to break your arms.”

“Nevertheless it is a very simple procedure and is often used on the islands of the Pacific.”

“I do not say no,” replied Pencroff, “but I believe that the savages know just how to do it or that they use a particular wood because more than once I have tried to make a fire in this way and I have never succeeded at it. I admit that I much prefer matches. By the way, where are my matches?”

Pencroff searched in his vest for the match box that was always with him because he was a confirmed smoker. He did not find it. He rummaged through his pants pockets and to his amazement he could not find the box in question.

“This is stupid! It’s more than stupid!” he said looking at Herbert. “This box must have fallen out of my pocket and I have lost it! But you, Herbert, do you have a tinder box or anything that we can use to make a fire?”

“No, Pencroff.”

The sailor went out scratching his forehead followed by the young boy.

Both searched with the greatest care on the beach, among the rocks, near the bank of the river, but to no avail. The box was made of copper and should not have escaped their attention.

“Pencroff,” asked Herbert, “didn’t you throw the box out of the basket?”

“I kept my mind on it,” replied the sailor, “but when one has been tossed about like we were, so small an object can easily disappear. Even my pipe is gone. Where can the damn box be?”

“Well, the tide is going down,” said Herbert, “let us go round to the spot where we landed.”

There was little chance that they would recover this box that the waves had tossed among the rocks at high tide but it was worth a try under the circumstances. Herbert and Pencroff ran to the spot where they had landed earlier about two hundred feet from the Chimneys.

There, among the pebbles, in the cavities of the rocks, they searched carefully. The result: nothing. If the box had fallen in this vicinity it must have been swept away by the waves. As the sea went down the sailor searched every crevice in the rocks without finding anything. It was a serious loss under the circumstances and for the moment irreparable.

Pencroff found it hard to hide his disappointment. His brow wrinkled up. He didn’t say a word. Herbert wanted to console him by observing that, very likely, the matches would have been wet from the sea water and would have been useless.

“But no, my boy,” replied the sailor. “They were in a tightly closed copper box! And now what are we to do?”

“We will certainly find some means of making fire,” said Herbert. “Mr. Smith or Mr. Spilett would not be at a loss like we are.”

“Yes,” replied Pencroff, “but meanwhile we are without fire and our companions will find a sorry meal on their return.”

“But,” said Herbert briskly, “isn’t it possible that they have tinder or matches?”

“I doubt it,” replied the sailor shaking his head. “First of all Neb and Mr. Smith do not smoke, and I really believe that Mr. Spilett would rather save his notebook than his box of matches.”

Herbert did not reply. The loss of the box was obviously a regrettable thing. However, the lad counted on making a fire by one means or another. Pencroff, who was more experienced, did not think so, though he was not a man to be bothered by a small or a large inconvenience. In any event, there was only one course to take: wait for the return of Neb and of the reporter. But it was necessary to forget about the meal of hard eggs that they had wanted to prepare for them and a diet of raw meat either for themselves or for the others did not appear to be an agreeable prospect.

Before returning to the Chimneys the sailor and Herbert collected a new batch of lithodomes in the event that there definitely would be no fire. They went back silently on the path to their dwelling.

Pencroff, his eyes fixed on the ground, was still looking for the lost box. He even ascended again the left bank of the river from the mouth to the bend where the raft of wood had been moored. He returned to the upper plateau. He went over it in every direction, he searched among the tall grass along the border of the forest—all in vain.

It was five o’clock in the evening when Herbert and he returned to the Chimneys. Needless to say they rummaged through the darkest corners of the passageways but they definitely had to give up. About six o’clock, at the time when the sun was disappearing behind the highlands of the west, Herbert, who was pacing back and forth on the shore, signaled the return of Neb and of Gideon Spilett.

They were returning alone!... His heart skipped a beat. The sailor had not been deceived by his misgivings. The engineer Cyrus Smith had not been found!

On arriving the reporter sat down on a rock without saying a word. Exhausted and dying of hunger he did not have the strength to say a word.

The reporter sat down on a rock without saying a word.

As to Neb his red eyes showed that he had cried and the new tears that he could not hold back showed only too clearly that he had lost all hope!

The reporter told them about the search that they had undertaken to find Cyrus Smith. Neb and he had followed the coastline for a distance of more than eight miles and consequently well beyond the point where the next to the last fall of the balloon occurred, the fall that was followed by the disappearance of the engineer and the dog Top. The shore was deserted. Not a trace, not a single footprint. Not a stone recently overturned, not a sign on the sand, no mark of the human foot on all of this part of the coast. It was evident that no inhabitant ever frequented this portion of the shore. The ocean was just as deserted as the beach and it was there, several hundred feet from shore, that the engineer had met his fate.

Then Neb got up and voiced the sentiments of hope that were bottled up within him:

“No!” he shouted. “No! He is not dead! No! That cannot be! He! Come now! It might happen to me or anyone else but him! Never! He could get out of any scrape!...”

Then his strength left him.

“Ah!, I can do no more,” he murmured.

Herbert ran to him.

“Neb,” said the lad, “we will find him! God will return him! But now you are hungry. Eat, eat a little, I beg you.”

And, while speaking, he offered the poor negro a handful of shellfish, a meager and insufficient nourishment.

Neb had not eaten for many hours but he refused. Deprived of his master he could not, he did not want to live!

As to Gideon Spilett, he devoured these mollusks. Then he lay down on the sand in front of a rock. He was worn out but calm. Herbert came up to him and offered him his hand:

“Sir,” he said, “we have discovered a shelter where you will be better off than here. It is getting dark. Get some rest. Tomorrow we will see...”

The reporter got up and, guided by the lad, he went toward the Chimneys.

Pencroff came over to him and asked him in a casual voice if by chance he had a match on him.

The reporter stopped, looked in his pockets, and didn’t find any. He said, “I had some but I must have thrown them away...”

The sailor then spoke to Neb. He asked the same question and got the same reply.

“Damn it!” cried the sailor, who could not hold back this word. The reporter heard him and going to Pencroff he said, “You have no matches?”

“Not a single one, and consequently we have no fire!”

“Ah!” shouted Neb, “If my master were here he would know how to make it!”

The four castaways stood there and looked at each other not without some uneasiness. It was Herbert who first broke the silence by saying:

“Mister Spilett, you are a smoker. You always have matches on you. Perhaps you have not looked thoroughly. Look again. A single match will suffice.”

The reporter rummaged again through his pants pockets, his waistcoat, his overcoat and finally to Pencroff’s great joy as well as to his own surprise he felt a piece of wood caught in the lining of his waistcoat. His fingers seized this small piece of wood through the fabric but he could not get it out. Since this was only one match they must not rub the phosphorous.

“Will you let me try it?” the lad asked him.

Very skillfully, without breaking it, he succeeded in removing this small piece of wood, this wretched and precious flare which for these poor people was of such importance. It was intact.

“A match!” shouted Pencroff. “Ah! It’s as if we had a whole cargo!”

He took the match and followed by his companions he went back to the Chimneys.

This small piece of wood which in civilized countries is lavished with indifference and has no value would have to be used here with extreme care. The sailor assured himself that it was really dry. That done he said, “We need some paper.”

“Here,” replied Gideon Spilett, who tore out a leaf from his notebook after some hesitation.

Pencroff took the piece of paper that the reporter gave him and he squatted in front of the fireplace. There several handfuls of grass, leaves and dry moss were placed under the faggots and arranged so that the air could easily circulate and the dead wood would catch fire quickly.

Then Pencroff folded the paper in the form of a cone, as smokers do in a high wind, and placed it among the mosses. Next taking a rather flat stone he wiped it with care. With his heart beating fast he gently rubbed the stone without breathing.

The first rubbing produced no effect. Pencroff had not applied enough pressure fearing that he would scratch the phosphorous.

“No, I can’t do it,” he said, “my hand trembles... The match did not catch fire... I cannot... I don’t want to,” and getting up he asked Herbert to take his place.

Certainly in all his life the lad had not been so nervous. His heart beat fast. Prometheus going to steal fire from Heaven had not been more anxious. He did not hesitate however and quickly rubbed the stone. They heard a sputter then a weak blue flame spurted out producing a sharp flame. Herbert gently turned the match so as to feed the flame, then he slipped it into the paper cone. The paper caught fire in a few seconds and the moss also caught.

Several moments later the dry wood crackled and a joyful flame, activated by the sailor’s vigorous breath, developed in the midst of the obscurity.

“Finally,” shouted Pencroff, getting up. “I was never so nervous in my life!”

“I was never so nervous in my life!”

The fire certainly burned well on the fireplace of flat stones. The smoke went easily through the narrow passage, the chimney drew the smoke and a pleasant warmth spread out.

As to the fire, they had to take care not to let it burn out and to always keep some embers under the ashes. But this was merely a matter of care and attention since there was no shortage of wood and their supply could always be renewed at their convenience. Pencroff first intended to use the fireplace to prepare a supper more nourishing than a dish of lithodomes. Herbert brought over two dozen eggs. The reporter, resting in a corner, watched these preparations without saying a word. Three thoughts were on his mind. Was Cyrus still alive? If he was alive where could he be? If he had survived his fall why had he not made his existence known? As to Neb, he prowled the beach. He was a body without a soul.

Pencroff, who knew fifty two ways to make eggs, had no options at the moment. He had to be content to introduce them among the warm cinders and to let them harden at a low heat.

In several minutes the baking took effect and the sailor invited the reporter to take his share of the supper. Such was the first meal of the castaways on this unknown shore. These hard eggs were excellent and since the egg contains all the elements needed for man’s nourishment these poor people found themselves well off and felt strengthened.

Ah! If only one of them had not been missing at this meal! If the five prisoners who escaped from Richmond could all have been there under this pile of rocks in front of this bright crackling fire on this dry sand, what thanks they would have given to Heaven! But the most ingenious, also the wisest, he who was their unquestioned chief, Cyrus Smith, was missing alas and his body had not even had a decent burial!

Thus passed the day of March 25. Night came. Outside they heard the wind whistling and the monotonous surf beating against the shore. The pebbles, tossed around by the waves, rolled about with a deafening noise.

The reporter retired on the floor of one of the corridors after having quickly noted the incidents of the day: the first appearance of this new land, the disappearance of the engineer, the exploration of the coast, the incident with the matches, etc.; and aided by fatigue he succeeded in finding some sleep.

Herbert slept well. As to the sailor, he spent the night with one eye on the fire and spared no fuel.

Only one of the castaways did not rest in the Chimneys. It was Neb, forlorn and without hope, who for the entire night, in spite of the pleadings of his companions to take some rest, wandered on the shore calling for his master!

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Castaways from the Sky

Chapter VI

The inventory of the castaways—Nothing—Burnt linen—An excursion in the forest—Evergreen flora—The jacamar escapes—Trace of wild beasts—The couroucous—Grouse—A curious fishing line.

THE inventory of the objects possessed by these castaways from the sky, thrown on a coast that appeared to be uninhabited, could be promptly established.

They had nothing except for the clothes on their backs at the moment of the catastrophe. We should however mention a notebook and a watch that Gideon Spilett had saved inadvertently no doubt, but not a weapon, not a tool, not even a pocket knife. The balloon passengers had thrown everything overboard in order to lighten it. The imaginary heros of Daniel de Foe or of Wyss, as well as Selkirk and Raynal, castaways at Juan-Fernandez or the archipelago of Auckland, never found themselves so absolutely helpless. They had abundant resources drawn from their stranded vessels whether in grain, animals, tools, munitions, or else some wreckage had reached the shore which allowed them to provide for the primary needs of life. At the start they did not find themselves absolutely disarmed in the face of nature. But here, no instrument whatsoever, not a utensil. Nothing, they must obtain everything!

If however, Cyrus Smith had been with them, if the engineer had been able to put his practical science, his inventive spirit to the service of this situation, perhaps all hope would not have been lost. Alas! They could not count on seeing Cyrus Smith again. The castaways could depend on no one but themselves and on Providence who never abandons those whose faith is sincere.

But before all else should they settle themselves on this part of the shore without trying to find out what continent it belonged to, if it was inhabited or if this coast was only the beach of a deserted island?

It was an important question to be resolved with the briefest delay. The measures to be taken would depend on the answer. However it was Pencroff’s advice that it would be better to wait several days before undertaking an exploration. In fact it was necessary to prepare provisions and to obtain food more substantial than only eggs and mollusks. The explorers, having endured long fatigue, without a shelter for sleeping, would have to refresh themselves before doing anything else.

The Chimneys offered a sufficient retreat for the time being. The fire was lit and it would be easy to save the cinders. For the moment there was no lack of mollusks and eggs among the rocks and on the beach. They would surely find the means to kill some of these pigeons that flew about by the hundreds at the crest of the plateau using sticks or stones. Perhaps the trees of the nearby forest would give them edible fruit? Finally sweet water was there. It was therefore agreed that for the next few days they would remain at the Chimneys in order to prepare there for an exploration either of the coastline or of the interior of the country.

This plan particularly suited Neb. As stubborn in his ideas as in his forebodings he was in no hurry to leave this part of the coast, the scene of the catastrophe. He did not believe, he did not want to believe that Cyrus Smith was lost. No, it didn’t seem possible that such a man met his end in so vulgar a fashion, carried off by a wave, drowned in the sea only a few hundred feet from shore. As long as the waves had not thrown up the body of the engineer, as long as he, Neb, had not seen with his own eyes, touched with his own hands the corpse of his master, he would not believe that he was dead. And this idea took root in his obstinate heart more than ever. Illusion perhaps but a respected illusion nevertheless which the sailor did not wish to destroy. For him there was no more hope and the engineer had indeed perished in the waves but with Neb there was nothing to discuss. He was like a dog that will not leave the place where his master died and his grief was such that he probably would not survive him.

On the morning of March 26th, at dawn, Neb went back to the shore in a northerly direction, returning to where the sea had doubtless closed in on the unfortunate Smith.

Breakfast on this day was composed only of pigeon eggs and of lithodomes. Herbert had found some salt left behind in the crevices of the rocks by evaporation and this mineral substance was put to good use.

The meal finished, Pencroff asked the reporter if he wanted to accompany them to the forest where Herbert and he would try to hunt. However, on further reflection it was decided that someone should stay behind to look after the fire and in the unlikely event that Neb would need help. The reporter would therefore stay behind.

“To the hunt, Herbert,” said the sailor. “We will find our munitions along the way and we will fire our guns in the forest.”

But, when they were about to leave, Herbert noted that since they had no tinder it would perhaps be prudent to replace it with another substance.

“What?” asked Pencroff.

“Burnt linen,” replied the lad. “In a pinch it can serve as tinder.”

The sailor found that this advice made sense except that it was inconvenient since it meant the sacrifice of a piece of handkerchief. Nevertheless it was worth the trouble and so a piece of Pencroff’s large square handkerchief was soon reduced to a half burnt rag. This inflammable material was placed in the central chamber at the bottom of a small cavity in a rock completely sheltered from wind and dampness.

It was then nine o’clock in the morning. The weather was threatening and the wind blew from the southeast. Herbert and Pencroff turned the corner of the Chimneys not without having thrown a glance at the smoke which was twirling around from the rocks; then they went up the left bank of the river.

Arriving at the forest, Pencroff first broke off two sturdy branches which he transformed into sticks and which Herbert ground down to a point on a rock. Ah! If they only had a knife! Then the two hunters advanced among the tall grass following the riverbank. On leaving the bend that changed its course to the southwest, the river grew narrower little by little and its banks formed a channel enclosed by a double arc of trees. Pencroff, not wanting to get lost, resolved to follow the water’s course which would always return him to his starting point. But the bank was not without several obstacles, here trees whose flexible branches bent to the level of the water, there creepers or thorn bushes which they had to break with their sticks. Often Herbert glided among the broken stumps with the agility of a young cat and he disappeared into the brushwood. But Pencroff recalled him immediately begging him not to go too far.

However, the sailor carefully noted the nature of the surroundings. On the left bank the soil was level and rose imperceptibly toward the interior. Sometimes moist, it then took on a marshy appearance. Everywhere they felt an underground network of streams which, by some subterranean fault, flowed toward the river. Also at some places a brook flowed through the brushwood which they crossed without difficulty. The opposite bank seemed to be more varied and the valley, of which the river occupied the center, was more sharply patterned. The hill, covered by trees of various sizes, formed a curtain which obstructed vision. On the right bank walking would have been difficult because of the cavities in the ground and because of the trees which, curved to the surface of the water, were held in place only by their roots.

Needless to say this forest as well as the bank already travelled over, showed no sign of any human touch. Pencroff noted the recent footprints of quadrupedes of a species he did not recognize. Most certainly—and this was also Herbert’s opinion—they had been left by formidable wild beasts which they would have to contend with doubtless; but nowhere the mark of a hatchet on a tree trunk nor the remains of an extinguished fire nor a footprint. They should perhaps congratulate themselves because in this part of the Pacific the presence of man was perhaps more to be feared than desired.

Pencorff noted the recent footprints.

Herbert and Pencroff scarcely spoke because of the great difficulties along the path. They advanced very slowly and after an hour they had scarcely gone a mile. Until then the hunt had not been productive. However, several birds were chirping and flying about under the branches showing themselves to be very timid as if man instinctively inspired them with a justifiable fear. Among other winged creatures Herbert noted, in a marshy part of the forest, a bird with a sharp and elongated beak which anatomically resembled a kingfisher. However it was distinguished by its rather rugged plummage which was coated with a metallic brilliance.

“This must be a ‘Jacamar’,” said Herbert, trying to close in on the animal.

“It will be quite an occasion to taste jacamar,” replied the sailor, “if this bird is in a humor to let himself be roasted.”

At this moment a stone, skillfully and vigorously thrown by the lad, struck the creature as it was about to fly off but this was not enough because the jacamar flew away at full speed and disappeared in an instant. “How clumsy I am,” cried Herbert.

“Not at all, my boy,” replied the sailor. “It was a good throw and more than one person would have missed the bird completely. Come! Do not feel frustrated. We will catch it another day.”

The exploration continued. As the hunters made headway the trees became more spacious and magnificent but none produced any edible fruit. Pencroff looked in vain for a few of those precious palm trees which have so many uses in domestic life and which are found as far as the fortieth parallel in the northern hemisphere and down to only the thirty fifth parallel in the southern hemisphere. But this forest was composed only of conifers such as the deodars, already recognized by Herbert, of Douglas pines, resembling those growing on the northwest coast of America, and of admirable spruce measuring a hundred fifty feet in height.

At this moment a flock of small birds with a pretty plumage, with a long and sparkling tail, scattered themselves among the branches, spreading their weakly attached feathers which covered the ground with a fine down. Herbert picked up a few of these feathers and after having examined them:

“These are ‘couroucous’,” he said.

“I would prefer a guinea fowl or a grouse cock,” replied Pencroff, “but are they good to eat?”

“They are good to eat and their flesh is even tender,” replied Herbert. “Besides, if I am not mistaken, it is easy to approach them and kill them with a stick.”

The sailor and the lad glided among the grass arriving at the foot of a tree whose lower branches were covered with small birds. The couroucous were waiting for the passage of insects, which served as their nourishment. One could see their feathered feet strongly clenching the sprouts which served to support them.

The hunters then straightened themselves up and moving their sticks like a scythe, they grazed entire rows of these couroucous who did not think of flying away and stupidly allowed themselves to be beaten. A hundred littered the ground when the others decided to fly.

“Well,” said Pencroff, “here is game made for hunters such as ourselves. We have only to reach out for it.”

On a flexible stick the sailor strung up the couroucous like larks and the exploration continued. They noted that the watercourse took a gentle turn southward but this detour could not really be a prolonged one because the river’s source was in the mountain and was fed by the melting snow which covered the sides of the central cone.

The particular object of this excursion, as we know, was to procure for the hosts of the Chimneys the largest possible quantity of game. One could not say that this goal had been attained up to now. The sailor actively pursued his search and how he raved when some animal that he did not even have time to recognize, escaped among the tall grass. If only they had had the dog Top. But Top had disappeared at the same time as his master and had probably perished with him.

About three o’clock in the afternoon they caught a glimpse of new flocks of birds who were pecking at the aromatic berries of certain trees, junipers among others. Suddenly, the real sound of a trumpet was heard in the forest. It was the strange and loud fanfare made by gallinules which are called “grouse” in the United States. Soon they saw several couples, with a variety of brown and fawn colored plumage, and with a brown tail. Herbert recognized the males by the two pointed fins formed by feathers raised on their neck. Pencroff judged it indispensable to get hold of one of these gallinules, as big as a hen, and whose flesh is like that of a prairie chicken. But this was difficult because they would not allow themselves to be approached. After several fruitless attempts, which had no other result than to frighten the grouse, the sailor said to the lad:

“Decidedly, since we can’t kill them in flight, we will try to take them with a line.”

“Like a fish?” cried Herbert, very surprised at this suggestion.

“Like a fish,” the sailor replied seriously.

Pencroff found among the grass a half dozen of the grouse’s nests, each having two or three eggs. He took great care not to touch these nests to which their proprietors would not fail to return. It was around these nests that he intended to stretch his lines—not collar traps but real hook lines. He took Herbert some distance away from the nests and there he prepared his strange contraption with the care appropriate to a disciple of Isaac Walton.[1] Herbert followed this activity with an interest easy to understand, while doubting its success. The lines were made of thin creepers fastened to one another to a length of fifteen to twenty feet. Some large strong thorns with bent points, furnished by a dwarf acacia bush, were tied to the ends of the creepers to take the place of hooks. As an allurement some large red worms, which were crawling on the ground, were put on the thorns.

That done, Pencroff moved among the grass skillfully concealing himself, placing the end of his lines with baited hooks near the grouse’s nests. Then he returned taking the other end and concealing himself with Herbert behind a large tree. Both then waited patiently. Herbert, it should be said, did not count much on the success of the inventive Pencroff.

A long half hour passed but, as predicted by the sailor, several couples of grouse returned to their nests. They hopped, pecked the ground, and gave no sign that they suspected the presence of the hunters who had taken care to place themselves to the leeward of the gallinules.

Certainly at this moment the lad was very attentive. He held his breath and Pencroff staring, his mouth open, his lips protruding as if he was about to taste a piece of grouse, was hardly breathing. However the gallinules walked among the hooks without noticing them. Pencroff then made small jerks which moved the bait as if the worms were still alive.

Assuredly at this moment the sailor felt an emotion greater than that of the fisherman. The latter does not see his prey approaching in the water.

The jerks soon attracted the attention of the gallinules and they pecked at the hooks. Three grouse, doubtless very voracious, swallowed both the bait and the hook. Suddenly with a quick movement, Pencroff sprung his trap and the flapping of the wings indicated to him that the birds had been taken.

“Hurrah!” he shouted, dashing toward the game which he made himself master of in an instant.

“Hurrah!” he shouted.

Herbert clapped his hands. It was the first time he had seen birds taken with a line but the sailor very modestly told him that it was not his first try and not his invention.

“And in any case,” he added, “in the situation that we find ourselves, we must depend on measures such as these.”

The grouse were tied by their feet and Pencroff, happy that he was not returning with empty hands, and seeing that the day was coming to an end, decided to return to his dwelling.

The path to follow was indicated by the river, there being no question of which direction, and at about six o’clock, rather tired from their excursion, Herbert and Pencroff again entered the Chimneys.

1. Celebrated author of a treatise on fishing with a line.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Castaways from the Sky

Chapter VII

The reporter's reflections—Supper—Neb has not yet returned—A bad night coming on—A frightful storm—Departure during the night—Struggling against the rain and the wind—Eight miles from the first encampment.

GIDEON SPILETT, motionless, his arms crossed, was on the beach looking at the sea whose horizon was obscured in the east by a large black cloud that was rapidly moving towards the zenith. The wind was already strong and becoming fresher with the decline of day. The sky looked bad and the first symptoms of a storm were apparent.

Herbert entered the Chimneys and Pencroff went to the reporter. The latter, very absorbed, did not see him come.

“We are going to have a bad night, Mister Spilett!” said the sailor. “Rain and wind are the joy of petrels.” [1]

The reporter, then turning, saw Pencroff and his first words were these:

“At what distance from the coast would you say the basket was when it was struck by the wave which carried off our companion?”

The sailor had not expected this question. He reflected for a moment and replied:

“At two cables length at most.”

“But what is a cable length?” asked Gideon Spilett.

“About one hundred twenty fathoms or six hundred feet.”

“Then,” said the reporter, “Cyrus Smith disappeared twelve hundred feet at most from the shore?”

“About,” replied Pencroff.

“And his dog also?”

“Also.”

“What astonishes me,” added the reporter, “while admitting that our companion has perished, is that Top has likewise met his end and that neither the body of the dog nor that of his master has been thrown on shore.”

“It is not astonishing with such a strong sea,” replied the sailor. “Besides, it is possible that the current has carried them further along the coast.”

“Thus it is your opinion that our companion has perished among the waves?” the reporter asked again.

“That is my opinion.”

“My opinion,” said Gideon Spilett, “much as I respect your experience, Pencroff, is that the double fact of the absolute disappearance of Cyrus and Top, living or dead, is an inexplicable thing and improbable.”

“I wish I could think like you, Mister Spilett,” replied Pencroff, “unfortunately my mind is made up.”

That said, the sailor returned to the Chimneys. A good fire crackled on the hearth. Herbert threw an armful of dry wood on it and the flame shed light into the gloomy parts of the passageway. Pencroff occupied himself at once with preparing dinner. It seemed best to introduce into the menu some “pièce de résistance” because everyone needed to renew his strength. The strings of couroucous were saved for the next day but they plucked two grouse and soon the gallinules were roasting on a spit in front of a flaming fire.

At seven o’clock in the evening Neb had not yet returned. This prolonged absence could only make Pencroff uneasy about the negro. They were forced to believe that he had met with some accident on this unknown land or that the unfortunate had performed some act of despair. But Herbert drew totally different conclusions from this absence. According to him, if Neb had not yet returned, it was due to some new circumstance which caused him to prolong his search. Now anything new could only be to Cyrus Smith’s advantage. Why had Neb not returned unless some hope retained him? Perhaps he had found some indication, a footprint, the remains of a wreck which put him on the track? Perhaps at this very moment he was following a certain clue? Perhaps he was even near his master?...

Thus reasoned the lad. Thus he spoke. His companions let him speak. The reporter alone approved with a gesture. But for Pencroff it was probable that Neb had gone further than the previous day in his search along the coast and that he could not yet return.

However, Herbert was agitated by vague premonitions and several times he wanted to go to meet Neb. But Pencroff made him understand that it would be a useless course, that in this obscurity and because of the deplorable weather, he could not find traces of Neb, and that it was worth waiting. If by the next day Neb had not reappeared, Pencroff would not hesitate to join Herbert in going to search for Neb.

On this point Gideon Spilett agreed with he sailor that they must not separate and Herbert had to give up his project; but two large tears fell from his eyes.

The reporter could not refrain from embracing the generous lad.

The bad weather had absolutely broken out. A violent southeast windstorm without equal passed over the coast. They heard the sea, then at low tide, roar against the leading rocks on the beach. The rain, pulverized by the storm, rose up like a wet mist. Wisps of fog dragged along the shore where pebbles rattled violently like cartloads emptying themselves. The sand, lifted by the wind, mashed into showers and made the assault indefensible. There was just as much mineral dust in the air as water vapor. Large eddies swirled between the mouth of the river and the face of the wall and the stratum of air that escaped from this maelstrom could find no exit other than the narrow valley whose watercourse was engulfed with a irresistible violence. The smoke from the hearth, restricted by the narrow passageway, backed up frequently, filling the corridors and rendering them uninhabitable.

That is why, as soon as the grouse were roasted, Pencroff let the fire die down, conserving nothing but the embers buried under the cinders.

At eight o’clock Neb has still not reappeared; but they could now assume that it was the awful weather alone that prevented his return and that he had found refuge in some hollow to wait out the end of the storm or at least the return of day. As to going to meet him, to attempt to find him under these conditions, this was impossible.

The game formed the only dish of supper. They gladly ate this meat which was excellent. Pencroff and Herbert, whose appetites were excited by their long excursion, were ravenous.

Then each retired to the corner where he had rested the previous night, and Herbert was not long in falling asleep near the sailor who stretched out along the length of the hearth.

Outside, as the night advanced, the tempest took on formidable proportions. It was a windstorm comparable to the one that carried the prisoners from Richmond to this land in the Pacific. Tempests are frequent during the equinoctial season. They are fruitful in producing terrible catastrophes throughout this large area where there are no obstacles to oppose their fury. One can then understand that a coast so exposed to the east, that is to say in direct line with the storm and struck headlong, was battered by a force that cannot be described.

Very fortunately, the pile of rocks which formed the Chimneys was sturdy. It was composed of enormous sections of granite of which a few, nevertheless, not being in sufficient balance, seemed to tremble on their base. Pencroff sensed this and pressing his hand against the walls felt the rapid quiverings. But finally he said to himself over and over, and with reason, that there was nothing to fear and that his improvised retreat would not cave in. Nevertheless he heard the clatter of the rocks which, detached from the summit of the plateau and uprooted by the swirling wind, fell on the beach. A few even rolled as far as the upper part of the Chimneys or broke into splinters when they fell straight down. Twice the sailor got up and crawled to the opening of the passageway to look outside. But these falls which were not considerable did not constitute any danger and he returned to his place in front of the fire whose embers were sputtering under the cinders.

Pencorff crawled to the opening of the passageway.

Despite the furies of the hurricane, the roar of the tempest, the thunder of the storm, Herbert was in a deep sleep. Sleep finally took possession even of Pencroff since a seaman’s life had accustomed him to all these violences. Gideon Spilett alone was wide awake because of the commotion. He reproached himself for not having accompanied Neb. One could see that all hope had not abandoned him. The misgivings that had agitated Herbert did not cease to agitate him also. His thoughts were concentrated on Neb. Why had Neb not returned? He tossed on his bed of sand hardly giving a thought to the battle of the elements. At times his eyes, heavy with fatigue, closed for an instant but some cursory thought reopened them almost at once.

However the night advanced and it may have been two o’clock in the morning when Pencroff, then in a deep sleep, was shaken vigorously.

“What is it?” he cried, awakening and recollecting his thoughts with a promptitude typical of seamen.

The reporter was leaning over him and said to him:

“Listen Pencroff, listen!”

The sailor cocked his ear but could not distinguish any sound foreign to that of the squall.

“It is the wind,” he said.

“No,” replied Gideon Spilett, listening again. “I thought that I heard...”

“What?”

“A dog barking!”

“A dog!” cried Pencroff, getting up in a single bound.

“Yes... barking...”

“That isn’t possible!” replied the sailor. “And besides, how with the roar of the storm...”

“Wait... Listen...” said the reporter.

Pencroff listened more attentively and in fact he thought that he heard a distant barking in a quiet moment.

“Well!...” said the reporter, pressing the sailor’s hand.

“Yes... Yes!...” replied Pencroff.

“It’s Top!... It’s Top!...” shouted Herbert, just awakening, and all three dashed toward the entrance to the Chimneys.

They left with extreme difficulty. The wind drove them back. But finally they succeeded although they could not stand erect without resting against the rocks. They saw but they could not speak.

The obscurity was absolute. The sea, the sky, the ground were merged in equal darkness. It seemed that there was not an atom of light in the sky.

For several minutes the reporter and his two companions remained so, crushed by the storm, drenched by the rain, blinded by the sand. Then they heard the barking once again during a respite in the storm, which came from rather far away.

It could only be Top barking this way! But was he alone or accompanied? Most likely he was alone because if they assumed that Neb was with him, Neb would have gone with all speed toward the Chimneys.

Since he could not make himself heard the sailor pressed the hand of the reporter as if to say: “Wait!” Then he reentered the corridor.

An instant later he came out again with a lighted faggot which lit up the gloom. He whistled sharply.

It seemed as if this signal was expected. In response the barking came much nearer and soon a dog dashed into the corridor. Pencroff, Herbert and Gideon Spilett followed him there.

...this signal was expected.

An armful of dry wood was thrown on the embers. A vivid flame lit up the corridor.

“It’s Top!” shouted Herbert.

In fact it was Top, a magnificent anglo-norman crossbreed who inherited from both species speed and odor sensitivity, the two qualities par excellence of the hunting dog.

It was the dog of the engineer Cyrus Smith.

But he was alone! Neither his master nor Neb accompanied him!

Moreover how had his instinct been able to lead him to the Chimneys which he did not know? This appeared inexplicable especially on such a dark night, and in such a storm! An even more inexplicable detail was that Top was neither fatigued nor exhausted, not even soiled with mud or sand!...

Herbert went toward him and pressed his head between his hands. The dog rubbed his neck on the lad’s hands.

“If the dog has been found the master will also be found!” said the reporter.

“God will it!” replied Herbert. “Let us leave! Top will guide us!”

Pencroff made no objection. He felt that Top’s arrival contradicted his conjectures.

“Let’s go,” he said.

Pencroff carefully covered the embers of the fire. He placed several pieces of wood under the cinders so that the fire could be rekindled on their return. Then, preceded by the dog who seemed to invite them with short barks, and followed by the reporter and the lad, he dashed outside after having taken the remains of the supper.

The storm was then in all its violence and perhaps even at its maximum intensity. No moonlight filtered through the clouds since the moon was then new and as a consequence in conjunction with the sun. It was difficult to follow a straight course. It was best to rely on Top’s instinct. This is what was done. The reporter and the lad followed behind the dog and the sailor brought up the rear. No exchange of words was possible. The rain did not fall very abundantly because it was pulverized by the blast of the storm but the storm was terrible.

However one circumstance very happily favored the sailor and his two companions. The wind in fact blew from the southeast and consequently it pushed them from the back. The sand which was violently thrown about and which would not have been bearable, hit them from the rear, and provided no one turned around, it did not interfere with their journey. In summation they often went faster than they wanted. It affected their walk almost to the point of throwing them down but an immense hope doubled their efforts and it was no longer at random this time that they ascended the shore. They had no doubt that Neb had found his master and had sent the faithful dog to them. But was the engineer living or was Neb only summoning his companions to render the last rites to the body of the unfortunate Smith?

After going beyond the cut slab of the highland which they prudently side stepped, Herbert, the reporter and Pencroff stopped to catch their breath. The turn of the cliff sheltered them from the wind and they caught their breath after this march of a quarter of an hour which had been something of a race.

At this moment they could hear and reply and the lad pronounced the name of Cyrus Smith. Top barked in short barks as if he wanted to say that his master was rescued.

“Saved, isn’t he?” repeated Herbert, “Saved, Top?”

And the dog barked as if in response.

The march was resumed. It was about half past two in the morning. The sea began to rise and driven by the wind this tide, which was an equinoctial tide, threatened to be very strong. The large waves boomed against the reef and assailed it with such violence that very likely it would pass over the islet, then completely invisible. This long barrier could therefore no longer protect the coast which was directly exposed to the onslaught of the open sea.

As soon as the sailor and his companions left the cut slab behind, the wind struck them anew with an extreme fury. Bent and straining their backs against the squall, they moved very quickly following Top who did not hesitate as to the direction to take. They went north having on their right an interminable crest of waves which broke with a deafening roar and on their left an obscure land the aspect of which it was impossible to know. But they sensed that it was relatively flat because the wind now passed over them without turning them about, an effect which was produced when it struck them at the granite wall.

At four o’clock in the morning they estimated that a distance of five miles had been covered. The clouds were slightly higher and did not drag the ground. The squall, less humid, moving in very brisk currents, was drier and colder. Insufficiently protected by their clothing, Pencroff, Herbert and Gideon Spilett suffered cruelly but not a complaint escaped their lips. They had decided to follow Top wherever the intelligent animal wanted to lead them.

About five o’clock day began to break. First, at the zenith, where the haze was not so dense, several grayish hues delineated the border of the clouds and soon, beneath an opaque band, a more luminous stretch clearly outlined the water’s horizon. The crest of waves had a light brown glimmer and the foam was white. At the same time, on the left, the random parts of the coast began to loom up vaguely, but it was still in the gray of the night.

At six o’clock in the morning day broke. The clouds moved rapidly to a relatively higher elevation. The sailor and his companions were then about six miles from the Chimneys. They followed a very flat shoreline bordered on the open sea by a line of rocks whose tops alone emerged. On the left the country was composed of several uneven dunes bristling with thistles, offering a rather savage aspect in a vast sandy region. The shoreline was not indented and offerred no barrier to the ocean other than an irregular chain of hillocks. Here and there one or two twisted trees were bent toward the west, with their branches projecting in this direction. Well behind them, in the southwest, appeared the edge of the forest.

At this moment Top gave unequivocal signs of agitation. He went on ahead and returned to the sailor as if urging him to hasten his steps. The dog had then left the beach and, driven on by an admirable instinct, without showing a moment’s hesitation, he entered among the dunes.

They followed him. The country appeared to be absolutely deserted. Not a living being anywhere.

The very extensive area of the dunes was composed of hillocks and even of randomly distributed hills. It was like a miniature Switzerland in sand and nothing less than a prodigious instinct could recognize it.

Five minutes after having left the beach the reporter and his companions arrived in front of a sort of excavation hollowed out in the rear of a high dune. There Top stopped and barked loud and clear. Spilett, Herbert and Pencroff dashed into the cave.

Neb was there kneeling next to a body lying on a bed of grass... The body was that of the engineer Cyrus Smith.

The body was that of the engineer.

1. Sea birds who especially enjoy a storm.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Castaways from the Sky

Chapter VIII

Is Cyrus Smith living?—Neb's recital—Footprints—An unresolved question—Cyrus Smith's first words—The identification of footprints—Return to the Chimneys—Pencroff overwhelmed.

NEB did not move. The sailor said only one word to him.

“Living?” he cried.

Neb did not reply. Gideon Spilett and Pencroff turned pale. Herbert clasped his hands and remained immobile. But it was evident that the poor negro, absorbed in his grief, had neither seen his companions nor heard the sailor’s words.

The reporter knelt next to the motionless body and placed his ear on the chest of the engineer after having half-opened his garment. A minute—a century—passed, during which he tried to detect some heartbeat.

Neb had straightened up a bit and stared without seeing. Despair could not have changed a man’s face more. Neb was unrecognizable, exhausted by fatigue, broken by pain. He believed his master dead. Gideon Spilett got up after a long and careful examination.

“He lives!” he said.

Pencroff, in his turn, knelt next to Cyrus Smith; his ear also detected some heartbeats and some breath that escaped from the engineer’s lips.

On a word from the reporter Herbert ran outside to look for water. A hundred feet away he found a clear stream, evidently very swollen by the rains of the previous evening, which filtered through the sand. But there was nothing in which to carry this water, not a shell among these dunes. The lad had to content himself with dipping his handkerchief into the stream, and he ran back to the cave.

Fortunately the soaked handkerchief was sufficient for Gideon Spilett who wanted only to wet the engineer’s lips. These molecules of cool water produced an almost immediate effect. A sigh escaped from Cyrus Smith’s chest and it even appeared that he was trying to say a few words.

“We will save him!” said the reporter.

At these words Neb recovered hope. He undressed his master in order to see if the body showed any wound. Neither the head nor the torso nor the limbs had any contusions, not even any scratches, a surprising thing, since the engineer’s body must have been tossed around the rocks. Even the hands were intact, and it was difficult to explain how the engineer showed no trace of the efforts he must have made to get past the reef.

But the explanation of these circumstances would come later. When Cyrus Smith would be able to speak he would tell what had happened. For the moment they must recall him to life and it was likely that rubbing would bring on this result. This is what was done with the sailor’s pea jacket. The engineer, warmed by this rough massage, moved his hands slightly and his respiration began to re-establish itself in a more regular fashion. He was dying of exhaustion and certainly without the arrival of the reporter and his companions it would have been all over for Cyrus Smith.

“You therefore thought that your master was dead?” the sailor asked Neb.

“Yes! Dead!” replied Neb, “and if Top had not found you, if you had not come, I would have buried my master and I would have died beside him!”

One could see on what the life of Cyrus Smith had depended!

Neb related what had happened. The day before, after having left the Chimneys at daybreak, he went along the coast in a northeasterly direction and reached the point on the shore that he had already visited.

There, without any hope he admitted, Neb searched on the shore, among the rocks, on the sand, for the least indication to guide him. He had especially examined the part of the shore that the high tide had not reached because on the beach the rise and fall of the tide had erased all indices. Neb no longer hoped to find his master living. It was to discover a cadaver that he went, a cadaver that he wanted to bury with his own hands!

Neb searched for a long time. His efforts remained fruitless. It did not seem that this deserted coast had ever been frequented by a human being. Those shells that the sea had not reached—and which could be seen by the millions above the tideline—were intact. Not a crushed shell. In a zone of two to three hundred yards [1] not a trace of a landing existed neither past nor present.

Neb then decided to go along the coast for several miles. It is possible that currents can carry a body to a far point. When a cadaver floats a short distance from a straight shore it is rare when the waves do not reject it sooner or later. Neb knew this and he wanted to see his master one last time.

“I ran along the shore for two more miles. I visited the entire reef line at low tide, the entire beach at high tide, and I despaired of finding anything when yesterday, about five o’clock in the evening, I noted footprints in the sand.”

“Footprints?” cried Pencroff.

“Yes!” replied Neb.

“And did these footprints begin at the reef?” asked the reporter.

“No,” replied Neb, “at the high water mark only, because those between the high water mark and the reef were effaced.”

“Continue, Neb,” said Gideon Spilett.

“When I saw these prints I became insane. They were very distinct and went toward the dunes. Running, I followed them for a quarter of a mile but taking care not to erase them. Five minutes later, as night was coming on, I heard a dog barking. It was Top, and Top led me here to my master.”

Neb finished his recital by telling them about his grief on finding this inanimate body. He tried to detect some sign of life in him. Now that he had found him dead he wanted him alive. All his efforts were useless. Nothing remained but to render the last rites to him that he loved so much.

Neb then thought of his companions. Doubtless they would want to see the unfortunate for one last time. Top was there. Couldn’t he count on the shrewdness of the faithful animal? Neb pronounced the reporter’s name several times, the one that Top knew best of the engineer’s companions. Then he pointed to the south of the shore and the dog darted off in the direction that was indicated to him.

We already know how, guided by an instinct that could almost be regarded as supernatural because the animal had never been to the Chimneys, Top nevertheless arrived there.

Neb’s companions carefully listened to this recital. It astonished them that Cyrus Smith, after the efforts he must have made to escape the waves and get past the reef, did not even show a scratch. And what was also unexplainable was that the engineer had been able to get to this out of the way cave in the middle of dunes more than a mile from the coast.

“Thus, Neb,” said the reporter, “it wasn’t you who brought your master to this place?”

“No, it was not I,” replied Neb.

“It is obvious that Mr. Smith came here alone,” said Pencroff.

“It is obvious,” noted Gideon Spilett, “but it is not believable!”

They could only get the explanation of this fact from the engineer himself. They would have to wait until speech returned to him. Fortunately life was already recovering its rhythm. The massage had reestablished the circulation of the blood. Cyrus Smith moved his arms again, then his head, and several incomprehensible words escaped from his lips.

Neb, bending over him, called him, but the engineer did not seem to hear and his eyes were still closed. Life revealed itself only by movement. The senses still played no part in it.

Pencroff was very sorry to have no fire nor the means for procuring it because he had unfortunately forgotten to take the burnt linen which would have been easy to ignite by striking two flintstones. As to the engineer’s pockets, they were absolutely empty except for his vest which contained his watch. They must transport Cyrus Smith to the Chimneys as soon as possible. All agreed.

Moreover the care which was lavished on the engineer was making his recovery more rapid than they had dared to hope. The water with which they wet his lips was reviving him little by little. Pencroff had the idea of mixing with this water some of the gravy from the flesh of the grouse that he had taken along. Herbert, running to the shore, returned with two large bivalve shells. The sailor made a sort of mixture and introduced it between the lips of the engineer, who seemed eager to suck this mash.

His eyes then opened. Neb and the reporter were bent over him. “My master! My Master!” shouted Neb.

The engineer heard him. He recognized Neb and Spilett, then his two other companions, Herbert and the sailor and his hand lightly pressed theirs.

Several words again escaped from his mouth—words that he had doubtless already pronounced and which indicated the thoughts that were even then tormenting his mind. This time these words were understood. “Island or continent?” he murmured.

“Ah,” cried Pencroff, who could not hold back this exclamation. “By all the devils we couldn’t care less provided you are alive, Mister Cyrus! Island or continent? We will see later.”

The engineer made a slight affirmative sign and appeared to sleep. They respected this sleep and the reporter immediately made arrangements to have the engineer transported under the best conditions. Neb, Herbert and Pencroff left the cave and made their way toward a high dune crowned with some rickety trees. On the way the sailor could not help repeating:

“Island or continent! To think of that when one has only a breath. What a man!”

Arriving at the top of the dune, Pencroff and his two companions, without any tools but their hands, stripped off the main branches from a rather sickly tree, a sort of maritime pine emaciated by the wind; then with these branches they made a litter which, once covered with foliage and grass, would permit them to transport the engineer.

It took about forty minutes and it was ten o’clock when the sailor, Neb and Herbert returned to Cyrus Smith whom Gideon Spilett had not left.

The engineer was then up from his sleep or rather from this drowsiness in which they had found him. The color returned to his cheeks which had had the pallor of death. He got up a little, looked around him, and seemed to ask where he was.

“Can you listen to me without tiring yourself, Cyrus?” asked the reporter.

“Yes,” replied the engineer.

“I would suggest,” the sailor then said, “That Mister Smith could listen to you much better if he had more of this grouse jelly—because it is grouse, Mister Cyrus,” he added, presenting him some of this jelly to which this time he added some scraps of flesh.

Cyrus Smith chewed bits of grouse the remainder of which was distributed to his four companions who suffered from hunger. They found the meal rather meager.

“Good,” said the sailor, “we have provisions waiting for us at the Chimneys, because it is well for you to know, Mister Cyrus, we have down there in the south a house with rooms, beds and a fireplace and in the pantry some dozens of birds which our Herbert calls couroucous. Your litter is ready and as soon as you feel strong enough we will transport you to our dwelling.”

“Thanks, my friend,” replied the engineer, “in an hour or two we will be able to leave... and now, speak, Spilett.”

The reporter then told him all that had occurred. He related those events not known to Cyrus Smith, the last fall of the balloon, setting foot on this unknown land which appeared deserted whether it was an island or a continent, the discovery of the Chimneys, the search to find the engineer, Neb’s devotion, all that they owed to the intelligence of the faithful Top, etc.

“But,” asked Cyrus Smith in a voice still weak, “you therefore did not pick me up at the beach?”

“No,” replied the reporter.

“And it wasn’t you who brought me to this cave?”

“No.”

“At what distance is this cave from the reef?”

“About half a mile,” replied Pencroff, “and if you are astonished, Mister Cyrus, we are no less surprised ourselves to see you in this place!”

“In fact,” replied the engineer, who was reviving little by little and taking an interest in these details, “in fact, there is something peculiar!”

“But,” responded the sailor, “can you tell us what happened after you were carried away by the wave?”

Cyrus Smith tried to remember. He knew little. The wave had torn him from the ropes of the balloon. At first he sank several fathoms into the deep. Returning to the surface of the sea, he felt a living being moving near him in the semi-obscurity. It was Top who threw himself in to come to his aid. On raising his eyes he could no longer see the balloon which, relieved of his weight and that of the dog, had shot away like an arrow. He found himself among angry waves not less than a half mile from shore. He tried to battle the waves and swam vigorously. Top held him up by his clothes but a strong current seized him and pushed him northward and after a half hour of struggling he sank dragging Top with him to the abyss. From that time until the moment when he found himself in the arms of his friends he remembered nothing.

“However,” said Pencroff, “you must have been thrown on the beach and you must have had the strength to come here since Neb found your footprints!”

“Yes... that must be it...” replied the engineer, reflecting. “And you did not see traces of human beings on this shore?”

“No trace,” replied the reporter. “Besides, if by chance some rescuer ran into you there why would he have abandoned you after having plucked you from the waves?”

“You are right, my dear Spilett.” “Tell me Neb,” added the engineer turning to his servant, “it was not you who... you did not have a forgetful moment... during which... No, that is absurd... Are there any other footprints?” asked Cyrus Smith.

“Yes, my master,” replied Neb, “here at the entrance which is at the back of this dune sheltered from the wind and the rain. The others have been erased by the storm.”

“Pencroff,” responded Cyrus Smith, “would you take my shoes and see if they positively fit these footprints?”

The sailor did what the engineer asked. Herbert and he, guided by Neb, went to check the footprints while Cyrus said to the reporter: “These events are inexplicable!”

“Inexplicable indeed!” replied Gideon Spilett.

“But let us not dwell on it at the moment, my dear Spilett. We will discuss it later.”

An instant later the sailor, Neb and Herbert returned.

There was no doubt possible. The engineer’s shoes fit the remaining footprints exactly. Therefore it was Cyrus Smith who had left them in the sand.

“So then,” he said, “it was I who experienced this hallucination, this absence which I attributed to Neb! I moved like a sleepwalker without being conscious of my steps and it was Top who instinctively led me here after having dragged me from the waves... Come Top! Come my dog!”

The magnificent animal ran to his master, barking, and the caresses were not spared.

They agreed that there was no other explanation to be given to the events that led up to Cyrus Smith’s rescue and that all honor belonged to Top.

Around noontime Pencroff asked Cyrus Smith if he was ready to travel. With an effort that attested to a very energetic will, Cyrus Smith responded by getting up. But he had to lean on the sailor or he would have fallen.

He had to lean on the sailor.

“Good! Good!” said Pencroff, “bring the engineer’s litter.”

The litter was brought. The transverse branches were covered with moss and long grass. They placed Cyrus Smith on it and started toward the coast, Pencroff carrying it at one end and Neb at the other.

There were eight miles to cover. Since they could not go fast and since it would perhaps be necessary to stop frequently they could count on a lapse of time of at least six hours to get to the Chimneys.

The wind was still strong but fortunately it was no longer raining. While lying down the engineer rested on his arms and observed the coastline especially the part opposite the sea. He did not speak but looked and certainly the design of this country with its random terrain, its forests and its various productions impressed itself on his mind. However, after travelling for two hours he was overcome by fatigue and he slept on the litter.

He slept on the litter.

At five thirty the small group arrived at the cut slab and a little later in front of the Chimneys.

They all stopped and the litter was placed on the sand. Cyrus Smith was in a deep sleep and did not waken.

To his great surprise Pencroff saw that last night’s frightful storm had altered the surroundings. A serious landslide had occurred. Large sections of rock were deposited on the beach and a thick layer of seaweed, wrack and algae covered the entire shore. Evidently the sea, passing over the islet, had carried itself up to the foot of the enormous wall of granite.

In front of the Chimneys the soil had deep holes having been subjected to a violent assault of the waves.

Pencroff had a premonition. He dashed into the corridor.

Almost immediately he came out, standing still, looking at his companions...

The fire was extinguished. The drowned cinders were nothing but slime. The burnt linen, which was to have served as tinder, had disappeared. The sea had penetrated deeply into the passageways and all was overthrown, all was demolished in the interior of the Chimneys!

1. The yard is an American measure of length which equals 0.9144 meters.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Castaways from the Sky

Chapter IX

Cyrus is here—Pencroff's endeavors—Rubbed wood—Island or continent?—The engineer's plans—Where in the Pacific Ocean?—In the depth of the forest—The pine kernel—Hunting capybara—A smoke that augurs well.

IN a few words Gideon Spilett, Herbert and Neb were brought up to date. This accident which could have very serious consequences—at least Pencroff envisioned it so—produced diverse effects on the honest sailor’s companions.

Neb, in his joy at having found his master, did not listen, or rather did not even want to concern himself with what Pencroff said. Herbert, to some degree, shared the sailor’s apprehensions.

As to the reporter he simply responded to Pencroff’s words:

“By my faith, Pencroff, it’s all the same to me!”

“But I repeat to you that we no longer have any fire!”

“Pooh!”

“Nor any means of relighting it.”

“Fudge!”

“Nevertheless, Mister Spilett...”

“Isn’t Cyrus Smith here?” replied the reporter. “Isn’t our engineer alive? He will easily find the means of making us some fire, he!”

“And with what?”

“With nothing.”

What could Pencroff say? There was no reply because deep down he shared the confidence that his companions had in Cyrus Smith. The engineer was for them a microcosm composed of all the science and all human intelligence. Better to find oneself with Cyrus on a deserted island than without Cyrus in the most industrialized city of the Union. With him they could want for nothing. With him they could not despair. If someone were to tell these brave people that a volcanic eruption would annihilate this land, that this land would be thrown into the depths of the Pacific, they would have imperturbably replied: “Cyrus is here. See Cyrus!”

In the meanwhile, however, the engineer was once more plunged into a new prostration brought on by the journey and they could not call on his ingenuity at the moment. Supper was necessarily meager. In fact all the grouse meat had been eaten and there was no means whatsoever of roasting any game. Besides, the couroucous which served as a reserve had disappeared. Thus they must consider. Before anything else Cyrus Smith was transported into the central corridor. There they managed to arrange a couch of algae and seaweed that had remained almost dry. The deep sleep that took possession of him would doubtless do more to quickly bring his strength back than would any abundant nourishment.

Night came on and with it the temperature, modified by a shift in the wind from the northeast, went to freezing once more. Now, since the sea had destroyed the partitions established by Pencroff at certain points in the corridors, the air currents were re-established, which rendered the Chimneys barely habitable. The engineer would therefore have found himself in rather poor circumstances if his companions, removing a vest or a waistcoat, had not carefully covered him.

Supper this evening was composed only of the inevitable lithodomes amply gathered by Herbert and Neb on the shore. However, to these mollusks the lad added a certain quantity of edible algae that he collected on some high rocks that the sea could not reach except at times of extremely high tides. These algae belonged to the fucus family, being a species of sargassum which when dry furnishes a gelatinous material rather rich in nutrients. The reporter and his companions, after having eaten a considerable quantity of lithodomes, sucked this sargassum which they found to have a good flavor. It should be said that on Asiatic shores they are an important food for the natives.

“Never mind,” said the sailor, “it is time for Mister Smith to help us.”

However, the cold became very sharp and unfortunately they had no means of fighting it.

The sailor, truly vexed, looked for every possible way to make a fire. Neb even helped him with this. They found some dry moss and striking two pebbles they obtained some sparks but the moss, not being sufficiently flammable, did not catch. Moreover, these sparks, which were only from incandescent flint, did not have the same consistency as those which escape from a piece of steel in the ordinary tinder box. Thus the operation did not succeed.

Pencroff, while having no confidence in the procedure, then tried rubbing two pieces of dry wood against each other the way the savages do. Certainly the work put in by Neb and himself, if transformed into heat according to the latest theories, would have been sufficient to heat the boiler of a steamer. The result was negative. The wood heated up, that was all, but not as much as the operators themselves.

Pencroff tried rubbing two pieces...

After working for an hour Pencroff was in a rage and he threw the pieces of wood away with spite.

“When someone can make me believe that the savages make fire in this way” he said, “it will be hot even in winter! I could sooner light up my arms by rubbing them against each other!”

The sailor was wrong in belittling this procedure. It is known that savages set fire to wood by means of a rapid rubbing. But all kinds of wood are not proper for this operation and in addition there is the “knack”, following the hallowed expression, and it is likely that Pencroff did not have the “knack.”

Pencroff’s ill humor did not last long. The two pieces of wood thrown away by him were retrieved by Herbert who did his best to rub them with renewed vigor. The robust sailor could not hold back a laugh on seeing the adolescent’s efforts to succeed where he had failed.

“Rub, my boy, rub!” he said.

“I am rubbing,” replied Herbert laughing, “but I do not pretend to do anything except take my turn at warming myself instead of shivering. Soon I will be as warm as you, Pencroff!”

That is what happened. But he had to give up on making a fire for this evening. Gideon Spilett repeated for the twentieth time that Cyrus Smith would not have been inconvenienced by such a trifle. And while waiting, he stretched out in one of the corridors on a bed of sand. Herbert, Neb and Pencroff did likewise while Top slept at the foot of his master.

The next day, March 28th, when the engineer woke up about eight o’clock in the morning he saw his companions near him watching his sleep. As on the previous day his first words were:

“Island or continent?”

One could see that he had but one idea.

“Well” replied Pencroff, “we know nothing about it, Mister Smith!”

“You still do not know?...”

“But we will know,” added Pencroff, “when you will have guided us in this land.”

“I think I’m well enough to try it,” replied the engineer who, without too much effort, got up and held himself erect.

“That’s good,” cried the sailor.

“I am dying especially of exhaustion,” replied Cyrus Smith. “My friends, a little nourishment, and it will no longer show. You have some fire, don’t you?”

This question did not get an immediate response. But after a few moments:

“Alas! We have no fire,” said Pencroff, “or rather, Mister Cyrus, we have it no longer!”

And the sailor related all that had occurred on the previous day. He enlivened the engineer with his story of the single match and of his aborted attempt to make a fire the way the savages do.

“We will think about it,” replied the engineer, “and if we do not find a substance similar to tinder...”

“Then?” asked the sailor.

“Then we will make matches.”

“With chemicals?”

“With chemicals.”

“It isn’t more difficult than that,” cried the reporter, slapping the sailor’s shoulder.

The latter did not find the thing so simple but he did not protest. They all went out. The weather was fine once again. A bright sun was rising on the sea’s horizon, striking the rugged prisms of the enormous wall with golden rays.

After having cast a quick glance around him the engineer sat down on a rock. Herbert offered him a few handfuls of mussels and seaweed saying:

“This is all that we have, Mister Cyrus.”

“Thanks, my boy,” replied Cyrus Smith, “this will suffice, for this morning at least.”

And he ate with appetite this meager nourishment which he washed down with a little fresh water drawn from the river in a large shell.

His companions looked at him without speaking. Then after satisfying himself more or less, Cyrus Smith crossed his arms saying:

“So my friends, you still do not know if fate has thrown us on a continent or on an island?”

“No, Mister Cyrus,” responded the lad.

“We will know that tomorrow,” replied the engineer. “Until then, there is nothing to do.”

“Except,” said Pencroff.

“What?”

“Fire” said the sailor, who also had only one idea.

“We will make it, Pencroff,” replied Cyrus Smith. “While you transported me yesterday didn’t I see in the west a mountain which overlooked this land?”

“Yes,” replied Gideon Spilett, “a rather high mountain...”

“Good,” replied the engineer, “tomorrow we will climb to the top and we will see if this land is an island or a continent. Until then, I repeat, there is nothing to do.”

“Yes, some fire,” said the stubborn sailor.

“But we will make fire,” replied Gideon Spilett, “a little patience, Pencroff.”

The sailor looked at Gideon Spilett as if to say: “If it depended on you to make it, we wouldn’t taste any roast soon.” But he was silent.

However, Cyrus Smith did not reply. He seemed very little preoccupied with this question of fire. For several moments he remained absorbed in his thoughts. Then he spoke again.

“My friends,” he said, “our situation is perhaps deplorable but in any case it is very simple. Either we are on a continent and then at the price of more or less fatigue we will reach some inhabited point or we are definitely on an island. In the latter case there are two possibilities: If the island is inhabited we will see to our affairs with its inhabitants: If it is deserted, we will see to our affairs all alone.”

“Nothing is simpler,” replied Pencroff.

“But be it a continent or an island,” asked Gideon Spilett, “where do you think, Cyrus, this storm has thrown us?”

“The exact location I cannot determine,” replied the engineer, “but the indications are for a land in the Pacific. In fact when we left Richmond the wind blew from the northeast and its violence even proves that its direction should not have varied. If this direction was maintained from northeast to southwest we crossed the states of North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, the Gulf of Mexico, Mexico itself in its narrow part, then a portion of the Pacific Ocean. I estimate that the distance covered by the balloon was not less than six to seven thousand miles. If the wind varied by as little as an eighth it would have carried us either to the archipelago of Marquesas or to the Tuamotu, and if it had a much larger speed than I suppose, even to New Zealand. If this latter hypothesis is the case our return home will be easy. English or Maoris, we will always find someone to speak to. If, on the contrary, this shore is a part of some deserted island of a micronesian archipelago, perhaps we will recognize this from the top of the cone which overlooks this land, then we will plan on establishing ourselves here as if we will never leave it!”

“Never,” cried the reporter. “You say never, my dear Cyrus.”

“Better to first put things in the worst,” replied the engineer, “and save the surprise for the better.”

“Well spoken,” said Pencroff, “and it is also to be hoped that this island, if it is one, will not be exactly situated outside the ship lanes. That would really be a run of bad luck.”

“We will know what we have to contend with after we have first climbed the mountain,” replied the engineer.

“But tomorrow, Mister Cyrus,” asked Herbert, “will you be strong enough to make this climb?”

“I hope so,” responded the engineer, “but on the condition that Master Pencroff and you, my boy, show yourselves to be intelligent and skillful hunters.”

“Mister Cyrus,” replied the sailor, “since you are speaking of game, if, on my return, I was as certain of being able to roast it as I am of bringing it back...”

“Bring it back all the same, Pencroff,” responded Cyrus Smith.

It was thus agreed that the engineer and the reporter would spend the day at the Chimneys in order to examine the shore and the upper plateau. During this time Neb, Herbert and the sailor would return to the forest, there to renew the stockpile of wood and to lay hands on all beasts with feathers or hair that would come within their reach.

They then left about ten o’clock in the morning, Herbert confident, Neb joyful and Pencroff mumbling to himself:

“If, on my return home I find fire, I’ll believe that thunder came in person to light it.”

All three went up the bank and arrived at the bend formed by the river. The sailor stopped and said to his companions:

“Shall we begin by being hunters or woodsmen?”

“Hunters,” responded Herbert. “Top is already on the hunt.”

“Hunters then,” replied the sailor. “Then we will return here to renew our stockpile of wood.”

That said, Herbert, Neb and Pencroff, after having torn off three sticks from the trunk of a young fir tree, followed Top who dashed in among the tall grass.

This time the hunters, instead of walking along the rivercourse, plunged directly into the depths of the forest. It was always the same trees belonging for the most part to the pine family. In certain less crowded areas, isolated in clusters, these pines were very large and seemed to indicate by their development that this country was at a higher latitude than that conjectured by the engineer. Some clearings, bristling with stumps rotted by time, were covered with dead wood, and formed an inexhaustible reserve of fuel. Then, the clearing past, the brushwood grew closer and became almost impenetrable.

Without a beaten path it was rather difficult to find their way among these massive trees. Thus from time to time the sailor marked out his route by breaking some boughs that would be easy to recognize. But perhaps they were wrong not to have followed the water’s course as Herbert and he had done during their first excursion because after an hour’s march they still had no game to show. Top, moving under low branches, only gave warning of birds they could not get near. The couroucous themselves were absolutely invisible and it was likely that the sailor would be forced to return to that marshy part of the forest in which he had so fortunately used his fishing line against the grouse.

“Well, Pencroff,” said Neb in a slightly sarcastic tone of voice, “if this is all the game that you have promised to bring back to my master it will not take a big fire to roast it.”

“Patience, Neb,” responded the sailor, “it will not be the game that will be missing upon our return.”

“Have you no confidence in Mister Smith?”

“Certainly.”

“But you do not believe that he will make a fire?”

“I will believe it when the wood is burning on the hearth.”

“It will burn since my master has said so.”

“We shall see.”

However, the sun had not yet attained its highest point in its course above the horizon. The exploration therefore continued and was marked by a useful discovery, made by Herbert, of a tree whose fruit is edible. It was the pine kernel which produces an excellent almond, highly esteemed in the temperate regions of America and of Europe. These almonds were perfectly ripe and Herbert pointed this out to his two companions who were delighted by it.

“Well,” said Pencroff, “we have algae to take the place of bread, mussels for meat, and almonds for desert, what a meal for people who don’t have a single match in their pocket.”

“It’s no use complaining,” replied Herbert.

“I do not complain, my boy” said Pencroff. “Only I repeat that meat is too much economized in this type of meal.”

“Top has seen something!...” shouted Neb, who ran toward a thicket in which the dog had disappeared while barking. With Top’s barks were mingled some peculiar growls.

The sailor and Herbert followed Neb. If they had some game here this was not the time to discuss how to cook it but how to capture it.

The hunters had hardly entered the thicket when they saw Top holding an animal by an ear. This quadruped was a kind of pig about two and a half feet long, blackish brown but not as dark on the underside, having tough but thin hair. The animal’s toes, which were then gripping the ground, seemed to be united by membranes. Herbert thought he recognized this animal as a capybara, that is to say one of the largest rodents.

The hunters saw Top holding...

However, the capybara was not struggling with the dog. It stupidly rolled its large eyes which were deeply imbedded in a thick layer of fat. Perhaps it saw men for the first time.

However Neb, holding his stick firmly in his hand, went to kill the rodent when the latter, being held only by the tip of his ear, tore himself away from Top’s teeth, gave a hearty grunt, plunged headlong on Herbert, threw him half over, and disappeared through the woods.

“The rascal!” cried Pencroff.

Immediately all three darted after Top and at the moment when they rejoined him, the animal disappeared under the waters of a large pond shaded by some large old pines.

Neb, Herbert and Pencroff stopped, immobile. Top threw himself into the water but the capybara, lying at the bottom of the pond, was no longer visible.

“Let us wait,” said the lad, “because he will soon come to the surface to breath.”

“Won’t he drown?” asked Neb.

“No,” replied Herbert, “since his feet are webbed and it is almost an amphibian. But watch for him.”

Top continued to swim. Pencroff and his two companions each occupied a different point on the bank in order to cut off all retreat for the capybara which the dog was looking for while swimming on the surface of the pond.

Herbert was not mistaken. After a few minutes the animal emerged above the waters. Top was after him in a bound and prevented him from plunging again. An instant later the capybara, dragged to the bank, was killed by a blow from Neb’s stick.

“Hurrah!” cried Pencroff, who gladly used this cry of triumph. “If we could only get a hot fire this rodent will be gnawed to the bone.”

Pencroff loaded the capybara on his shoulder and judging by the height of the sun that it was about two o’clock, he gave the signal to return.

Top’s instinct was not useless to the hunters who, thanks to the intelligent animal, were able to find the road already traveled on. A half hour later they arrived at the bend in the river.

As he had done the first time, Pencroff quickly made a raft of wood, even though for want of a fire it seemed like a useless task, and with the raft moving downstream, they returned to the Chimneys.

But the sailor had not gone fifty steps when he stopped, let out a new formidable hurrah, and pointing to the corner of the cliff:

“Herbert! Neb! Look!” he shouted.

“Herbert! Neb! Look!” shouted Pencroff.

Smoke was escaping and twirling above the rocks!

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Castaways from the Sky

Chapter X

The engineer's invention—The question that preoccupies Cyrus Smith—The departure for the mountain—The forest—Volcanic soil—Tragopans—Wild sheep—The first plateau—The encampment for the night—The summit of the cone.

SEVERAL moments later the three hunters found themselves in front of a crackling hearth. Cyrus Smith and the reporter were there. Pencroff looked from one to the other without saying a word, his capybara in hand.

“Yes indeed, my good fellow,” cried the reporter. “Fire, real fire, that will perfectly roast this magnificent game which we will feast on within the hour.”

“But who kindled it?...” asked Pencroff.

“The sun!”

Gideon Spilett’s response was precise. It was the sun which had furnished the heat that had astonished Pencroff. The sailor could not believe his eyes and he was so amazed that he did not think of questioning the engineer.

“You had a lens, sir?” Herbert asked Cyrus Smith.

“No, my child,” he replied, “but I made one.”

And he showed the apparatus that had served him as a lens. It was simply two glasses that he had lifted from the watch of the reporter and of his own. After having filled them with water and made their edges adherent by means of a little clay, he had thus fabricated a real lens which, concentrating the sun’s rays on some very dry moss, produced combustion.

The sailor examined the apparatus, then he looked at the engineer without saying a word except that his look spoke volumes. Yes, as far as he was concerned, if Cyrus Smith was not a god, he was assuredly more than a mere man. Finally speech returned and he shouted:

“Note that, Mister Spilett, note that in your book!”

“It is noted,” replied the reporter.

Then, with Neb helping, the sailor arranged the spit, and the capybara, properly dressed, was soon roasting like a simple suckling pig before a bright and sparkling flame.

The Chimneys once more became habitable, not only because the corridors were warmed by the fire from the hearth but because the partitions of stones and sand were re-established.

One could see that the engineer and his companion had employed their day well. Cyrus Smith had almost completely recovered his strength which he tested by climbing to the upper plateau. From this point his eye, accustomed to evaluate heights and distances, gazed for a while on this cone whose summit he wanted to reach on the next day. The mountain, situated about six miles to the northwest, appeared to him to measure three thousand five hundred feet above sea level. Consequently, the gaze of an observer posted at the summit would cover a radius of at least fifty miles. It was therefore probable that Cyrus Smith would easily resolve the question “continent or island” which he justifiably gave precedence over all other questions.

They supped in style. The cabybara meat was excellent. The seaweed and the pine kernel almonds completed the meal during which the engineer spoke little. He was preoccupied with the projects of the next day.

Once or twice Pencroff put forth some ideas about things it would be convenient to make, but Cyrus Smith, who evidently had a methodical mind, was content to shake his head.

“Tomorrow,” he repeated, “we will know what we have to contend with and we will act accordingly.”

The meal completed, some additional armfuls of wood were thrown on the fire and the hosts of the Chimneys, including the faithful Top, fell into a deep sleep. No incident disturbed this peaceful night and the next day, March 29th, fresh and hearty, they woke up ready to undertake this excursion which would fix their fate.

All was ready for the departure. The remains of the capybara would provide nourishment for Cyrus Smith and his companions for the next twenty four hours. Besides they hoped to revictual en route. Since the glasses were put back on the engineer’s and the reporter’s watches, Pencroff burnt a little linen to serve as tinder. As to flint, there would be no shortage of that on terrain that was of plutonic origin.

It was seven thirty in the morning when the explorers, armed with clubs, left the Chimneys. Following Pencroff’s advice it seemed best to take the road already used through the forest and to use another route on the return trip. It was also the most direct way to reach the mountain. They therefore turned the south corner and followed the left bank of the river which was abandoned at the point where it curved toward the southwest. The footpath, already frayed under the green trees, was found and at nine o’clock Cyrus Smith and his companions reached the western edge of the forest. The ground, which was not too hilly up to that point, marshy at first, dry and sandy later, betrayed a slight incline as one went from the coast to the interior. Several fleeing animals had been indistinctly seen in the forest. Top briskly cut them off, but his master recalled him at once because the time had not come to pursue them. Later they would see. The engineer was not a man to let himself be distracted from his intent. One would not even be mistaken in affirming that he did not observe the country, neither its configuration nor its natural productions. His only objective was this mountain which he aspired to climb and he went straight to it.

At ten o’clock they halted for a few minutes. On leaving the forest the mountain system of the country appeared before their eyes. The mountain was composed of two cones. The first, truncated at a height of approximately two thousand five hundred feet, was sustained by capricious spurs which seemed to spread out like immense claws gripping the ground. Between these spurs were narrow valleys, bristling with trees, the latter rising in clusters up to the truncation of the first cone. However, the vegetation seemed less abundant on the side of the mountain exposed to the northeast and they could see there the rather deep stripes made by flowing lava.

A second cone rested on the first cone, slightly rounded at the top, standing a bit askew. One could call it a large hat placed over an ear. It seemed to be formed of bare terrain with many reddish rocks showing.

It was the summit of the second cone that they agreed to reach and the ridge of the spurs offered the best way to get there.

“We are on volcanic terrain,” Cyrus Smith said, and his companions, following him, began to climb little by little up the back of a spur which, by a winding path and consequently an easier pathway, ended at the first plateau.

There were many swellings on the ground evidently made by plutonic convulsion. Erratic blocks, basaltic debris, pumice rocks and volcanic glass were all about. Several hundred feet below grew these conifers, in thick isolated clusters, at the bottom of narrow gorges scarcely reached by the sun’s rays.

During the first part of this ascension on the lower ramps, Herbert noted prints which indicated the recent passage of large animals, wild or otherwise.

“Perhaps these beasts will not be willing to relinquish their domain to us,” said Pencroff.

“Well,” replied the reporter, who had already hunted the tiger in India and the lion in Africa, “we will see about getting rid of them but in the meantime let us be careful.”

They gradually went higher. The route was long because it was lengthened by detours and obstacles that they could not cross directly. Also at times the ground was suddenly hollow and they found themselves at the edge of deep crevices that they had to go round. They thus had to retrace their steps in order to follow some practical path, which took time and energy. At noon, when the small troupe halted for lunch at the foot of a large cluster of spruce trees near a brook that fell in a cascade, they found themselves still only half way to the first plateau, which they would not reach till nightfall.

At this height the sea’s horizon was very enlarged, but on the right the view was interrupted by a sharp promontory in the southeast and they could not determine whether the coastline was abruptly connected to some rear terrain. At the left the line of sight extended several miles to the north; nevertheless from the northwest, at the point occupied by the explorers, it was interrupted by a ridge of a bizarre buttress formed from the powerful abutment of the central cone. Hence they still could not answer the question that Cyrus Smith wanted to resolve.

At one o’clock the climb was resumed. It was necessary to shift to the southwest and once again move through rather thick brushwood. There under the cover of the trees, flew several couples of gallinules of the pheasant family. They were “tragopans” adorned by fleshy wattles which hang from their throats and by two slender cylindrical horns set behind their eyes. Among these couples, which are the size of a rooster, the female is uniformly brown while the male glitters in his red plummage sprinkled with small white teardrop shapes. Gideon Spilett with a stone thrown skillfully and vigorously, killed one of these tragopans that Pencroff, famished by the open air, could not look at without some covetousness.

Upon leaving the brushwood the climbers pushed each other leg up, struggling on a very steep hundred foot slope to reach a higher level composed of volcanic ground with few trees. They then went toward the east once more moving on a winding path which made the very steep slopes more practical. Everyone had to carefully choose the spot where he placed his foot. Neb and Herbert were in front, Pencroff was in the rear and Cyrus and the reporter were between them. The animals which frequented these heights—and there was no lack of their traces—necessarily belonged to those species of sure foot and supple backbone, the chamois and the izards. They saw several of them but this was not the name that Pencroff gave them because in a moment:

“Sheep!” he shouted.

The climbers pushed each other leg up...

Everyone stopped fifty feet from a half dozen of these large animals with strong horns curving rearward and flat at the tip and with woolen fleece hidden under long silky buff colored hair. They were not ordinary sheep but a species generally found in the mountainous regions of the temperate zones which Herbert gave the name of mouflons.

“Do they have legs and chops?” asked the sailor.

“Yes,” replied Herbert.

“Well, then they are sheep,” said Pencroff.

These animals stood still among the basaltic debris looking astonished as if they saw biped humans for the first time. Then their fear suddenly awakened and they disappeared in a bound among the rocks.

“Au revoir,” Pencroff shouted in a tone so comic that Cyrus Smith, Gideon Spilett, Herbert and Neb could not refrain from laughing.

The climb continued. They frequently noted, on certain declivities, traces of very capriciously scored lava. They had to go around small volcanic areas of hot sulphur vapors which sometimes cut across the route followed by the climbers. In several places sulphur was present in crystalline form, among material that was generally there before the lava flows, material such as pozzuolanas in irregular pellets, and highly torrefied white cinders made by an infinity of small feldspar crystals.

On the approaches to the first plateau, formed by the truncation of the lower cone, the difficulties of climbing were very pronounced. Around four o’clock the last zone of trees had been passed. There only remained, here and there, some emaciated pines which had a hard life in resisting the strong open winds at this height. Fortunately for the engineer and his companions, the weather was magnificent and the atmosphere tranquil because a strong breeze at an altitude of three thousand feet would have affected their balance. The purity of the sky at the zenith was felt through the transparent air. Perfect calm reigned around them. They could no longer see the sun, then covered by the vast shade of the upper cone, which masked the western horizon. This enormous shadow, reaching to the shore, would lengthen as the radiant luminary went lower in it daily course. Several wisps of haze rather than clouds began to rise in the east colored by all the colors of the spectrum under the action of the solar rays.

Only five hundred feet then separated the explorers from the plateau that they wished to attain in order to establish camp for the night but these five hundred feet were increased to more than two thousand by the zigzags that they had to follow. The ground, as has been said, was hollow underfoot. The slope was so steep that they slipped on the lava when the ridges, worn by the wind, did not offer sufficient support. Evening came on little by little and it was almost night when Cyrus Smith and his companions, very tired from a climb of seven hours, reached the plateau of the first cone. It was then a question of organizing a camp and of recuperating by eating first and sleeping afterwards. The second stage of the mountain rose on a base of rocks among which they would easily find a retreat. Fuel was not abundant. However they could obtain fire by means of moss and dry brushwood which grew on certain portions of the plateau. While the sailor made his fireplace on rocks which he arranged for this purpose, Neb and Herbert occupied themselves with gathering fuel. They soon returned with a load of brushwood. The flint was struck, the burnt linen caught the sparks of the flint and with Neb blowing, a crackling fire developed in a few moments sheltered by the rocks.

The fire was only intended to withstand the temperature which was a little cold for the night. It was not used to roast the pheasant which Neb saved for the next day. The rest of the capybara and a few dozen almonds of the pine kernel formed the elements of supper. It was not more than six thirty when everything was finished.

Cyrus Smith then thought of exploring, in the semi-obscurity, this large circular foundation which supported the upper cone of the mountain. Before taking some rest he wanted to know if this cone could be turned at its base because if its flanks were too steep it would render the summit inaccessible. This question did not cease to preoccupy him because it was possible that on the side toward which the hat inclined, that is to say toward the north, the plateau was not practical. Now, on the one hand, if they could not reach the summit of the mountain, and if on the other hand they could not go round the base of the cone then it would be impossible to examine the western portion of the country and the purpose of the climb would be in part unfulfilled.

Then the engineer, without taking account of his fatigue, leaving Pencroff and Neb to organize the sleeping arrangements and Gideon Spilett to note the incidents of the day, began to follow the circular border of the plateau going northward. Herbert accompanied him.

The night was fine and tranquil and not yet fully dark. Cyrus Smith and the lad walked near each other without speaking. In certain places the plateau was wide and they passed without difficulty. Other places, obstructed by debris, offered only a narrow path such that two people could not walk abreast. After a march of twenty minutes Cyrus Smith and Herbert had to stop. From this point on the slopes of the two cones were flush. No shoulder separated the two parts of the mountain. A slope of nearly 70° made it impractical.

But if the engineer and the lad had to turn away from following a circular route, in compensation there was the possibility that they could ascend the cone directly.

In fact there was before them a deep opening in the solid block. It was the flare of the upper crater, the outlet so to speak, by which liquid eruptive material escaped at a time when the volcano was still active. The hardened lava and the encrusted slag formed a sort of natural staircase well designed for a climb, which would facilitate access to the summit of the mountain.

A glance sufficed for Cyrus Smith to recognize the situation and without hesitating and followed by the lad he entered the enormous crevice in the midst of the growing darkness.

There was still a height of a thousand feet to climb. Would the inclines of the interior of the crater be practical? They would see. The engineer would continue his climb as long as he could. Fortunately the incline was gradual and winding, describing a large helical path along the interior of the volcano and favoring the upward march.

As to the volcano itself, there was no doubt that it was completely extinct. No smoke escaped from its bowels. No flame revealed itself in the deep cavities. Not a growl, nor a murmur, nor a disturbance left its obscure pits which perhaps extended to the bowels of the earth. Even the atmosphere within the crater was not saturated with any sulphurous vapor. It was not merely the slumber of a volcano. It was its complete extinction.

Cyrus Smith’s attempt would succeed. Little by little Herbert and he, ascending the inner walls, saw the crater enlarge above their heads. The radius of this circular portion of the sky, surrounded by the borders of the cone, was getting noticeably larger. With each step, so to speak, that Cyrus Smith and Herbert made, new stars were entering their field of view. The magnificent constellations of the southern sky were shining brightly. At zenith the splendid Antares of Scorpio was sparkling with a pure glare and not far away was the β of Centaurus which is thought to be the nearest star to the terrestial globe. Then as they went higher, Fomalhaut of the Southern Fish appeared, the Southern Triangle and finally near the southern pole of the sky, the sparkling Southern Cross which takes the place of the pole star of the northern hemisphere.

As they went higher...

It was nearly eight o’clock when Cyrus Smith and Herbert set foot on the upper crest of the mountain, the summit of the cone.

It was then completely dark and they could not see for more than two miles. Did the sea completely surround this unknown land or was this land attached in the west to some continent of the Pacific? They still could not tell. Toward the west clouds were clearly delineated by the horizon adding to the darkness and the eye could not distinguish the confusion of the sky and water on this circular line.

But at one point of this horizon a vague light suddenly appeared slowly descending as the clouds rose to the zenith.

It was the slender crescent of the moon about to set. But its light was sufficient to clearly show the horizon then detached from a cloud and the engineer was able to see its trembling image reflected for a moment on the liquid surface.

Cyrus Smith seized the lad’s hand and in a solemn voice:

“An island!” he said at the moment when the light of the lunar crescent was extinguished by the waves.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Castaways from the Sky

Chapter XI

At the summit of the cone—The interior of the crater—The sea all around—No land in sight—Bird's eye view of the shore—Hydrography and orography—Is the island inhabited?—Naming the bays, gulfs, capes, rivers, etc.—Lincoln Island.

A HALF hour later Cyrus Smith and Herbert returned to the camp. The engineer merely told his companions that the land on which chance had thrown them was an island and that the next day they would consult. Then each made the best sleeping arrangement he could, and in this cavity of basalt at a height of two thousand five hundred feet above sea level the “islanders” enjoyed a deep sleep on a peaceful night.

The next day, March 30th, after a quick breakfast in which the roasted tragopan was the only dish, the engineer wanted to ascend to the summit of the volcano in order to carefully observe the island on which he and his friends would be imprisoned for life perhaps if this island was situated far from all land or if it was not near the lanes of ships visiting the archipelagos of the Pacific Ocean. This time his companions would follow him in this new exploration. They too wanted to see this island which they would ask to supply all their needs.

It was about seven o’clock in the morning when Cyrus Smith, Herbert, Pencroff, Gideon Spilett and Neb broke camp. No one appeared uneasy about their situation. They doubtless had faith in themselves but it should be noted that the basis of this faith was not the same in Cyrus Smith as in his companions. The engineer had confidence because he felt capable of wresting from this savage nature all that would be necessary for the life of his companions and his own and they feared nothing precisely because Cyrus Smith was with them. They realized this difference. Pencroff, especially since the incident of the rekindled fire, would not despair for an instant even if he found himself on a bare rock if the engineer was with him on this rock.

“Bah!” he said. “We left Richmond without the permission of the authorities! It would be a hell of a thing if sooner or later we did not succeed in leaving a place where no one will certainly detain us.”

Cyrus Smith followed the same path as the day before. They went around the cone by the plateau which formed the shoulder up to the opening of the enormous crevice. The weather was magnificent. The sun rose in a pure sky and its rays enveloped the entire eastern side of the mountain.

They reached the crater. It was just as the engineer had recognized it in the darkness, that is to say a vast crater that extended to a height of a thousand feet above the plateau. From the base of the crevice, broad thick flows of lava had meandered over the sides of the mountain thus marking out the route of the eruptive material into the lower valleys which criss-crossed the northern portion of the island.

The interior of the crater, whose inclination was not more than thirty five to forty degrees, presented no difficulties nor obstacles to climbing. They saw traces of very old lava which probably poured out at the summit of the cone before this lateral crevice opened a new route.

As to the volcanic chimney which established communication between the subterranean levels and the crater, they could not estimate its depth by looking at it since it was lost in obscurity. But there was no doubt about the complete extinction of the volcano.

Before eight o’clock Cyrus Smith and his companions were gathered at the summit of the crater on a conical swelling which puffed up the northern rim.

“The sea! The sea everywhere!” they cried as if their lips could not hold back this word that made islanders of them.

In fact the sea was an immense circular expanse around them. Perhaps on climbing to the summit of the cone Cyrus Smith had hoped to discover some coast, some neighboring island, which he had not been able to see the previous evening in the darkness. But nothing appeared within the limits of the horizon that is to say for a radius of over fifty miles. No land in sight. Not a sail. All this immensity was deserted and the island occupied the center of a circumference that seemed to be infinite.

The engineer and his companions, speechless, immobile, looked over all the points of the ocean for several minutes. Their eyes examined this ocean to its most extreme limits. But Pencroff, who possessed a marvellous power of vision, saw nothing, and certainly if land was lying on the horizon, even if it appeared as an imperceptible vapor, the sailor would undoubtedly recognize it because nature had truly placed two telescopes under his eyebrows.

After the ocean their attention was fixed on the island which they could see in its entirety and the first question was asked by Gideon Spilett in these terms:

“About how large is this island?”

Truly it did not appear to be considerable in the midst of this immense ocean.

Cyrus Smith reflected for several moments. He looked all around the island taking into account the height at which they were situated; then:

“My friends,” he said, “I believe I am not mistaken in giving the shoreline of the island a perimeter of more than one hundred miles.” [1]

“And consequently, its area?”

“That is difficult to estimate,” replied the engineer, “because it is so capriciously indented.”

If Cyrus Smith was not mistaken in his evaluation, the island was nearly as large as Malta or Zakynthos in the Mediterranian; but at the same time it was much more irregular and less rich in capes, promontories, points, bays, coves, or creeks. Its truly strange form surprised them, and when Gideon Spilett sketched its contours at the engineer’s suggestion they found that it resembled some fantastic animal, a sort of monstrous pteropoda which was sleeping on the surface of the Pacific.

This was in fact the exact configuration of the island which is important to know. Its map was immediately drawn by the reporter with sufficient precision.

The portion of the coast on which the castaways had landed was curved on a large arc and bordered by a vast bay terminated in the southeast by a sharp cape which was a point hidden from Pencroff at the time of his first exploration. In the northeast two other capes closed the bay and between them a narrow gulf was hollowed out which resembled the half opened jaw of some formidable shark.

From the northeast to the northwest the coast was rounded like the flattened skull of a wild beast rising in a sort of protuberance which did not assign any very definite plan to this part of the island whose center was occupied by the volcanic mountain.

From this point on, the coastline was somewhat regular north and south cut at two thirds of its length by a narrow creek, beyond which it ended in a long tail resembling the caudal appendage of a gigantic alligator.

This tail formed a true peninsula which extended for more than thirty miles into the sea, counting from the southeast cape of the island, already mentioned. It was rounded, describing an open roadstead which characterized the lower shore of this strangely cut out land.

In it smallest width, that is to say between the Chimneys and the creek observed on the western coast which corresponded to it in latitude, the island measured only ten miles, but its greatest length, from the jaw of the northeast to the extremity of the tail in the southwest, came to not less than thirty miles.

As to the interior of the island its general aspect was thus: very wooded in all of its southern portion from the mountain up to the shore and dry and sandy in its northern part. Between the volcano and the east coast Cyrus Smith and his companions were rather surprised to see a lake, bordered by green trees, whose existence they had not suspected. Seen from this height the lake seemed to be at the same level as the sea but on reflection the engineer explained to his companions that the altitude of this small expanse of water must be three hundred feet because the plateau which served as its basin was that high above the coast.

“Does this lake have sweet water?” asked Pencroff.

“Necessarily,” replied the engineer, “because it must be fed by waters which flow from the mountain.”

“I see a small brook which flows into it,” said Herbert, pointing to a narrow creek whose source must flow from the buttresses in the west.

“I see a small brook”, said Herbert.

“In fact,” replied Cyrus Smith, “since this stream feeds the lake it is probable that there exists an outlet at the sea side by which the overflow of water escapes. We will see this on our return.”

This rather winding watercourse and the river already noted, such was the hydrographic system, such at least was developed before the eyes of the explorers. However it was possible that under these masses of trees of the immense forest which made up two thirds of the island, other streams flowed toward the sea. They must even assume it since this fertile and rich region showed the most magnificent specimens of the vegetation of the temperate zones. As to the northern part, there was no indication of flowing water: perhaps some stagnant water in the marshy portions of the northeast but that was all; in sum there were dunes, sand and a very pronounced aridity which vividly contrasted with the opulence of the soil of its larger section.

The volcano did not occupy the central part of the island. It stood, on the contrary, in the northwest region and seemed to mark the boundary between the two zones. Toward the southwest, the south and the southeast, the lower levels of the buttresses disappeared under the masses of vegetation. In the north, on the contrary, one could follow their ramifications which eventually faded into the plains of sand. It was also on this coast, during the time of the eruptions, that the discharges had opened up a passage and one broad path of lava extended to this narrow jaw which formed a gulf in the northeast.

Cyrus Smith and his companions remained thus for a hour on the summit of the mountain. The island developed under their eyes like a plan in relief with various tints, greens for the forests, yellows for the sands, blues for the waters. They saw it in its entirety. The ground hidden under the immense vegetation, the bottom of the shaded valleys, the interior of the narrow sunken gorges which extended to the foot of the volcano, these alone escaped their investigation.

One serious question remained to answer which would singularly influence the future of the castaways.

Was the island inhabited?

It was the reporter who posed this question to which it seemed that they could already give a negative response after a minute examination which they made of the diverse regions of the island.

Nowhere could they perceive the work of the human hand. No conglomeration of cabins, not an isolated hut, not a fishery on the shore. No fire rose to betray the presence of man. It is true that a distance of approximately thirty miles separated the observers from the extreme points that is to say from this tail which projected to the southwest and it would be difficult even for Pencroff’s eyes to discover a habitation there. Neither could they lift up the screen of verdure which covered three quarters of the island to see if it did or did not hide some village. But generally the islanders of these narrow spaces that emerge from the Pacific inhabit, for the most part, the shore and the shore appeared to be absolutely deserted.

Until a more complete exploration they would have to admit that the island was uninhabited.

But was it frequented, at least temporarily, by the natives from the neighboring islands? It was difficult to reply to this question. No land appeared within a radius of approximately fifty miles. But fifty miles could easily be crossed, either by Malaysian proas or by large Polynesian canoes. All depended on the position of the island, its isolation in the Pacific, and its proximity to the archipelagos. Would Cyrus Smith be able later to determine their latitude and longitude without instruments? That would be difficult. It would be best to take certain precautions against a possible visit from neighboring natives.

The exploration of the island was complete, its configuration determined, its outline noted, its area calculated, its hydrography and orography recognized. The disposition of the forests and the plains were drawn in a general way by the reporter. There was nothing to do but to descend the slopes of the mountain and to explore the ground with the triple point of view of noting its mineral, vegetable and animal resources.

But before giving his companions the signal to depart, Cyrus Smith said to them in a calm and serious voice:

“Here, my friends, is the small corner of the world on which the hand of the Almighty has thrown us. It is here that we are going to live a long time perhaps. Perhaps also unexpected help will arrive if some vessel passes by chance... I say by chance because this island is not very important. It offers nothing which can serve as a port of call for ships, and it is to be feared that it is situated outside the ordinary shiplanes, that is to say that it is too far to the south for the vessels which frequent the archipelagos of the Pacific, too far north for those that go to Australia by doubling Cape Horn. I wish to conceal nothing from you.”

“And you are right, my dear Cyrus,” the reporter replied vividly. “You are dealing with men. They have confidence in you and you can count on them. Isn’t that so, my friends?”

“I will obey you in everything, Mister Cyrus,” said Herbert who seized the engineer’s hand.

“My master, always and everywhere!” cried Neb.

“As to me,” said the sailor, “may I lose my name if I sulk at my work, and if you wish it, Mister Smith, we will make this island a Little America. We will build towns, we will establish railroads here, we will install telegraphs and one fine day when it will be transformed and civilized we will offer it to the government of the Union! Only I ask one thing.”

“What is that?” asked the reporter.

“That we no longer think of ourselves as castaways but as colonists coming here to colonize.”

Cyrus Smith could not restrain a smile and the sailor’s motion was adopted. Then he thanked his companions and added that he counted on their energy and on the blessing of Heaven.

“Well then, on to the Chimneys!” cried Pencroff.

“One moment, my friends,” replied the engineer. “It seems best to me to give a name to this island, also to its capes, to its promontories and to the watercourses that we have seen below.”

“Very good,” said the reporter. “In the future this will simplify the instructions that we will have to give or to follow.”

“In fact,” replied the sailor, “it is already something to be able to say where one has been and where one is going. At least one has the feeling of having been somewhere.”

“The Chimneys, for example,” said Herbert.

“Right!” replied Pencroff. “This name, which has already been very convenient, came to me all alone. Shall we keep this name of the Chimneys for our first encampment, Mister Cyrus?”

“Yes, Pencroff, since you have so baptized it.”

“Good! As to the others, that will be easy,” replied the sailor, who was in good spirits. “Let us use names like the Robinsons did. Herbert has read their story to me more than once; ‘Providence Bay,’ ‘Cachalots Point,’ ‘Cape of Deceived Hope’.”

“Or rather the names of Mister Smith,” replied Herbert, “of Mister Spilett, of Neb!...”

“My name!” cried Neb, showing his sparkling white teeth.

“Why not?” replied Pencroff. “‘Port Neb’ would be very good. And ‘Cape Gideon.’”

“I would prefer names borrowed from our country” replied the reporter, “which would remind us of America.”

“Yes, for the main features,” Cyrus Smith then said, “for those of the bays or the seas, I readily grant it. We could give to this vast bay in the east the name Union Bay for example, to this large indentation in the south that of Washington Bay, to the mountain on which we are now standing that of Mount Franklin, to the lake which extends beneath us that of Lake Grant, nothing could be better my friends. These names will remind us of our country and those great citizens who have honored it, but for the rivers, the gulfs, the capes and the promontories which we perceive from the top of this mountain, let us choose names which will rather recall their particular configuration. It will make a deeper impression on us and it will be practical at the same time. The shape of the island is sufficiently strange so that we will have no difficulty in imagining names which recall it. As to the watercourses that we do not know, the various parts of the forest that we will explore later, the creeks that will be discovered in due time, we will name that when they present themselves to us. What do you think, my friends?”

The engineer’s proposition was unanimously adopted by his companions. The island was there under their eyes like an open map, and they had only to specify names for all its features. Gideon Spilett would draw it to scale and the geographical nomenclature of the island would be formally adopted.

Gideon Spilett would draw it to scale.

First they named Union Bay, Washington Bay, and Mount Franklin, for the two bays and the mountain as the engineer had done.

“Now,” said the reporter, “this peninsula which projects to the southwest of the island, I propose to give it the name of Serpentine Peninsula, and the name Reptile End to the curved tail at its end because it is truly a reptile’s tail.”

“Adopted,” said the engineer.

“Now,” said Herbert, “for this other extremity of the island, this gulf which so singularly resembles an open jaw, let us call it Shark Gulf.”

“Well done!” cried Pencroff, “and we will complete the picture by giving the two parts of the jaw the name Mandible Cape.”

“But there are two capes,” the reporter observed.

“Well then,” replied Pencroff, “we will have North Mandible Cape and South Mandible Cape.”

“They are inscribed,” replied Gideon Spilett.

“It remains to name the point at the southeast extremity of the island,” said Pencroff.

“That is to say the extremity of Union Bay?” replied Herbert.

“Cape Claw,” Neb cried out at once. He also wanted to be the godfather of some piece of his domain.

And in truth Neb had found an excellent name because this cape truly represented the powerful claw of the fantastic animal which resembled the outline of the island.

Pencroff was enchanted by the turn of events. Their somewhat overexcited imaginations soon had given:

To the river which furnished fresh water to the colonists near where the balloon had thrown them, the name of the Mercy, a true thanks to Providence;

To the islet on which the castaways had first set foot, the name of Safety Island;

To the plateau which crowned the high wall of granite above the Chimneys and from where they could see all of the vast bay, the name Grand View Plateau;

Finally to all of this massive impenetrable woods which covered Serpentine Peninsula, the name of Forests of the Far West.

The nomenclature of the visible and known parts of the island was thus finished and later they would complete it with new discoveries as they went along.

As to the orientation of the island the engineer had determined it approximately by the height and the position of the sun which put Union Bay and all of Grand View Plateau to the east. But the next day by taking the exact time of sunrise and sunset and by determining the sun’s position at the midpoint between sunrise and sunset he would exactly fix the north of the island. Because they were located in the southern hemisphere the sun, at the precise moment of reaching its highest point, would pass to the north and not to the south in its apparent movement as it seems to do in places situated in the northern hemisphere.

Everything was finished and the colonists had only to climb down Mount Franklin to return to the Chimneys when Pencroff exclaimed:

“What dopes we are!”

“Why do you say that?” asked Gideon Spilett, who had closed his notebook and was getting up to leave.

“What about our island? We have forgotten to name it.”

Herbert was going to propose to give it the engineer’s name and all his companions would have applauded it when Cyrus Smith simply said:

“Let us name it after a great citizen, my friends, who now fights to defend the unity of the American republic. Let us call it Lincoln Island.”

Three hurrahs was the response made to the engineer’s proposition.

And that evening, before going to sleep, the new colonists spoke of the country they missed; they spoke of this terrible war which was staining it with blood; they could not doubt that the South would soon be subdued and that the cause of the North, the cause of justice could only triumph thanks to Grant, thanks to Lincoln.

So passed the 30th of March 1865. They could scarcely know that sixteen days later a horrible crime would be committed in Washington and that on Good Friday Abraham Lincoln would be murdered by a fanatic.

1. About 45 leagues of 4 kilometers per league.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Castaways from the Sky

Chapter XII

Setting the watches—Pencroff is satisfied—A suspicious smoke—The course of Red Creek—The flora of Lincoln Island—The fauna—Mountain pheasants—Pursuing kangaroos—Agouti—Lake Grant—Return to the chimneys.

THE colonists of Lincoln Island cast one last glance around them, they went around the crater by its narrow ridge and a half hour later they had climbed down to the first plateau to their night camp.

Pencroff thought that it was mealtime and for this purpose he raised the question of adjusting the two watches belonging to Cyrus Smith and the reporter.

We know that Gideon Spilett’s watch had been respected by the sea water since the reporter had been thrown on the beach from the first, out of the reach of the waves. It was an instrument kept in excellent condition, a real pocket chronometer which Gideon Spilett had never forgotten to wind carefully each day.

As to the engineer’s watch, it had necessarily stopped during the time that Cyrus Smith had passed on the dunes.

The engineer reset it, estimating approximately from the height of the sun that it was about nine o’clock in the morning. He set his watch to this hour.

Gideon Spilett was about to imitate him when the engineer held him back saying:

“No, my dear Spilett, wait. You have kept the time of Richmond, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Cyrus.”

“Consequently your watch is set to the meridian of that city, a meridian which is very nearly that of Washington?”

“No doubt.”

“Very well, then keep the setting. Remain content to wind it carefully but do not touch the hands. This will be useful to us.”

“What good will that be?” thought the sailor.

They ate so well that the supply of game and almonds was completely exhausted. But Pencroff was not uneasy. They would reprovision en route. Top, whose portion was very meager, would well know how to find some new game under the cover of the brushwood. Later the sailor intended to ask the engineer in all innocence to make powder and one or two hunting guns and he thought that this would present no difficulty.

On leaving the plateau Cyrus Smith proposed to his companions that they take a new road to return to the Chimneys. He wanted to explore Lake Grant which was so magnificently surrounded by a border of trees. They followed the crest of one of the buttresses where the creek [1] that fed the lake probably found its source. While chatting, the colonists were already using the proper names that they had chosen and this singularly facilitated the exchange of ideas. Herbert and Pencroff—the one young and the other like a small child—were enchanted and while walking the sailor said:

“Hey, Herbert, how things are coming along! We can’t possibly get lost, my boy, since whether we follow the road to Lake Grant or we rejoin the Mercy by crossing the woods of the Far West we will necessarily arrive at Grand View Plateau and consequently at Union Bay.”

It had been agreed that, without forming a compact group, the colonists would not wander far from each other. Very certainly some dangerous animals inhabited the thick forests of the island and it would be prudent to be on their guard. As a rule, Pencroff, Herbert and Neb went on ahead, preceded by Top who nuzzled into the slightest corner. The reporter and the engineer went together. Gideon Spilett was ready to record every incident. The engineer was silent most of the time, wandering from the road only to pick up sometimes one, sometimes another mineral or vegetable substance which he put in his pocket without making any comment.

Pencroff went on ahead, preceded by Top.

“What the devil can he be picking up?” murmured Pencroff. “I have looked carefully and I don’t see anything worth bending over for.”

About ten o’clock the small troop descended the last slopes of Mount Franklin. The soil was still scattered with only bushes and some sparse trees. They walked on yellowish calcinated ground forming a plain about a mile long which preceded the border of the woods. Some large sections of basalt which, according to Bischof, require three hundred fifty million years to cool, were strewn on the plain, very broken up in places. However there were no traces of lava which had especially poured out on the northern slopes.

Cyrus Smith believed that he could reach the creek’s course without incident which, according to him, would unfold under the trees at the edge of the plain, when he came headlong into Herbert, while Neb and the sailor were hiding behind some rocks.

“What is it, my boy?” asked Gideon Spilett.

“A smoke,” replied Herbert. “We have seen a smoke rising among the rocks about a hundred feet from us.”

“Men in this area?” cried the reporter.

“Let us avoid showing ourselves before we know with whom we are dealing,” replied Cyrus Smith. “I especially fear the natives if there are any of them on this island, which I do not wish for. Where is Top?”

“Top is up in front.”

“And he does not bark?”

“No.”

“That’s strange. Nevertheless, let us try to recall him.”

In a few moments the engineer, Gideon Spilett and Herbert had rejoined their two companions and like them they hid behind some basalt debris.

From there they could clearly see a smoke with a characteristic yellow color twirling into the air.

From there they could see a smoke...

Top was recalled by a weak whistle from his master who, making a sign to his companions to wait for him, glided among the rocks.

The colonists were immobile, waiting for the result of this exploration with a certain anxiety when a call from Cyrus Smith made them run up. They soon rejoined him and were all at once struck by a disagreeable odor which impregnated the atmosphere.

This easily recognized odor had sufficed for the engineer to guess at the identity of this smoke which at first had caused the anxiety, not without reason.

“This fire,” he said, “or rather this smoke is due only to nature’s efforts. It is due to a sulphuric spring which will permit us to effectively treat our laryngites.”

“Good,” cried Pencroff. “What a pity that I don’t have a cold.”

The colonists went to the spot where the smoke escaped. There they saw a sulphuric salt spring pouring out rather abundantly among the rocks. The water gave off a vivid sulphuric acid odor after having absorbed the oxygen from the air.

Cyrus Smith dipped his hand into it, finding these waters oily to the touch. He tasted it and found it to be a little sweet. As to its temperature he estimated it to be at 95° Fahrenheit (35° Centigrade above zero). And Herbert having asked him on what he based this evaluation:

“Very simple, my child,” he said, “because on plunging my hand into this water I felt no sensation of either hot or cold. Thus, it is the same temperature as the human body which is about 95°.”

Since the sulphuric spring was of no actual benefit, the colonists went toward the thick border of the forest which grew a few hundred feet away.

There, as they had guessed, the brisk clear waters of the stream ran between the high banks of red ground whose color revealed the presence of iron oxide. This color immediately gave to this watercourse the name of Red Creek.

It was only a large brook, deep and clear, formed by the waters of the mountain which half stream, half torrent, flowed peacefully here on a sand bed, rumbling over the tops of the rocks on which they fell in a cascade. It flowed toward the lake a mile and a half away, over a width varying from thirty to forty feet. Its waters were sweet which led them to believe that so also were the waters of the lake. This would be a happy circumstance in the event they should find a dwelling on its border more agreeable than the Chimneys.

As to the trees which shaded the banks of the creek a hundred feet downstream, they appeared for the most part to be of a species which are abundant in the temperate zone of Australia and of Tasmania and not those of the conifers which grew on that part of the island already explored a few miles from Grand View Plateau. At this time of the year, at the beginning of the month of April, which corresponds to the month of October in the northern hemisphere, that is to say at the start of autumn, the foliage is not yet missing. This was especially so with the casuarinas and the eucalyptus some of which would furnish next spring a sweet manna perfectly analogous to the manna of the orient. Some clusters of Australian cedars also grew in the clearings which were covered with a tall grass called “tussock” in Australia. However, the coconut which is so abundant in the archipelagos of the Pacific seemed to be missing on the island whose latitude was doubtless too low.

“What a pity” said Herbert, “a tree which is so useful and which has such beautiful nuts.”

As to the birds, they swarmed among the somewhat lean branches of the eucalyptus and the casuarinas which did not hide their wing displays. Black, white or grey cockatoos, parrots and parakeets with a plumage tinged with all colors, “kings” with a bright green crowned with red, blue loris and “blue mountains” gave a sight like looking through a prism. They flew amid a deafening clatter.

All at once a strange concert of discordant voices resounded from the midst of a thicket. The colonists heard successively the singing of birds, the cries of quadrupeds and a sort of clapping which they would have believed escaped from the lips of a native. Neb and Herbert ran toward this bush forgetting the most elementary principles of prudence. Very fortunately there was no formidable beast there nor a dangerous native but very simply a half dozen of these mocking and singing birds which they recognized as “mountain pheasants.” A few strokes of the stick, skillfully applied, terminated this scene of mimicking and also procured excellent game for the evening meal.

Herbert also pointed out some magnificent pigeons with bronze colored wings, some topped by a superb crest, others draped in green like their congeners from Port Macquarie; but it was impossible to catch them any more than the crows and magpies which flew away in flocks. A firing of small shot would have produced a great slaughter among these birds, but the hunters were still limited to stones for missiles and to sticks for hand held weapons and these primitive devices could not be anything but very inadequate.

Their inadequacy was demonstrated more clearly again when a troop of hopping and bounding quadrupedes, making leaps of thirty feet, real flying mammals, ran away over the thicket so nimbly and at such a height that they seemed to pass from one tree to another like squirrels.

“Kangaroos!” shouted Herbert.

“And are they edible?” replied Pencroff.

“Stewed,” responded the reporter, “they compare to a better venison!...”

Gideon Spilett had not finished this exciting statement when the sailor, followed by Neb and Herbert, went after the kangaroos. Cyrus Smith called them back but in vain. But it was also in vain that the hunters ran after this springy game which bounced like a ball. After five minutes of running they were out of breath and the band disappeared in the brushwood. Top had had no more success than his masters.

“Mister Cyrus,” said Pencroff when they rejoined the engineer and the reporter, “Mister Cyrus, you can well see that it is indispensable to make some guns. Will that be possible?”

“Perhaps,” replied the engineer, “but we will first begin by making some bows and arrows and I do not doubt that you will become just as skilled in their use as the Australian hunters.”

“Arrows, bows!” said Pencroff with a condescending pout. “That’s very well for children!”

“Don’t be proud, friend Pencroff,” responded the reporter. “Bows and arrows sufficed for centuries to stain the earth with blood. Powder is only a thing of yesterday but war is as old as the human race unfortunately.”

“You must excuse me, Mister Spilett,” replied the sailor, “I always speak too quickly.”

Herbert however, engrossed in his favorite science of natural history, returned to the subject of the kangaroos by saying:

“Besides, we had an encounter there with a species that is most difficult to capture. They were giants with a long grey fur but if I am not mistaken there exist black and red kangaroos, rock kangaroos and rat kangaroos which are much easier to lay hands on. One can count a dozen species...”

“Herbert” replied the sailor dogmatically, “for me there is only one species of kangaroo, the ‘kangaroo-on-the-spit’, and that is precisely the one that we will not have this evening.”

They could not help laughing on hearing this new classification by Master Pencroff. The good sailor could not at all hide his regret at being reduced to a dinner of singing pheasants, but fortune would show itself once more to accommodate him.

Top in fact, took a strong interest in the hunt, nosing about everywhere with an instinct increased by a ferocious appetite. It was even likely that if some game came under his control nothing would be left to the hunters and that Top was then hunting for himself, but Neb did well to watch him.

About three o’clock the dog disappeared into the brushwood and some muffled growlings soon indicated that he was at grips with some animal.

Neb dashed forward and sure enough he found Top greedily devouring a quadrupede which, ten seconds later, would have been impossible to recognize in Top’s stomach. But very fortunately the dog fell upon a brood; he had killed three. Two other rodents—the animals in question appeared to be of this order—were lying strangled on the ground.

Neb reappeared triumphant holding one of these rodents in each hand whose size exceeded that of a hare. Their yellow fur was mixed with greenish spots and their tail existed only in a rudimentary state.

The citizens of the Union did not hesitate to give these rodents the name which befitted them. They were “maras,” a sort of agouti, a little larger than their congeners from the tropical countries, really American rabbits, with long ears and with five molars on each side of the jaws, which is the distinguishing characteristic of agoutis.

“Hurrah!” cried Pencroff. “The roast has arrived and now we can go home.”

The march, momentarily interrupted, was resumed. The clear water of Red Creek rambled on under a canopy of casuarinas, banksias and gigantic gum trees. Superb liliaceous plants grew to a height of twenty feet. Other species of trees, which were unknown to the young naturalist, inclined over the brook which they heard murmuring under these arches of foliage.

However the watercourse was becoming noticeably wider and Cyrus Smith was led to believe that it would soon reach its mouth. In fact, upon leaving a thick mass of beautiful trees it suddenly appeared.

The explorers had arrived on the western shore of Lake Grant. This area was worth looking at. This expanse of water with a circumference of about seven miles and with an area of two hundred fifty acres [2] was set within a border of various trees. Toward the east, across a screen of foliage picturesquely enhanced in some places, appeared the sparkling horizon of the sea. In the north, the lake traced a slightly concave curve which contrasted with the sharp outline of is lower point. Numerous aquatic birds frequented the banks of this small Ontario. The “Thousand Islands” of its American namesake were represented by a rock which emerged above the surface at several hundred feet from the southern bank. There, several couples of kingfishers lived together, perched on some stone, solemn, immobile, on the lookout for passing fish. Then rushing and plunging with a sharp cry, they reappeared with prey in their beak. Elsewhere on the banks and on the islet there strutted wild ducks, pelicans, waterfowl, redbeaks, philedons provided with a tongue in the form of a paintbrush, and one or two specimens of those splendid lyrebirds whose tail unfolds like the gracious motion of a harp.

As to the waters of the lake, they were sweet and clear. From certain bubblings in concentric circles which intersected at their surface they could not doubt but that it abounded in fish.

“This lake is truly beautiful,” said Gideon Spilett. “We could live on its shore.”

“We will live there!” replied Cyrus Smith.

The colonists, then wanting to return to the Chimneys by the shortest way, went toward the angle formed in the south by the junction of the banks of the lake. With some difficulty they cut a path through the thickets and brushwood on which the hand of man had never made its mark and so they went toward the shore, arriving at the north of Grand View Plateau. Two miles were crossed in this direction when, after a last screen of trees, the plateau appeared, covered with a thick turf, and beyond that, the infinite sea.

In order to return to the Chimneys it would have been sufficient to cross the plateau obliquely for a distance of a mile and to descend to the bend formed by the first detour of the Mercy. But the engineer wanted to find out how and where the overflow of water escaped from the lake and the exploration was prolonged under the trees for a mile and a half toward the north. In fact it was probable that an outlet existed which doubtless went through a cut in the granite. In sum, the lake was only an immense basin which was gradually replenished by the flow from the creek and it could well be that the overflow escaped to the sea by some falls. If such was the case, the engineer thought that it would perhaps be possible to utilize this fall and to make use of its force, actually lost without profit to anyone. They continued thus to follow the banks of Lake Grant along the plateau; but after going another mile in this direction Cyrus Smith had not been able to discover the outlet which must exist however.

It was then half past four. The preparations for dinner required that the colonists go back to their dwelling. The small troop then retraced its steps along the left bank of the Mercy and Cyrus Smith and his companions arrived at the Chimneys.

There the fire was lit and Neb and Pencroff, on whom naturally devolved the duties of chefs, the one by virtue of being a Negro, the other by virtue of being a sailor, skillfully prepared grilled agoutis to which they did justice.

Neb and Pencroff prepared grilled agoutis...

The meal completed, the time came for everyone to get ready for bed. Cyrus Smith took some small samples of different minerals from his pocket and contented himself with saying:

“My friends, here is iron ore, here is pyrites, here is clay, here is lime, and here is coal. This is what nature gives us as its contributions to our efforts. Tomorrow we will do our share.”

1. The name that Americans give to a small watercourse.

2. About 100 hectares.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Castaways from the Sky

Chapter XIII

What is found on Top—Making bows and arrows—A brickyard—The kiln for pottery—Various kitchen utensils—The first broth—Wormwood—The southern cross—An important astronomical observation.

“WELL, Mister Cyrus, where shall we begin?” Pencroff asked the engineer the next morning.

“At the beginning,” replied Cyrus Smith.

In fact the colonists had to really begin at the beginning. They did not even possess the tools needed to make tools and they did not even find themselves in the position of Nature which “having time, economizes on effort.” They had no time since they had to provide immediately for the needs of their existence, and if profiting from acquired experience they had nothing to invent, none the less they had everything to make. Their iron, their steel was still only in the mineral state, their pottery was in the clay state, their linen and clothes were in the state of textile materials.

It must be said however that these colonists were “men” in the true sense of the word. The engineer Smith could not have been seconded by more intelligent companions nor with more devotion and zeal. He had tried them. He knew their strengths.

Gideon Spilett, a reporter of great talent, having learnnd everything, could speak about everything and could contribute with his mind and body to the colonization of the island. He would not recoil before any task and, being a passionate hunter, he would make a business out of what had been until then a sport for him.

Herbert, a courageous lad, already remarkably instructed in the natural sciences, would make a substantial contribution to the common cause.

Neb was devotion personified. Skillful, intelligent, tireless, robust, with a constitution of iron, he understood a little about the work of the forge and would be very useful to the colony.

As to Pencroff, he had sailed on all the oceans, a carpenter in the Brooklyn dockyards, a tailor’s aide in the Navy, gardener, farmer during his furloughs, etc., and like a man of the sea, prepared for everything and knowing how to do everything.

It would truly be difficult to unite five men more suitable to battle fate and more assured of triumphing against it.

“At the beginning,” Cyrus Smith had said. Now this beginning that the engineer referred to was the construction of an apparatus which would serve to transform natural substances. It is known that heat plays a role in these transformations. Now the fuel, wood or coal, was available for immediate use. They must proceed to make a furnace for using it.

“What is the purpose of the furnace?” asked Pencroff.

“To make the pottery that we need,” replied Cyrus Smith.

“And with what will we make the furnace ?”

“With bricks.”

“And the bricks?”

“With clay. Let’s go, my friends. In order to avoid transportation problems we will establish our workshop at the very place of production. Neb will bring the provisions and there will be no lack of fire for cooking food.”

“No,” replied the reporter, “but if there is to be no lack of food then we will have to make some hunting weapons.”

“Ah! If we only had a knife,” cried the sailor.

“What then?” asked Cyrus Smith.

“Then I would quickly make a bow and arrows and there would be plenty of game in the pantry.”

“Yes, a knife, a sharp blade...,” the engineer said as if speaking to himself.

At this moment he turned his attention toward Top who was prowling around the beach.

Suddenly Cyrus Smith became excited.

“Here, Top,” he said.

The dog ran up at his master’s call. He took Top’s head between his hands, detached the collar that the animal carried on his neck and broke it in two parts, saying:

“Here are two knives, Pencroff.”

The sailor responded with two hurrahs. Top’s collar was made of a thin blade of tempered steel. It was sufficient to first grind it on a sandstone so as to give it a keen sharp edge and then to raise the edge on a finer sandstone. Now this type of sandy rock was met with in abundance on the beach and two hours later the colony’s stock of tools was composed of two sharp blades which had been easy to fit into sturdy handles.

The conquest of this first tool was saluted like a triumph, a precious conquest indeed which would come in handy.

They left. It was Cyrus Smith’s intention to return to the eastern shore of the lake. There he had noticed on the previous day this clay soil, a sample of which he had. They took to the bank of the Mercy, crossed Grand View Plateau and after a walk of five miles at most they arrived at a clearing situated two hundred feet from Lake Grant.

On the way Herbert discovered a tree whose branches are used by the Indians of South America to make their bows. It was the “crejimba” of the palm tree family which does not bear edible fruit. Some long straight branches were cut, stripped of leaves, pruned, made thicker in the center and thinner at the extremities, and they had only to find a suitable plant for the cord of the bow. This was a species belonging to the mallow family, the “hibiscus heterophyllus” which furnishes fibers of remarkable tenacity that can be compared to the tendons of animals. Pencroff thus obtained some rather strong bows for which he only needed arrows. These were easy to make with some straight and rigid branches without knots but the point would have to be armed, that is to say with a substance suitable for replacing the iron which would not be easy to meet with. But Pencroff said that having done his share of the work, chance would do the rest.

The colonists arrived on terrain that they recognized from the previous day. It was composed of this figuline clay which serves in making bricks and tiles, clay which consequently would be very useful in carrying out the operation in question. The manual labor required would not present any difficulty. It sufficed to thin this fuguline with some sand, to mold the bricks and to bake them in the heat of a wood fire.

Ordinarily bricks are pressed into molds but the engineer was content to form them by hand. All that day and the following were employed with this work. The clay, mixed with water, was then puddled with the hands and feet of the manipulators and divided into blocks of equal size. A skilled workman could make, without a machine, up to ten thousand bricks in twelve hours but in their two days of work the five brickmakers of Lincoln Island made not more than three thousand which were arranged alongside each other until the time, three or four days later, when their complete drying would permit them to perform the baking.

Three thusand bricks were arranged...

On April 2nd Cyrus Smith determined the position of the island.

On the previous evening he had noted exactly the time when the sun had disappeared below the horizon, taking account of refraction. This morning he noted no less exactly the time when it reappeared. Between this setting and this rising twelve hours less twenty four minutes elapsed. Thus six hours and twelve minutes after today’s sunrise the sun would exactly pass the meridian and the point in the sky that it would occupy at that moment would be north. [1]

At the indicated hour Cyrus noted this point by lining up two trees with the sun which would serve as a reference mark. He thus obtained a fixed meridian for subsequent operations.

The two days preceding the baking of the bricks were occupied with providing fuel. They cut off branches around the clearing and gathered all the wood that had fallen under the trees. This was not done without a little hunting in the vicinity now done better since Pencroff possessed several dozen arrows armed with very sharp points. It was Top who had furnished these points. He brought in a porcupine, rather mediocre as food, but of incontestable value thanks to the quills with which it was studded. These quills were securely attached to the ends of the arrows whose stability was assured by a tail made with the feathers of cockatoos. The reporter and Herbert promptly became skillful archers. Then hairy and feathery game were abundant at the Chimneys, capybaras, pigeons, agoutis, heather cocks, etc. For the most part these animals were killed in the part of the forest situated on the left bank of the Mercy to which they gave the name Jacamar Woods in remembrance of the bird that Pencroff and Herbert had pursued during their first exploration.

This game was eaten fresh but they saved the legs of the capybara which they smoked over a fire of green wood after having aromatized it with fragrant leaves. This nourishment was fortifying but nevertheless it was always roast upon roast and the diners would have been happy to hear on the hearth the sound of beef boiling, but they would have to wait until the pot was made and consequently until the oven was built.

During these excursions, which were only made within a restricted radius around the brickyard, the hunters were able to verify the recent passage of large animals with powerful claws of a species they did not recognize. Cyrus Smith urged them to be extremely prudent because it was likely that the forest concealed several dangerous animals.

And it was well that they did. In fact one day Gideon Spilett and Herbert saw an animal that resembled a jaguar. This animal fortunately did not attack them because they perhaps would not have gotten away without some serious wound. But as soon as they could have a real weapon, that is to say one of the guns that Pencroff clamored for, Gideon Spilett vowed an intense war against the ferocious beasts to purge them from the island.

During these days the Chimneys were not made more comfortable because the engineer counted on discovering or building, if necessary, a more convenient dwelling. They were content to spread a fresh litter of moss and dry leaves on the sand of the passageways and on these somewhat primitive beds the weary workers slept a perfect sleep.

They also noted the days which passed on Lincoln Island from the time that the colonists first set foot there, and kept a regular count. The fifth of April, which was a Wednesday, was twelve days from the time that the storm had thrown the castaways on this shore.

On the sixth of April, at daybreak, the engineer and his companions gathered at the clearing in the vicinity of where the brick baking operation would take place. Naturally this kind of operation had to be done in the open air instead of in a furnace or rather in this conglomeration of bricks which would only be an enormous furnace which would bake itself. The fuel, made of well prepared faggots, was placed on the ground surrounded by several rows of dry bricks, soon forming a large cube, with air vents leading to the outside. This work lasted the entire day and only by evening did they set fire to the faggots.

That night no one went to bed and they watched carefully that the fire did not slacken.

The operation lasted forty eight hours and was a perfect success. It was then necessary to let the smoking mass cool. During this time Neb and Pencroff, guided by Cyrus Smith, used a hurdle of interlacing branches to transport several loads of limestone, very ordinary stones, which they found abundant north of the lake. These stones, decomposed by the heat, gave a very slimy quicklime with a yield increased by slaking, as pure in the end as if it had been produced by the calcination of chalk or of marble. Mixed with sand, which has the effect of reducing the contraction of the paste when it solidifies, this limestone furnished an excellent mortar.

The result of these various works was that on April 9th the engineer had at his disposal a certain quantity of fully prepared lime and several thousand bricks.

Without losing an instant they then began the construction of a kiln which would serve to bake the various potteries indispensable for domestic use. They succeeded without too much difficulty. Five days later the kiln was charged with coal discovered by the engineer in an open bed near the mouth of Red Creek. The first smoke escaped from a chimney about twenty feet high. The clearing was transformed into a factory and Pencroff was not far from believing that from this kiln would issue all the products of modern industry.

While waiting, the first thing that the colonists made was an ordinary pot but one very useful for cooking food. The main material was clay soil to which Cyrus Smith added a little lime and quartz. In reality this paste constitutes the real “pipe clay” from which they made pots, cups which had been molded on pottery wheels of the appropriate form, plates, large jars and vats for holding water, etc. The form of these objects was awkward and defective; but after they had been fired at a high temperature, the kitchen of the Chimneys found itself provided with a certain number of utensils as precious as if the most beautiful kaolin had been used in its composition.

The colonists made an ordinary pot.

It should be mentioned here that Pencroff, desiring to know if this clay, so prepared, justified its name of “pipe clay,” made some rather grotesque pipes which he found charming but since tobacco was missing, alas! And, it should be said, this was a large deprivation for Pencroff.

“But the tobacco will come like everything else,” he repeated during his outbursts of absolute confidence.

These tasks lasted until April 15th and one can be sure that this time was conscientiously employed. The colonists, having become potters, did no other thing except pottery. When it would be convenient for Cyrus Smith to change them to forgers, they would be forgers. But the next day was Sunday, Easter Sunday no less, and all agreed to sanctify this day by rest. These Americans were religious men, scrupulous observers of the precepts of the bible and the situation that they found themselves in could only develop their confidence in the Author of all things.

On the evening of the 15th of April they definitely returned to the Chimneys. The rest of the pottery was carried away and the kiln was extinguished to await a new use. The return was marked by a happy incident, the discovery made by the engineer of a substance suited to replace tinder. It is known that this spongy and velvety pulp comes from a certain mushroom of the polypore genus. Properly prepared it is extremely inflammable especially when it has been previously saturated with cannon powder or boiled in a solution of nitrate or potassium chlorate. But up to that time they had not found any of these polypores nor even morels which can replace them. On this day the engineer, having recognized a certain plant that belongs to the artemisia genus, which counts among its principle species wormwood, citronella, tarragon, etc., tore off several clumps and presented them to the sailor.

“Keep these, Pencroff,” he said. “Here is something that will please you.”

Pencroff looked at the plant attentively, lined with a lengthy and silky down, whose leaves were covered with a fluffy cotton.

“Well, what is this Mister Cyrus?” asked Pencroff. “Good heavens, is it tobacco?”

“No,” replied Cyrus Smith, “it is artemisia, Chinese artemisia for the scientists but for us it will be tinder.”

And in fact this artemisia, properly dried, furnishes a very inflammable substance especially when later the engineer would impregnate it with potassium nitrate of which the island possessed several beds and which is nothing more than saltpeter.

This evening all the colonists were gathered in the main room and ate in style. Neb had prepared a broth of agouti, a fragrant capybara ham to which was added boiled tubercules of the “caladium macrophizum,” a sort of herbaceous plant of the family of aroids which, in the tropical zone, take on an arborescent form. These rhizomes had an excellent taste, very nutritious, and nearly like the substance that is sold in England under the name of “Portland Sago.” This could, to a certain degree, replace bread which was still lacking to the colonists of Lincoln Island.

The supper was finished but before surrendering themselves to slumber, Cyrus Smith and his companions went to get some fresh air on the beach. It was eight o’clock. The night promised to be magnificent. The moon, which had been full five days earlier, had not yet risen but already the horizon was silvered with the soft gentle hues that could be called the lunar dawn. At the southern zenith the polar constellations glistened and among them was the Southern Cross which the engineer had greeted several days earlier on the top of Mount Franklin.

Cyrus Smith observed this splendid constellation for some time, which was composed on its upper portion and on its lower portion of two stars of the first magnitude, on its left arm a star of the second and on its right arm a star of the third magnitude.

Then after thinking:

“Herbert,” he asked the lad, “Isn’t this the 15th of April?”

“Yes, Mister Cyrus,” replied Herbert.

“Well then, if I am not mistaken, tomorrow will be one of the four days in the year when the true time will coincide with the average time, that is to say, my child, that tomorrow, within a few seconds, the sun will cross the meridian at noon, by the clock. If the weather is nice I think that I will be able to obtain the longitude of the island to an approximation of several degrees.”

“Without instruments or a sextant?” asked Gideon Spilett.

“Yes,” replied the engineer. “Also, since the night is clear I am going to try this very night to obtain our latitude by calculating the height of the Southern Cross, that is to say of the southern pole above the horizon. You can well appreciate, my friends, that before undertaking serious work on getting settled, it not only suffices to know that this land is an island but it is also necessary to know, if possible, at what distance it is situated either from the American continent, or the Australian continent or the principal archipelagos of the Pacific.”

“In fact,” said the reporter, “instead of constructing a house we could be more interested in constructing a boat if by chance we are only about a hundred miles from some inhabited coast.”

“That is why,” replied Cyrus Smith, “I am going to try this evening to obtain the latitude of Lincoln Island and tomorrow at noon I will try to calculate its longitude.”

If the engineer had possessed a sextant, an apparatus which permits, by reflection, the high precision measurement of the angular distance between objects, the operation would have offered no difficulty. This night by the height of the pole, the next day by the sun’s crossing of the meridian, he would have obtained the coordinates of the island. But with the apparatus missing, he had to supply it.

Cyrus Smith therefore returned to the Chimneys. By the light from the hearth he carved two small flat rulers that he attached together at their extremities so as to form a sort of compass whose branches could open or close. The point of attachment was secured by means of a strong thorn from an acacia which was part of the dead wood in the woodpile.

This instrument completed, the engineer returned to the beach, but he had to take the height of the pole above a clearly defined horizon, that is to say the horizon of the sea. However, Cape Claw hid the southern horizon so he would have to find a more convenient station. The best would evidently have been the shore exposed directly to the south but for this it would be necessary to cross the Mercy, then in darkness, which would be a difficulty.

Consequently, Cyrus Smith resolved to make his observations from Grand View Plateau and to take into account its height above sea level, a height which he would calculate the next day by a simple procedure of elementary geometry.

The colonists therefore went to the plateau by ascending the left bank of the Mercy and placed themselves on the edge that was oriented northwest to southeast, that is to say on this line of capriciously cut rocks which bordered the river.

This part of the plateau was fifty feet higher than the right bank which sloped down to the extremity of Cape Claw and to the southern coast of the island. No obstacle interfered with their view which embraced the horizon from the Cape to Reptile Promontory. In the south this horizon was illuminated from below by the first rays of the moon vividly delineated on the sky, enabling them to sight it with a certain precision.

At this moment the Southern Cross presented itself to the observer in an upside down position, the star Alpha marking its base, being the closest to the southern pole.

This constellation is not situated as close to the antarctic pole as the pole star is to the arctic pole. The star Alpha is about 27 degrees from it, but Cyrus Smith knew this and would take account of this angle in his calculation. He was also careful to observe the moment when it passed its lowest meridian which would render his observation easier.

Cyrus Smith therefore lined up one branch of his wooden compass with the horizon of the sea, the other on Alpha, as he would have done with circular eyepieces, and the opening between the two branches gave him the angular distance that separated Alpha from the horizon. In order to fix the angle obtained in an immutable way, he fastened the two slats of his apparatus by means of thorns using a third slat placed transversely such that their separation was firmly maintained.

That done, it remained only to calculate the angle obtained by correcting the observation to the level of the sea in a manner to take account of the depression of the horizon which necessitated the measurement of the height of the plateau. The value of this angle would thus give the height of Alpha and consequently that of the pole above the horizon, that is to say the latitude of the island, since the latitude of a point on the globe is always equal to the height of the pole above the horizon at this point.

These calculations were left for the next day and at ten o’clock everyone was in a deep sleep.

1. In fact at this time of the year and at this latitude, the sun rises at 5:48 a.m. and sets at 6:12 p.m.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Castaways from the Sky

Chapter XIV

The measurement of the granite wall—An application of the theorem of similar triangles—The latitude of the island—An excursion to the north—An oyster bed—Future projects —The sun's passage on the meridian—The coordinates of Lincoln Island.

THE next day, the 16th of April, Easter Sunday, the colonists left the Chimneys at daybreak and proceeded to wash their linen and to clean their clothes. The engineer counted on making soap as soon as he could procure the basic materials necessary for the saponificaiton, soda or potash, fat or oil. The important question of the renewal of the wardrobe would also be treated in its proper time and place. In any case, their clothes would easily last six more months because they were well made and could resist the stress of manual labors. But all would depend on the position of the island with respect to inhabited lands. This they would determine on this very day if the weather permitted it.

They proceeded to wash their linen.

Now the sun rose on a clear horizon announcing a magnificent day, one of those beautiful days of autumn which are the final farewells to the warm season.

They therefore proceeded to complete the observations of the previous day by measuring the height of Grand View Plateau above sea level.

“Will you need an instrument like the one that you used yesterday?” Herbert asked the engineer.

“No, my child,” he answered, “we will proceed differently but in a manner almost as precise.”

Herbert, loving instruction in all things, followed the engineer, who turned away from the foot of the granite wall and went down to the edge of the beach. During this time Pencroff, Neb and the reporter were occupied with various activities.

Cyrus Smith had provided himself with a sort of straight pole, twelve feet long, which he had measured as accurately as possible by comparing it with his own height which he knew to the nearest inch. Herbert carried a plumb line that Cyrus Smith had given him, that is to say a simple stone fixed to the end of a flexible fiber.

Arriving about twenty feet from the edge of the shore and about five hundred from the granite wall which rose perpendicularly, Cyrus Smith drove the pole two feet into the sand and, wedging it in with care, he succeeded, by means of the plumb line, in placing it perpendicular to the plane of the horizon.

That done he backed up a distance such that when he lay down on the sand, the visual ray from his eye simultaneously skimmed the top of the pole and the top of the wall. Then he carefully marked this point with a thorn.

When he lay down on the sand...

Then, addressing Herbert:

“Do you know the elementary principles of geometry?” he asked him.

“A little, Mister Cyrus,” replied Herbert, who did not wish to stick his neck out.

“Do you recall what are the properties of two similar triangles?”

“Yes,” replied Herbert. “Their homologous sides are proportional.”

“Well, my child, I have constructed two similar right triangles. The first, the smaller one, has for its sides the perpendicular pole, the distance which separates the thorn from the base of the pole, and my visual ray for a hypotenuse; the second has for sides the perpendicular wall, whose height we are measuring, the distance that separates the thorn from the base of this wall, and my visual ray also forming its hypotenuse which is the prolongation of the hypotenuse of the first triangle.”

“Ah, Mister Cyrus, I understand” cried Herbert. “The distance from the thorn to the pole divided by the distance from the thorn to the base of the wall is equal to the height of the pole divided by the height of this wall.”

“They are equal, Herbert,” replied the engineer, “and when we have measured the first two distances, and since we know the height of the pole, we will only have a calculation to make of the ratio, which will give us the height of the wall and will save us the trouble of measuring it directly.”

The two horizontal distances were determined by means of the pole, whose length above the sand was exactly ten feet.

The first distance was fifteen feet between the thorn and the point where the pole had been driven into the sand. The second distance, between the thorn and the base of the wall, was five hundred feet.

These measurements completed, Cyrus Smith and the lad returned to the Chimneys.

There the engineer took a stone plate which he had brought back from his previous excursions, a sort of shale slate, on which it was easy to trace some numbers by means of a sharp quill. He therefore established the following proportion:

15 : 500 : : 10 : x

500 × 10 = 5000

5000

----  = 333.33.

15

From this it was established that the height of the granite wall measured three hundred thirty three feet.[1]

Cyrus Smith then took the instrument which he had made the previous evening and whose two slats, by their separation, gave him the angular distance of the star Alpha above the horizon. He very accurately measured this angle against a circumference that he had divided into three hundred sixty equal parts. Now this angle was 10°. Consequently the total angular distance between the pole and the horizon, adding the 27° between Alpha and the antarctic pole and reducing it by the height above sea level of the plateau on which the observation was made, gave 37°. Cyrus Smith therefore concluded that Lincoln Island was situated on the 37th degree south latitude, or, taking an error of 5° into account in view of the imperfection of these operations, that it was situated between the 35th and the 40th parallel.

It remained to obtain the longitude in order to completely determine the coordinates of the island. This the engineer would attempt to determine this very day at noon, that is to say at the moment when the sun passed the meridian.

It was decided that they would take a walk this Sunday or rather an exploration of that part of the island situated between the north of the lake and Shark’s Gulf, and if the weather permitted, they would continue this reconnaissance up to the northern side of South Mandible Cape. They would eat on the dunes and only return by evening.

At eight thirty in the morning the small troop followed the border of the channel. On the opposite shore, on Safety Island, numerous birds promenaded gravely. They were the diving birds of the penguin species, very recognizable by their disagreeable cry which brings to mind the braying of the donkey. Pencroff could only consider them from the eating point of view and learned with a certain satisfaction that their flesh, though blackish, was very edible.

They could also see large amphibians crawling on the sand, seals no doubt, who seemed to have chosen the islet for refuge. It was hardly possible to consider these animals from the alimentary point of view because their oily flesh is detestable; however, Cyrus Smith observed them carefully and, without making his plans known, announced to his companions that they would soon pay a visit to the islet.

The shoreline followed by the colonists was scattered with innumerable shellfish some of which would have given joy to an amateur of malacology. There were among others phasianella, terebratula, trigonia, etc. But what would be very useful was this vast oyster bed discovered by Neb among the rocks at low tide, located about four miles from the Chimneys.

“Neb will not have wasted his day,” shouted Pencroff, observing the bank of ostracodes which spread out to the open sea.

“In fact it is a fortunate discovery,” said the reporter, “and if, as is claimed, each oyster produces fifty to sixty thousand eggs per annum, we will have an inexhaustible reserve.”

“Only I believe the oyster is not very nourishing,” said Herbert.

“No,” replied Cyrus Smith. “The oyster contains very little protein and if a man ate them exclusively he would need no less than fifteen to sixteen dozen each day.”

“Good,” said Pencroff. “We could devour dozens upon dozens before exhausting the bank. Shall we take some for our lunch?”

And without waiting for a reply to his proposition, knowing full well that it would be approved in advance, the sailor and Neb detached a certain quantity of these mollusks. They placed them in a sort of hibiscus fiber net that Neb had made and which already contained the meal’s menu; then they continued to ascend the shore between the dunes and the sea.

From time to time Cyrus Smith consulted his watch in order to prepare for the moment when the solar observation would take place, which had to be at noon precisely.

All of this portion of the island was very arid up to the point which closed Union Bay and which had received the name of South Mandible Cape. They saw there only sand and shells mixed with the debris of lava. Several sea birds frequented this desolated coast, sea gulls, large albatrosses as well as wild duck who with good reason excited Pencroff’s covetousness. He tried to attack them with arrows but without result because they hardly remained still and he could not reach them in flight.

This led the sailor to repeat to the engineer:

“You can see, Mister Cyrus, that unless we have one or two fowling pieces, our equipment will leave much to be desired.”

“Doubtless, Pencroff,” replied the reporter, “but it depends only on you. Get us iron for the barrel, steel for the firing pins, saltpeter, carbon and sulphur for the powder, mercury and nitric acid for the detonater, and finally lead for the balls and Cyrus will make us guns of the highest quality.”

“Oh!” replied the engineer, “without doubt we could find all these substances on the island, but a gun is a delicate instrument which requires tools of high precision. However we will see later on.”

“Why,” cried Pencroff, “did we throw overboard all the weapons that the basket carried, and our utensils, even our pocket knives?”

“But if we hadn’t thrown them out, Pencroff, it would be us that the balloon would have thrown to the bottom of the sea,” said Herbert.

“What you say is true, my boy,” replied the sailor.

Then passing to another thought:

“But think,” he added, “what must have been the bewilderment of Jonathan Forster and his companions when the next morning they found the square empty and the machine flown away.”

“My last care is to know what they thought,” said the reporter.

“Nevertheless, it was I who thought of the idea,” said Pencroff, with a pleased look.

“A good idea, Pencroff,” replied Gideon Spilett laughing, “and one which has placed us where we are.”

“I would rather be here than in the hands of the Southerners,” cried the sailor, “especially since Mister Smith has been kind enough to come and join us.”

“And I also, truly.” replied the reporter. “Besides, what do we lack? Nothing!”

“If that is not... everything.” answered Pencroff, who roared with laughter, shaking his large shoulders, “but one day or another we will find the means to leave.”

“And perhaps sooner than you imagine, my friends,” the engineer then said, “if Lincoln Island is only a moderate distance from an inhabited archipelago or a continent. In an hour we will know. I do not have a map of the Pacific but I have a very clear memory of its southern portion. The latitude which I obtained yesterday placed Lincoln Island between New Zealand on the west and the coast of Chile on the east. But between these two lands the distance is at least six thousand miles. It thus remains to determine which point the island occupies on this large space of ocean and it is that which the longitude will give us within the hour with a sufficient approximation, I hope.”

“Isn’t the archipelago of Tuamotu the nearest to us in latitude?” asked Herbert.

“Yes,” replied the engineer, “but the distance which separates us from it is more than twelve hundred miles.”

“And that way?” said Neb, who followed the conversation with extreme interest, his hand pointing south.

“There, nothing,” replied Pencroff.

“Nothing, in fact,” added the engineer.

“Well, Cyrus,” asked the reporter, “if Lincoln Island is only two or three hunderd miles from New Zealand or from Chile?...”

“Well,” replied the engineer, “instead of making a house we will make a boat and Master Pencroff will be in charge of maneuvering it...”

“To be sure, Mister Cyrus,” cried the sailor, “I am all ready to be captain... as soon as you will find the means to construct a vessel large enough to take to sea.”

“We will make it, if that is necessary,” replied Cyrus Smith.

But while these men, who truly doubted nothing, were chatting, the hour approached during which the observation would take place. How would Cyrus Smith verify the passage of the sun on the meridian of the island without any instrument? Herbert could not guess.

The observers then found themselves at a distance of six miles from the Chimneys, not far from that part of the dunes in which the engineer had been found after his puzzling rescue. They halted in this locality and everyone got ready to eat since it was eleven thirty. Herbert went to get some sweet water from a stream which flowed nearby and he carried it in a jug provided by Neb.

During these preparations Cyrus Smith arranged everything for his astronomical observation. He chose a very flat place on the beach that the receding sea had perfectly leveled. This very fine bed of sand was made as smooth as glass without any grain of sand higher than another. However it was of little importance whether this bed was horizontal or not and of no importance that the six foot rod be placed perpendicularly. To the contrary, the engineer even inclined it to the south that is to say to the side opposite the sun, because it should not be forgotten that since Lincoln Island was situated in the southern hemisphere, the colonists saw the radiant orb describe its diurnal arc above the northern horizon and not the southern horizon.

Herbert then understood how the engineer was going to proceed to determine the sun’s highest point, that is to say its passage on the meridian of the island or in other terms, the local noontime. It was by means of the shadow projected on the sand by the rod, the means which, in the absence of an instrument, would give him an approximation sufficient for the result he wished to obtain.

In fact the moment when this shadow would attain its minimum length would be precisely noon and it would suffice to follow the end of this shadow in order to recognize the instant when, after having successively diminished it would begin to lengthen. By inclining the rod to the side opposite to the sun, Cyrus Smith produced a longer shadow and consequently his modification would make his determination easier. In fact, the larger the pointer of a dial is, the easier it is to follow the displacement of its point. The shadow of the rod was nothing more than the pointer of a dial.

When he thought that the moment had arrived, Cyrus Smith knelt on the sand and by means of small wooden pegs that he stuck into the sand, he began to check off the successive decreases in the shadow of the rod. His companions, leaning over him, followed the operation with extreme interest.

The reporter held his chronometer in his hand ready to note the time when the shadow would be its shortest. Inasmuch as Cyrus Smith was operating on the 16th of April, a day in which the true time and the average time coincide, the time given by Gideon Spilett would be the true time then at Washington, which would simplify the calculation.

The sun advanced slowly; the shadow of the rod diminished little by little and when it seemed to Cyrus Smith that it began to lengthen:

The sun advanced slowly.

“What time is it?” he said.

“Five o’clock and one minute," Gideon Spilett replied at once.

It remained only to make the calculation. Nothing was easier. There was, as they saw, in round figures, a difference of five hours between the meridian of Washington and that of Lincoln Island, that is to say, it was noontime on Lincoln Island when it was already five o’clock in the evening in Washington. Now the sun, in its apparent movement around the earth, covers one degree in four minutes making 15° per hour. 15° multiplied by five hours gives 75°.

Therefore since Washington is at 77° 3′ 11″ say 77° counting from the meridian of Greenwich—which the Americans take as the longitude reference concurrently with the English—it follows that the island was situated at 77° plus 75° to the west of the meridian of Greenwich, that is to say at the 152nd degree west longitude.

Cyrus Smith announced this result to his companions and taking account of the errors of observation, as he had done for the latitude, he could affirm that the coordinates of Lincoln Island were between the 35th and 40th parallel and between the 150th and the 155th meridians to the west of the meridian of Greenwich.

The possible variations that he attributed to observational errors were, as we saw, 5° both ways which, at sixty miles per degree, gave an error of three hundred miles in latitude or in longitude for the exact location.

But this error would have no influence on the decision they would have to make. It was very evident that Lincoln Island was at such a distance from all land or archipelagos that they could not hazard to cross this distance in a simple and fragile boat.

In fact this determination placed it at least twelve hundred miles from Tahiti and the islands of the archipelago of Tuamotu, more than eighteen hundred miles from New Zealand and more than four thousand five hundred miles from the American coast.

And when Cyrus Smith consulted his memory he could not recall in any fashion that an island occupied that part of the Pacific assigned to Lincoln Island.

1. In units of the English foot which equals 30 centimeters.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Castaways from the Sky

Chapter XV

Wintering is definitely decided—The metallurgical question—Exploration of Safety Island—Seal Hunt—Capture of an echidna—The koala—The so-called Catalan Method—Making iron—How to obtain steel.

THE next day, April 17th, the sailor’s first words were directed to Gideon Spilett.

“Well sir,” he asked him, “what shall we do today?”

“Whatever pleases Cyrus,” replied the reporter.

Until then they had been brickmakers and potters. Now the engineer’s companions would become metallurgists.

The previous day, after lunch, the exploration had been carried to the point of Cape Mandible, nearly seven miles distant from the Chimneys. There the long series of dunes was ended and the soil took on a volcanic appearance. There were no longer any high walls such as Grand View Plateau but an outlandish and capricious border which surrounded the narrow gulf between the two capes, formed by mineral material vomited from the volcano. Arriving at this point the colonists retraced their steps and as night was falling they again entered the Chimneys. They did not go to sleep before definitely resolving the question of whether they should quit Lincoln Island or not.

The twelve hundred miles which separated the island from the Tuamotu archipelago was a considerable distance. A boat would not be sufficient to cross it especially with the bad season coming on. Pencroff had expressly said so. Now to construct a simple boat, even having the necessary tools, was a difficult task and, the colonists not having any tools, they would have to begin by making hammers, axes, adzes, saws, augers, planes, etc. which would take time. It was therefore decided that they would winter on Lincoln Island and that they would find a dwelling more comfortable than the Chimneys to pass the winter months.

First they would proceed to utilize the iron ore, of which the engineer had noted several beds in the northwest part of the island, and to change this mineral into iron or into steel.

Soil does not generally contain metals in the pure state. For the most part they are found combined with oxygen or with sulphur. In particular, of the two specimens brought back by Cyrus Smith, one was magnetic iron, not carbonated, the other pyrites, otherwise known as ferric sulphide. It was thus the first, the iron oxide, that he would have to reduce with carbon, that is to say to remove the oxygen in order to obtain a pure state. This reduction is done by subjecting the mineral to a high temperature in the presence of carbon, either by the rapid and easy “Catalan Method” which has the advantage of directly transforming the mineral into iron in a single operation, or by the blast furnace method, which first changes the mineral into cast iron, then the cast iron into iron by raising the amount of carbon combined with it to three or four percent.

Now what was it that Cyrus Smith needed? It was iron and not cast iron and he had to look for the most rapid method of reduction. Besides, the mineral that he had collected was by itself very pure and very rich. It was the ferrous oxide which is encountered in jumbled aggregates of a deep grey, giving a black dust crystallized in regular octahedrons. It makes natural lodestones and is used in Europe to make ferrous products of the highest quality. Sweden and Norway are abundantly provided with it. Not far from this bed were found the coal seams already exploited by the colonists. There the treatment of the mineral would be facilitated since the fabrication elements would be near each other. This is the same situation that makes for the lavish wealth of the United Kingdom where the coal and the metal are extracted from the same soil and at the same time.

“Then, Mister Cyrus,” Pencroff said to him, “we will work the iron ore.”

“Yes, my friend,” replied the engineer, “and for that—this will not displease you—we will begin with a seal hunt on the islet.”

“A seal hunt!” cried the sailor, turning toward Gideon Spilett, “Is a seal needed to make iron?”

“Since Cyrus has said so,” replied the reporter.

But the engineer had already left the Chimneys and Pencroff prepared for the seal hunt without having obtained any other explanation.

Soon Cyrus Smith, Herbert, Gideon Spilett, Neb and the sailor had gathered on the shore at the point where the channel permitted a sort of fordable passage at low tide. The sea was then at low tide and the hunters could cross the channel without wetting themselves above the knees.

Cyrus Smith then set foot on the islet for the first time and his companions for the second time since it was there that the balloon had thrown them at the beginning.

At their arrival, a few hundred auks looked at them guilelessly. The colonists, armed with clubs, could have easily killed them but they would not dream of committing such a doubly useless massacre, because it was important not to frighten the amphibians who were lying on the sand several cable lengths away. They also respected certain innocent penguins whose wings, reduced to the state of stumps, were flattened in the form of fins and trimmed with feathers of a scaly appearance.

The colonists therefore advanced prudently toward the north point, walking on soil riddled with small holes which formed the nests of aquatic birds. Near the extremity of the islet appeared large black specks floating on the level of the water. One could say they were the tops of rocks in motion.

The colonists advanced prudently.

They were the amphibians to be captured. It was necessary to let them land because with their narrow pelvis, their close-cropped hair, and their slender shape, these seals, who were excellent swimmers, would be difficult to capture in the sea whereas on land their short webbed feet allowed them only a not very rapid crawling movement.

Pencroff knew the habits of these amphibians and he advised waiting until they had stretched out on the sand under the rays of the sun which would not be long in putting them to sleep. They would then maneuver to cut off their retreat and to knock them on the nostrils.

The hunters thus concealed themselves behind the rocks on the shore and they waited silently.

An hour passed before the seals came to frolic on the sand. They could count half a dozen. Pencroff and Herbert then broke off in order to turn the point of the islet, to take them from the rear and to cut off their retreat. During this time Cyrus Smith, Gideon Spilett and Neb, crawling along the rocks, glided toward the future theater of combat.

Suddenly the tall stature of the sailor emerged. Pencroff uttered a cry. The engineer and his two companions quickly threw themselves between the sea and the seals. Two of these animals, vigorously struck, remained dead on the sand, but the others were able to regain and take to the open sea.

These animals, vigorously struck...

“Here are the seals asked for, Mister Cyrus,” said the sailor, advancing toward the engineer.

“Good,” replied Cyrus Smith. “We will make forge bellows of them.”

“Forge bellows!” cried Pencroff. “Well, these are lucky seals.”

It was in fact a blowing machine, necessary for the treatment of the mineral, that the engineer counted on making with the skin of these amphibians. They were of an average size because their length was not more than six feet. Their heads resembled that of dogs.

Since it was pointless to burden themselves with the rather considerable weight of these two animals, Neb and Pencroff resolved to skin them on the spot while Cyrus Smith and the reporter ended by exploring the islet.

The sailor and the negro did their work skillfully and three hours later Cyrus Smith had at his disposal two seal skins which he counted on using in this state without subjecting them to any tanning.

The colonists had to wait for low tide. Crossing the channel, they returned to the Chimneys.

It was no small job to soften these skins on the wooden frames designed to spread them out, and to sew them up by means of fibers so as to be able to store air there without letting too much escape. It was necessary to rework it several times. Cyrus Smith only had the two steel blades from Top’s collar at his disposal. Nevertheless, he was so skillful and his companions helped him with such intelligence that three days later the tool inventory of the small colony was increased by a blowing machine designed to inject air into a mineral subjected to heat—a condition indispensable for the success of the operation.

It was the morning of the 20th of April that “the metallurgical period” began, so-called by the reporter in his notes. The engineer had decided, as we know, to work both the coal and mineral beds. Now, from his observations, these beds were situated at the foot of the northeast buttresses of Mount Franklin, that is to say at a distance of six miles. They could not therefore think of returning each day to the Chimneys. It was agreed that the small colony would camp under a hut of branches so that the important operation could be followed night and day.

This decided, they left in the morning. Neb and Pencroff dragged the bellows on a hurdle together with a certain quantity of vegetables and animal provisions which, besides, they would renew on the way.

The path followed was through Jacamar Woods which they crossed obliquely from the southeast to the northwest and in its thickest part. It was necessary to blaze a trail which would later form the most direct artery between Grand View Plateau and Mount Franklin. The trees, belonging to species already recognized, were magnificent. Herbert again noted, among others, some dragon trees which Pencroff called “pretentious warts”—because in spite of their size they were of the same family of liliaceous plants as the onion, the chive, the shallot or asparagus. These dragon trees could provide ligneous roots which are excellent when cooked and which give a very agreeable liqueur when subjected to a certain fermentation. They gathered some of it.

The path across the woods was long. It lasted the entire day but this permitted them to observe the fauna and the flora. Top, more especially in charge of the fauna, followed a path through the grass and brushwood, indiscriminately flushing out every kind of game. Herbert and Gideon Spilett killed two kangaroos with arrows and also an animal that bore a strong resemblance to a hedgehog and to an anteater; to the first because it rolled itself into a ball and bristled with quills; to the second because it had burrowing claws and a long slim snout with a bird’s beak at the end and an extendable tongue furnished with small quills which served to retain insects.

“And when it will be in a boiling pot,” Pencroff artlessly asked, “what will it resemble?”

“An excellent piece of beef,” replied Herbert.

“We will not ask more of it,” replied the sailor.

During this excursion they saw some wild boars who did not seek to attack the small troop. It did not appear wise to collide with these formidable beasts when, in a thick hedge, the reporter thought he saw, several feet away among the main branches of a tree, an animal which he took for a bear. He quietly took to sketching it. Very happily for Gideon Spilett the animal in question did not appear to be of this formidable family of plantigrades. This was only a koala, better known under the name of sloth, which was the size of a large dog with dull bristling hair. Its paws are armed with strong claws, permitting it to climb trees and eat the leaves. Verification of the identity of the said animal having been made, there was no need to disturb it. Gideon Spilett erased “bear” from the title of his sketch, put “koala” in its place and the journey was resumed.

At five o’clock in the evening Cyrus Smith gave the signal to halt. They found themselves outside the forest at the base of those powerful buttresses which supported Mount Franklin on its eastern side. Red Creek flowed several hundred feet away and consequently potable water was not far off.

Camp was immediately organized. In less than an hour at the edge of the forest among the trees, a hut of branches intermingled with creepers and cemented with clay offered a sufficient retreat. They postponed the geological searches for the next day. Supper was prepared, a good fire burned in front of the hut, the spit turned, and at eight o’clock, while one of the colonists watched to keep up the fire in the event some dangerous beast might prowl about, the others slept well.

The next day, the 21st of April, Cyrus Smith, accompanied by Herbert, went to look for those terrains of ancient formation where he had already found a mineral specimen. He again discovered the bed at ground level, near the sources of the creek at the foot of the lateral base of one of the buttresses on the northeast side. The very rich iron mineral, enclosed in a fusible gangue, was perfectly suitable for the reduction method that the engineer counted on using, that is to say the Catalan Method, but simplified as used in Corsica.

In fact the Catalan Method, properly called, requires the construction of kilns and crucibles in which the mineral and the coal are placed in alternate layers to be transformed and reduced. But Cyrus Smith intended to economize on these constructions and wanted to simplify everything by forming a cubic mass of the mineral and coal into which he would direct the air from his bellows. This was the procedure doubtless employed by Tubal Cain and the first metallurgists of the inhabited world. Now, that which succeeded with the grandsons of Adam, that which still gave good results in the countries rich in mineral and in fuel, could not but succeed under the circumstances that the colonists of Lincoln Island found themselves.

The mineral was collected without difficulty at the same time as the coal and not far from the surface. First they broke the mineral into small pieces and they removed by hand the impurities which contaminated its surface. Then coal and mineral were placed in successive layers—as the charcoal burner does with wood that he wishes to carbonize. In this fashion, under the influence of the air forced in by the bellows, the coal would be transformed into carbonic acid, then into carbon monoxide which in turn reduces the iron oxide, that is to say it frees the oxygen.

The engineer proceeded in this way. A tube of refractory clay, which had been previously made in the kiln, was used as an opening for the sealskin bellows. The latter was placed near the mineral heap. Actuated by a mechanism whose parts consisted of a chassis, fiber cords and counterweights, it injected air into the mass, elevating the temperature concurrent with the chemical transformation which would yield pure iron.

The operation was difficult. It required all the patience and ingenuity of the colonists to conduct it well, but finally it succeeded and the definite result was a blob of iron reduced to a spongy state which would have to be hammered and worked, that is to say forged to drive out the liquified gangue. It was evident that these improvised blacksmiths lacked the first hammer; but in the end they found themselves in the same situation as the first metallurgist and they did what he must have done.

The operation was difficult.

The first blob, attached to a club, served as a hammer to forge the second on an anvil of granite and they finally obtained a coarse but usable metal.

On the 25th of April, after much effort and fatigue, several bars of iron were forged and transformed into tools, pliers, tongs, picks, pickaxes, etc. which Pencroff and Neb declared to be true gems.

This metal was not in the state of pure iron, especially that state of steel which would give the best service. Now steel is a combination of iron and carbon that is derived either from cast iron by removing the excess carbon, or from iron by adding to it the carbon that it lacks. The first, obtained by decarbonization of cast iron yields natural or puddled steel; the second, produced by the carbonization of iron, yields case hardened steel.

It was this last method that Cyrus Smith preferred since he possessed iron in a pure state. He succeeded in heating the metal with carbon powder in a crucible made of refractory clay.

This steel, which is malleable hot and cold, was worked with a hammer. Neb and Pencroff, skillfully guided, made some axes which when heated red hot and suddenly plunged into cold water acquired an excellent temper.

Other devices, crudely fashioned it goes without saying, were made in the same way, plane blades, axes, hatchets, sheets of steel which would be transformed into saws, carpenter’s shears, then pickaxes, shovels, picks, hammers, nails, etc.

Finally, on May 5th, the first metallurgical period was ended, the blacksmiths returned to the Chimneys and new work would soon authorize them to take on a new title.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Castaways from the Sky

Chapter XVI

The question of a dwelling is treated anew—Pencroff's fantasies—An exploration to the north of the lake—The northern border of the plateau—Serpents—The extremity of the lake—Top's uneasiness—Top swimming—A combat under the waters—The dugong.

IT was the 6th of May, a day which corresponds to the 6th of November in the countries of the northern hemisphere. The sky had been overcast for several days and it was important to make certain arrangements with a view to wintering. Nevertheless the temperature was not yet sensibly lower and a centigrade thermometer transported to Lincoln Island would still have marked an average of ten to twelve degrees above zero. This average is not surprising since Lincoln Island, very definitely situated between the 35th and 40th parallel, must find itself subject, in the southern hemisphere, to the same climatic conditions as Sicily or Greece in the northern hemisphere. But, like Greece or Sicily which suffer intensive frosts that produce snow and ice, Lincoln Island too would be subject doubtless, in the more pronounced periods of winter, to certain low temperatures against which it would be best to protect themselves.

In any case, if the frost did not yet menace them, the rainy season was approaching and on this isolated island, exposed to all the inclemencies of the vast Pacific Ocean, the bad weather would be frequent and probably terrible.

The question of a dwelling more comfortable than the Chimneys therefore had to be seriously considered and promptly resolved.

Pencroff naturally had some partiality for this retreat which he had discovered, but he well understood that it was necessary to look for another. Already the Chimneys had been visited by the sea under circumstances that we recall, and they could not expose themselves to a similar accident.

“Besides,” added Cyrus Smith, who on this day spoke of these things with his companions, “we have several precautions to take.”

“Why? The island is not inhabited,” said the reporter.

“That is probable,” replied the engineer, “although we have not yet explored it in its entirety, but if no human being is found, I fear that dangerous animals abound. It would thus be best to shelter ourselves against a possible aggression, and don’t forget that one of us must stay awake each night to keep up the fire. And thus, my friends, we must anticipate everything. We are here in a part of the Pacific that is often frequented by Malay pirates...”

“What,” said Herbert, “at this distance from all land?”

“Yes, my child,” replied the engineer. “These pirates are hardy sailors as well as formidable scoundrels and we will have to take measures in consequence.”

“Oh well,” replied Pencroff, “we will fortify ourselves against savages with two feet as well as four feet. But, Mister Cyrus, shouldn’t we explore all parts of the island before undertaking anything?”

“That would be best,” added Gideon Spilett. “Who knows if we will not find on the opposite shore one of those caverns that we are vainly looking for here.”

“That is true,” replied the engineer, “but you forget, my friends, that it would be best to establish ourselves in the neighborhood of a watercourse, and that from the summit of Mount Franklin we saw neither brook nor river toward the west. Here, on the contrary, we are situated between the Mercy and Lake Grant, a considerable advantage that we should not neglect. And moreover, this coast, oriented to the east, is not exposed as the other one is to the trade winds which blow from the northwest in this hemisphere.”

“Then, Mister Cyrus,” replied the sailor, “we will build a house on the borders of the lake. Neither bricks nor tools are lacking to us now. After having been brickmakers, potters, founders and blacksmiths, we will well know how to be masons, the devil!”

“Yes, my friend, but before making a decision we should go looking. A dwelling made at nature’s expense would save us a lot of work and would doubtless offer us a surer retreat because it could be better defended against enemies from inside as well as those from outside.”

“Quite so, Cyrus,” replied the reporter, “but we have already examined all of this massive granite on the coast and there is not a hole, not even a crack.”

“No, not one” added Pencroff. “Ah! If we could excavate a dwelling in this wall at a certain height in a way that puts us out of reach, how convenient that would be. I see it now, a facade that overlooks the sea, five or six rooms...”

“With windows to light them,” said Herbert laughing.

“And a staircase to climb to it,” added Neb.

“You laugh,” cried the sailor, “and why? Is what I propose impossible? Don’t we have the picks and pickaxes? Doesn’t Mister Cyrus know how to make the powder to explode a mine. Isn’t it true, Mister Cyrus, that you could make the powder for the day when we would need it?”

Cyrus Smith listened as the enthusiastic Pencroff developed his somewhat fantastic projects. To attack this mass of granite, even with a mine, was a herculean task, and it was unfortunately true that nature had not made a harder task. But the engineer only replied to the sailor by proposing to examine more carefully the wall from the mouth of the river up to the corner which terminated it in the north.

They then left and the exploration was made with extreme care over an extent of about two miles. But in no place could they see any cavity whatsoever in this wall which was smooth and straight. The nests of the rock pigeons which flew at its peak were in reality only holes bored in the crest itself and on the irregular edge cut from the granite.

It was an unfortunate circumstance and as to attacking this mass be it with a pick or with powder in order to make a sufficient excavation, they could not think of it. It was quite by chance that on this entire coast, Pencroff had discovered the only provisionally habitable shelter, that is to say the Chimneys, which they were nevertheless proceeding to abandon.

The exploration ended, the colonists then found themselves at the northern corner of the wall, where it terminated with elongated slopes that died out on the beach. From this neighborhood up to its extreme limit in the west, it formed only a sort of bank, a thick conglomeration of stones, soil and sand, bound together with plants, shrubs and grass inclined to an angle of forty five degrees. Here and there the granite still pierced through and stood out by sharp points from this sort of cliff. Clusters of trees spread out on its slopes and a rather thick grass carpeted it. But the vegetative effort did not go further and a long plain of sand, which began at the foot of the slope, extended up to the shore.

Cyrus Smith thought, not without reason, that there had to be an overflow of the lake on this side that would pour over in the form of a cascade. In fact it was necessary that the excess of water furnished by Red Creek should lose itself at some point. Now this point the engineer had not yet found at any portion of the shore already explored, that is to say from the mouth of the stream in the west up to Grand View Plateau.

The engineer then proposed to his companions that they climb the slope now in view and return to the Chimneys by the heights thereby exploring the northern and western banks of the lake.

The proposition was accepted and in several minutes Herbert and Neb had arrived at the upper plateau. Cyrus Smith, Gideon Spilett and Pencroff followed them more sedately.

Two hundred feet away, past the foliage, the beautiful sheet of water shone under the rays of the sun. The landscape in this neighborhood was charming. The trees, turning yellow, were wonderfully grouped as a feast for the eyes. Several large old trunks, battered by age, stood out by their blackish bark on the green carpet which covered the soil. A whole world of noisy cockatoos chattered away, veritable mobile prisms, who jumped from one branch to the next. One could say that light arrived only decomposed across this singular foliage.

The colonists, instead of going directly to the north shore of the lake, went around the edge of the plateau so as to reach the mouth of the creek on its left bank. It was a detour of a mile and a half at most. It was an easy walk because the widely spaced trees allowed an easy passage. They sensed that this was the limit of the fertile zone and the vegetation showed itself less vigorous here than in the entire area between the creek and the Mercy.

Cyrus Smith and his companions did not walk on this unknown soil without a certain caution. Bows, arrows, and sticks fitted with an iron point were their only weapons. However, no wild animals showed themselves and it was probable that these animals frequented more the thick forest of the south; but the colonists had the disagreeable surprise of seeing Top stop in front of a large serpent that measured fourteen to fifteen feet in length. Neb stunned it with his club. Cyrus Smith examined this reptile and declared that it was not venomous because it belonged to a species of diamond serpents native to New South Wales. But it was possible that others existed whose bite was mortal, such as the deaf viper with a forked tail that straightens out when stepped upon, or those winged serpents, provided with two ear flaps that permit them to move very rapidly. After the first moment of surprise passed, Top gave chase to these reptiles so obstinately that they feared for him. His master continually called him back.

Top stopped in front of a serpent.

The mouth of Red Creek, in the neighborhood of its entrance into the lake, was soon reached. The explorers recognized the opposite bank which they had visited on the descent from Mount Franklin. Cyrus Smith established that the flow of water from the creek was rather considerable; it was therefore necessary that somewhere nature had provided an outlet for the overflow of the lake. It was this outlet that he was trying to discover because doubtless it formed a falls which it would be possible to utilize for mechanical power.

The colonists were moving with a purpose but without separating much from each other. They began to go around the bank of the lake which was very steep. The waters seemed full of fish and Pencroff promised himself that he would make some fishing tackle in order to exploit this.

It was first necessary to double the sharp northeast point. One could suppose that the discharge of the waters was in this locality because the extremity of the lake was at the level of the edge of the plateau. But there was nothing there and the colonists continued to explore the bank which, after a slight curvature, became parallel to the shore.

On this side the bank was less wooded but some clusters of trees, scattered here and there, added to the picturesqueness of the landscape. Lake Grant appeared then in all its expanse with no wind rippling over the surface of its waters. Top, beating through the brushwood, drove out various flocks of birds which Gideon Spilett and Herbert greeted with their arrows. One of the birds was skillfully hit by the young lad and fell among the marshy grass. Top ran toward it and brought back a beautiful slate colored water fowl with a short beak, a very developed frontal area, toes broadened by a scalloped edge, and wings with a white border. It was a coot, the size of a large partridge, belonging to the group of macrodactyls which form the transition between the order of waders and that of palmipeds. In short, it was a sorry game and one with a taste leaving much to desire. But Top doubtless would show less difficulty than his masters and it was decided that the coot would serve as his supper.

The colonists then followed the east shore of the lake and they were not long in reaching the portion already familiar to them. The engineer was very surprised because he saw no indication of the discharge of the overflow of the water. The reporter and the sailor spoke with him and he could not conceal his astonishment from them.

At this moment Top, who had been very calm until then, gave signs of agitation. The intelligent animal went back and forth along the bank, stopped suddenly and looked at the water with a raised paw as if he had been on the alert for some invisible game; then he barked furiously, in a hunting mood so to speak, and was suddenly silent.

Neither Cyrus Smith nor his companions at first paid any attention to Top’s antics; but the dog’s barking soon became so frequent that the engineer became concerned.

“What’s there, Top?” he asked.

The dog, showing a real uneasiness, made several bounds toward his master and ran again toward the shore. Then he suddenly threw himself into the lake.

“Here Top,” cried Cyrus Smith, who did not want his dog to venture into the suspicious waters.

“What’s going on underneath there?” asked Pencroff, while examining the surface of the lake.

“Top has sensed some amphibian,” replied Herbert.

“An alligator, doubtless,” said the reporter.

“I do not think so,” replied Cyrus Smith. “Alligators are only met with in regions of lower latitude.”

Top however came back at his master’s call and regained the shore; but he was unable to remain still. He leaped around in the high grass and, with his instinct guiding him, he seemed to follow some invisible being which was gliding under the waters of the lake, following the shoreline. Nevertheless, the water was calm and no ripple disturbed the surface. Several times the colonists stopped on the shore and looked carefully. Nothing appeared. There was some mystery there.

The engineer was very intrigued.

“Let us pursue this exploration to its end,” he said.

A half hour later they all arrived at the southeast corner of the lake on Grand View Plateau. At this point their examination of the banks of the lake had to be considered as completed and yet the engineer had not been able to discover where and how the water was discharged.

“Nevertheless this opening exists,” he repeated, “and since it is not on the outside it must be hollowed out inside this mass of granite on the coast.”

“But what importance do you attach to knowing this, my dear Cyrus?” asked Gideon Spilett.

“A rather large one,” replied the engineer, “because if the opening is through this granite block, it is possible that we will find some cavity there which it will be easy to render habitable after having detoured the water.”

“But isn’t it possible, Mister Cyrus, that the water escapes through the bottom of this very lake,” said Herbert, “and that it goes to the sea by a subterranean passage?”

“That is, in fact, possible,” replied the engineer, “and if that is so we will be obliged to build our house by ourselves since nature has not done the preliminary construction work.”

The colonists were then getting ready to cross the plateau to get back to the Chimneys because it was five o’clock in the evening when Top gave new signs of agitation. He barked with rage and before his master could restrain him he threw himself a second time into the lake.

Everyone ran toward the shore. The dog was already more than twenty feet away and Cyrus Smith was sharply calling him when an enormous head emerged from the surface of the water which did not appear to be deep at this point.

Herbert recognized at once this species of amphibian which has a tapered head with large eyes and whose mustache is decorated with long silky hair.

“A manatee!” he cried.

It was not a manatee, but a specimen of this species of the order of cetaceans which carries the name of “dugong” because its nostrils are open at the upper part of its snout.

The enormous animal threw itself on the dog who vainly tried to escape him and return to the shore. His master could do nothing to save him, and even before it occurred to Gideon Spilett or to Herbert to arm their bows, Top, seized by the dugong, disappeared under the water.

Neb, his iron tipped spear in hand, wanted to help the dog by attacking the formidable animal in its own element.

“No, Neb,” said the engineer, restraining his courageous servant.

However an inexplicable battle was going on under the water. Under these conditions Top evidently could not resist. Judging from the bubbles on the surface, this was a terrible battle which could only end finally in the death of the dog. But suddenly in the middle of a circle of foam, Top reappeared. Thrown into the air by some unknown force, he rose ten feet above the surface of the lake, falling in the midst of the profoundly troubled water. He soon regained the shore without any deep wound, miraculously saved.

Top, thrown into the air...

Cyrus Smith and his companions looked on without understanding. There was yet another inexplicable circumstance. The battle was still continuing under the water. Doubtless the dugong, attacked by some powerful animal after having released the dog, was fighting on its own account.

But this did not last long. The water became red with blood and the body of the dugong emerged within a wide scarlet area, soon becoming stranded on a small beach on the southern corner of the lake.

The colonists ran toward this spot. The dugong was dead. It was an enormous animal, fifteen feet long, weighing three to four thousand pounds. There was a wound on its neck which seemed to have been made with a sharp blade.

What was this amphibian which had been able to destroy the formidable dugong with this terrible blow? No one could say and rather preoccupied with this incident, Cyrus Smith and his companions returned to the Chimneys.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Castaways from the Sky

Chapter XVII

A visit to the lake—An indication of the current—Cyrus Smith's plans—The fat from the dugong—Using pyritic schist—Iron sulfate—How glycerin is made—Soap—Saltpeter—Sulphuric acid—Nitric acid—The new falls.

THE next day, the 7th of May, Cyrus Smith and Gideon Spilett, leaving Neb to prepare breakfast, climbed to Grand View Plateau, while Herbert and Pencroff went up the river in order to renew the provision of wood.

The engineer and the reporter soon arrived at this small beach situated at the southern point of the lake where the amphibian was stranded. Already flocks of birds were attacking the mass of flesh and it was necessary to drive them away with stones because Cyrus Smith wanted to save the fat from the dugong and use it for the needs of the colony. As to the flesh of the animal, it would not fail to furnish excellent nourishment. In certain Malay regions, it is especially reserved for the tables of the native princes. But that was Neb’s affair.

At the moment Cyrus Smith had other thoughts in mind. He had not forgotten the previous day’s incident nor had he stopped thinking about it. He wished to pierce the mystery of this underwater combat and to know what kind of mastodon or other marine monster had given the dugong so strange a wound.

He was there at the edge of the lake, looking and observing, but nothing appeared under the tranquil waters which were glistening under the first rays of the sun.

Near this small beach which held the dugong’s body, the water was not very deep; but on leaving this point the bottom of the lake fell little by little and it was probable that at the center the depth was considerable. The lake could be considered as a large basin which was replenished by the water from Red Creek.

“Well then, Cyrus,” said the reporter, “it seems to me that these waters do not offer anything suspicious.”

“No, my dear Spilett,” replied the engineer, “and I really do not know how to explain yesterday’s incident.”

“I acknowledge,” replied Gideon Spilett, “that the wound given to this amphibian is strange, to say the least, and neither can I explain how Top was so vigorously thrown out of the water. One could really believe that it was a powerful arm that had thrown him in this way and that this same arm had then killed the dugong with a dagger.”

“Yes,” said the engineer, who became thoughtful. “There is something here that I cannot comprehend. But can you either understand, my dear Spilett, in what way I myself was saved, how I was able to pull myself from the waves and cross the dunes? No, isn’t it true? I have a presentiment of some mystery here which we will doubtless discover one day. Let us therefore observe but not dwell on these singular incidents in front of our companions. Let us keep our remarks to ourselves and continue our work.”

As we know, the engineer still had not been able to discover where the overflow of the lake escaped, but although he had never seen any indication that it overflowed, still it was necessary that an opening exist somewhere. Cyrus Smith was now rather surprised to perceive a rather pronounced current which made itself felt at this point. He threw in some small pieces of wood and they rapidly went toward the southern corner. Walking along the bank, he followed this current and he arrived at the southern point of the lake.

A sort of depression was produced in the water there, as if it was abruptly lost in some fissure in the ground.

Cyrus Smith listened, placing his ear at the level of the lake, and he very distinctly heard the noise of a subterranean falls.

“It is there,” he said, getting up, “there that the water discharges, there doubtless by a conduit excavated in the granite mass that the water rejoins the sea, through some cavities which we will use to our benefit. Yes, I will uncover it.”

The engineer cut a long branch, removed its leaves, and plunging it in at the corner between the two banks, he found that there existed an open hole only a foot under the surface of the water. This hole was the opening to the passageway vainly sought until then. The force of the current was such that the branch was torn from the engineer’s hands and disappeared.

“There is no longer any doubt now,” repeated Cyrus Smith. “There is the entrance to the passageway and I will open it.”

“How?” asked Gideon Spilett.

“By lowering the level of the lake by three feet.”

“And how will you lower the level?”

“By making a larger opening than this one.”

“Where, Cyrus?”

“On the part of the bank that is closest to the coast.”

“But it is a bank of granite,” noted the reporter.

“Well,” replied Cyrus Smith, “then I will blow up this granite, and the water, by escaping, will uncover this opening...”

“And form a waterfall which will fall on the beach,” added the reporter.

“A fall which we will utilize,” replied Cyrus. “Come, come!”

The engineer inspired his companion, whose confidence in Cyrus Smith was such that he did not doubt that the enterprise would succeed. Nevertheless, how would he disintegrate this bank of granite rocks without powder and with imperfect instruments? Wasn’t he attacking a problem beyond his resources?

When Cyrus Smith and the reporter returned to the Chimneys, they found Herbert and Pencroff occupied with unloading their wood.

“The woodsmen are finishing up, Mister Cyrus,” said the sailor laughing, “and when you need masons...”

“Masons, no, but chemists ,” replied the engineer.

“Yes,” added the reporter, “we will blow up the island...”

“Blow up the island!” cried Pencroff.

“A part of it, at any rate,” replied Gideon Spilett.

“Listen to me, my friends,” said the engineer.

And he made known to them the results of his observations. According to him, a more or less considerable cavity existed inside the mass of granite that supported Grand View Plateau and he intended to penetrate it. To do this, it was first necessary to clear the opening through which the water ran, and consequently to lower its level by making a larger opening. To do that, it was necessary to manufacture an explosive substance which could make a large opening at another point of the bank. It was this that Cyrus Smith was going to attempt by means of the minerals which nature had placed at his disposal.

It is needless to tell of the enthusiasm with which everyone, especially Pencroff, greeted this project. To use grand methods, rip open this granite, create a cascade, that appealed to the sailor. And he could just as easily be a chemist as a mason or a bootmaker since the engineer needed chemists. He would be anything that was wanted “even a professor of dance and deportment” he said to Neb, if that was ever necessary.

Neb and Pencroff were first directed to extract the fat from the dugong and to save its flesh, which was intended for food. They soon left without even asking for an explanation. Their confidence in the engineer was absolute.

A few minutes later, Cyrus Smith, Herbert and Gideon Spilett, dragging the hurdle and going up the river, went toward the bed of coal where schistous pyrites abounded. This was located among the more recent transition terrains where Cyrus Smith had already discovered a sample.

The entire day was employed in carting a certain quantity of these pyrites to the Chimneys. By evening they had several tons.

The next day, the 8th of May, the engineer began his manipulations. These schistous pyrites being principally composed of carbon, silicone, aluminum and iron sulphide, the latter in excess, he had to isolate the iron sulphide and transform it into sulphate as quickly as possible. The sulphate obtained, he could then extract sulphuric acid.

This in fact was the goal to be attained. Sulphuric acid is one of the most used agents, and the industrial importance of a nation can be measured by the consumption which is made of it. Later this acid would be very useful to the colonists in making candles, in the tanning of pelts, etc., but at the moment the engineer was reserving it for another use.

Cyrus Smith chose a location behind the Chimneys where the ground was carefully leveled. On this ground he placed a pile of branches and chopped wood on top of which were placed lumps of schistous pyrites supporting one another. Then he covered everything with a thin layer of pyrites previously reduced to walnut size.

That done, they set fire to the wood and the schists began to burn since they contained carbon and sulphur. Then new layers of crushed pyrites were put on to form an enormous pile. The exterior was covered with earth and grass after they had arranged some air vents, as if they were carbonizing a stack of wood to make charcoal.

Then they let the transformation proceed of its own accord and it needed not less than ten to twelve days for the iron sulphide to change into iron sulphate and the aluminum into aluminum sulphate, two substances equally soluble, the others, silicon, charcoal and cinders not being so.

While this chemical activity was going on, Cyrus Smith proceeded with other operations which were tackled by more than zeal. It was determination.

Neb and Pencroff had removed the fat from the dugong and collected it in large earthen jars. They now had to isolate one of its elements, glycerin, by saponifying it. Now to obtain this result, it suffices to treat it with soda or with lime. In fact, one or the other of these substances, after having attacked the grease, would form a soap thereby isolating the glycerin and it was precisely this glycerin that the engineer wished to obtain. As we know, lime was not lacking, but the treatment with lime would only give a lime soap, which was insoluble and consequently useless, whereas the treatment with soda would furnish, on the contrary, a soluble soap which would find use for domestic cleaning. Now, as a practical man, Cyrus Smith would rather try to obtain the soda. Was this difficult? No, because marine plants abounded on the shore, salicornia, ficoids and all those fucaceae which form the seaweed and the wrack. They therefore collected a large quantity of these plants, dried them first and burnt them in a pit in the open air. The combustion of these plants was kept up for several days so that the rising heat would fuze the cinders. The result of this incineration was a compact grayish mass, which for a long time has been known under the name of “natural soda.”

This result obtained, the engineer treated the grease with the soda, which gave on the one hand a soluble soap, and on the other hand this neutral substance, glycerin.

But this was not all. In view of his future preparation, Cyrus Smith still needed another substance, nitrate of potash, which is better known under the name of potassium nitrate, or saltpeter.

Cyrus Smith would have been able to make this substance by treating potassium carbonate, which is easily extracted from the cinders of plants, using nitric acid. But nitric acid was lacking and it was precisely this acid that he wished to obtain in the end. It was therefore a vicious circle that he would never leave. Very fortunately this time, nature furnished him with the saltpeter without which he would have been at quite a loss. Herbert discovered a bed in the north of the island at the foot of Mount Franklin, and they had nothing more to do but to purify this salt.

These various activities lasted for about eight days. They were finished before the transformation of the sulphide into iron sulphate was completed. During the days which followed, the colonists had time to make refractory pottery from plastic clay and to construct a brick furnace for the specific purpose of distilling the iron sulphate when that would be obtained. All this was completed about the 18th of May, a little before the chemical transformations were ended. Gideon Spilett, Herbert, Neb and Pencroff, ably directed by the engineer, became the most skillful workmen in the world. Of all masters, necessity is moreover the one that we listen to the most, and the one that teaches best.

When the pile of pyrites had been entirely reduced by the fire, the result of the operation consisted of iron sulphate, aluminum sulphate, silica, and a residue of charcoal and cinders which were placed in a basin full of water. They shook this mixture, let it settle, then on decanting it they obtained a clear liquid containing a solution of iron sulphate and aluminum sulphate, the other materials remaining as solids since they are insoluble. Finally, this liquid was vaporized in part, depositing the iron sulphate crystals. The original liquid, that is to say the nonvaporized portion which contained the aluminum sulphate, was abandoned.

Cyrus Smith thus had at his disposal a rather large quantity of iron sulphate crystals from which he would obtain sulphuric acid.

In industrial practice the manufacture of sulphuric acid requires a costly installation. In fact, it is necessary to have a large plant, special equipment, platinum apparatus, lead chambers which are not attacked by the acid in which to perform the operation, etc. The engineer did not have this equipment available but he knew that in Bohemia particularly they make sulphuric acid by a more simple means which also has the advantage of producing a high degree of concentration. It is known under the name of Nordhausen acid.

To obtain sulphuric acid, Cyrus Smith had only one operation to perform, to burn the iron sulphate crystals in a closed vessel so that the sulphuric acid would distill in a vapor and the vapor would then produce the acid by condensation.

For this manipulation they used the refractory pottery, in which they placed the crystals, and the forge, whose heat would distill the sulphuric acid. The operation was conducted perfectly and on the 20th of May, twelve days after having begun, the engineer possessed the agent that he counted on using later in various ways.

Now why did he want to have this agent? Very simply to produce nitric acid which was easy since the saltpeter, attacked by the sulphuric acid, would give him precisely this acid by distillation.

But finally what would he do with this nitric acid? His companions were still ignorant of this because he did not tell them about this last operation.

However, the engineer was within sight of his goal and one last operation would give him the substance that had taken so much effort.

After having taken the nitric acid and placed it in the presence of the glycerin, which had been previously concentrated by evaporation using a boiler, he obtained, even without using a cooler, several pints of an oily and yellowish liquid.

This last operation Cyrus Smith performed alone in a remote place far from the Chimneys because it presented the dangers of explosion, and when he brought a container of this liquid to his friends, he was content to say to them:

“This is nitroglycerin.”

“This is nitroglycerin.”

It was, in fact, this terrible product whose explosive power is perhaps tenfold that of ordinary powder and which has already caused so many accidents. Nevertheless, the means has since been found to transform it into dynamite, that is to say to mix it with a rather porous solid substance, clay or sugar, to retain it, so that the dangerous liquid can be used with more security. But dynamite was not yet known at the time the colonists were working on Lincoln Island.

“And it is this liquid which will blow up our rock?” asked Pencroff, rather incredulously.

“Yes, my friend,” replied the engineer, “and this nitroglycerin will produce such an effect that this extremely hard granite will be opposed by a larger explosive force.”

“And when will we see this, Mister Cyrus?”

“Tomorrow, after we have dug a hole for a mine,” replied the engineer.

The next day, the 21st of May, at daybreak, the miners returned to the point which was formed by the banks of Lake Grant and only five hundred feet from the coast. At this spot, the plateau was lower than the water which was held in place only by the granite frame. It was therefore evident that if they broke this frame, the water would escape by this opening and form a stream which, after flowing on the inclined surface of the plateau, would fall on the beach. This would then lower the general level of the lake which would uncover the opening of the passageway which was their final goal.

It was therefore the frame that they must break. Under the engineer’s direction, Pencroff, armed with a pick which he handled skillfully and vigorously, attacked the granite on its exterior face. The hole that he made took shape on a horizontal edge of the bank, excavated obliquely to produce a level appreciably lower than the water of the lake. In this way the explosive force would break the rock, permitting the water to escape freely to the outside and consequently lower its level sufficiently.

Pencroff, armed with a pick...

The work took a long time because the engineer, wanting to produce a formidable effect, did not count on using less than ten liters of nitroglycerin for the operation. But Pencroff, relieved by Neb, did so well that by about four o’clock in the afternoon, the hole for the mine was finished.

There still remained the problem of igniting the explosive substance. Ordinarily nitroglycerin is ignited by means of a fulminate primer which, on bursting, sets off the explosion. In fact, a shock is needed to provoke the explosion, and if it is simply set aflame, this substance will burn without exploding.

Cyrus Smith would certainly have been able to make a primer. In default of fulminate, he could easily obtain a substance analogous to cottonpowder, since he had nitric acid available. This substance, pressed into a cartridge and introduced into the nitroglycerin, would ignite by means of a fuze and set off the explosion.

But Cyrus Smith knew that nitroglycerin has the property of detonating under shock. He therefore resolved to utilize this property, but he would use another means if this one did not succeed.

In fact, the shock from a hammer on a few drops of nitroglycerin sprinkled on the surface of a hard stone suffices to induce the explosion. But the operator cannot be there to give the blow of the hammer without becoming victim to the operation. Cyrus Smith then thought of suspending a mass of iron weighing several pounds onto a post above the hole of the mine by means of a vegetable fiber. Another long fiber, previously dipped in sulphur, was attached by one of its extremities to the middle of the first fiber while the other extremity trailed along the ground to a distance of several feet from the hole of the mine. The fire being kindled to this second fiber, it would burn until it reached the first. This one, then catching fire in its turn, would break and the mass of iron would fall on the nitroglycerin.

This apparatus was so installed; then the engineer, after having dismissed his companions, filled the hole of the mine so that the nitroglycerin came up to the top and he threw a few drops on the surface of the rock below the suspended mass of iron.

That done, Cyrus Smith took the end of the sulphurized fiber, lit it, and leaving the place, he returned to his companions in the Chimneys.

And, leaving the place, Cyrus Smith...

The fiber was set to burn for twenty five minutes and, in fact, twenty five minutes later an explosion resounded, impossible to describe. It seemed that the entire island trembled on its base. Rocks flew up as if vomited from a volcano. The vibration produced by the displaced air was such that the rocks at the Chimneys oscillated. The colonists, even though they were more than two miles from the mine, were thrown to the ground.

They got up, climbed to the plateau and ran to the spot where the edge of the lake had been ripped open by the explosion...

Three hurrahs escaped from their chests. The granite frame split over a large area. A rapid stream of water was escaping through it, flowing and foaming across the plateau, and upon reaching the crest it fell from a height of three hundred feet on to the beach.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Castaways from the Sky

Chapter XVIII

Pencroff no longer doubts anything—The old overflow of the lake—A subterranean descent—The passage through the granite—Top disappears—The central cavern—The lower well—Mystery—A blow from the pick—The return.

CYRUS SMITH'S project had succeeded; but following his custom he remained immobile, without showing any satisfaction, his lips tight, his gaze steady. Herbert was enthusiastic; Neb jumped for joy; Pencroff swayed his large head and murmured these words:

“Our engineer does well.”

In fact, the nitroglycerin had acted powerfully. The drain from the lake was so large that the volume of water which now escaped by this new passage was at least triple that which had formerly passed through the old way. The result was that in a short period of time after the operation, the level of the lake was lowered by at least two feet.

The colonists returned to the Chimneys in order to take picks, iron tipped spears, fiber cords, flint and tinder; they then returned to the plateau. Top accompanied them.

On the way, the sailor could not refrain from saying to the engineer:

“Do you know, Mister Cyrus, that by means of this charming liquid that you have made, we could blow up our entire island?”

“Without a doubt, the island, continents and the Earth itself,” replied Cyrus Smith. “It is only a question of quantity.”

“Can’t you then use this nitroglycerin to load any weapons?” asked the sailor.

“No, Pencroff, because it is too quick. But it will be easy to make cotton powder or even ordinary powder since we have nitric acid, saltpeter, sulphur and coal. Unhappily it is the weapons we do not have.”

“Oh, Mister Cyrus,” replied the sailor, “with a little determination...”

Decidedly, Pencroff had erased the word “impossible” from the Lincoln Island dictionary.

The colonists, on arriving at Grand View Plateau, immediately went to the point on the lake near the opening of the old overflow which was now uncovered. The passageway had become practical since the water no longer ran there and it would doubtless be easy to determine its interior arrangement.

In a few moments the colonists reached the lower corner of the lake and a quick glance sufficed to ascertain that the result had been achieved.

In fact, within the granite wall of the lake, and now above the level of the water, the long sought opening appeared. A narrow shoulder, left bare by the retreating water, allowed an entrance. This opening measured about twenty feet in length but only two feet in height. It was like the mouth of a sewer at the end of a pavement. This opening would not allow the colonists an easy passage; but Neb and Pencroff took the pick and in less than an hour they had given it a sufficient height.

The engineer then went near it and discovered that the walls of the passageway, in its upper part, did not show a slope of more than 30 to 35°. It was therefore practical and, provided the decline did not increase, it would be easy to descend to the level of the sea. If, as was very likely, some vast cavern existed inside this granite mass, they would perhaps find some way to use it.

“Well, Mister Cyrus, why are we stopping?” asked the sailor, impatient to venture into the narrow corridor. “You see that Top is already ahead of us.”

“Well,” replied the engineer, “we must see clearly. Neb, go and cut off some resinous branches.”

Neb and Herbert ran toward the banks of the lake, shaded by pines and other green trees, and they soon returned with branches that they formed into torches. These torches were kindled by sparks from the flint and, Cyrus Smith at the head, the colonists entered the dark passageway which had been filled with water not too long ago.

Contrary to what one would expect, the diameter of the passageway increased so that soon the explorers could stand up while descending. The granite walls, in contact with water for an immeasurable time, were slippery, so they had to guard against falls. The colonists were tied to one another by a cord as is done by mountain climbers. Happily, a few granite ledges, forming real steps, rendered the descent less perilous. Some drops, still suspended from the rocks, were iridescent under the flames of the torches, and it seemed that the walls were covered with innumerable stalactites. The engineer observed this black granite. He saw not a stratum, not a geological fault. The mass was compact and of an extremely close grain. This passageway dated from the very origin of the island. It was not the water which little by little had hollowed it. Pluto and not Neptune had bored it and on the wall they could distinguish traces of eruptive activity which the flow of water had not been able to erase completely.

The colonists descended only very slowly. They were not without a certain emotion in venturing thus into the depths of this mass which human beings were evidently visiting for the first time. They did not speak but reflected and the thought came to more than one of them that some octopus or other gigantic cephalopod could occupy these interior cavities which found communication with the sea. It was hence necessary to venture forth with a certain prudence.

The colonists descended slowly.

Besides, Top was at the head of this small troop and they could depend on the dog’s sagacity. He would not fail to give the alarm should it be required.

After having descended about a hundred feet, following a rather winding path, Cyrus Smith, who was ahead, stopped and his companions joined him. The spot where they had stopped was hollowed out, forming a cavern of moderate dimension. Drops of water fell from its arch but this did not prove any leak through the mass. It was simply the last traces left by the torrent which had roared so long through this cavity. The somewhat humid air did not emit any noxious emanation.

“Well, my dear Cyrus,” Gideon Spilett then said. “Here is an unknown retreat well hidden in these depths but, in sum, it is uninhabitable.”

“Why uninhabitable?” asked the sailor.

“Because it is too small and too dark.”

“Can we not enlarge it, hollow it out and make openings to let in daylight and air,” replied Pencroff, who no longer doubted anything.

“Let us continue,” replied Cyrus Smith. “Let us continue our exploration. Perhaps lower down nature will have saved us this work.”

“We are still only a third of the way down,” Herbert noted.

“About a third,” replied Cyrus Smith, “because we have descended about a hundred feet from the opening and it is not impossible that a hundred feet lower down...”

“Where is Top?...” asked Neb, interrupting his master.

They searched the cavern. The dog was not there.

“He probably continued along the path,” said Pencroff.

“Let us join him,” replied Cyrus Smith.

The descent was resumed. The engineer carefully observed the deviations of the passageway and, in spite of the detours, he could rather easily render an account of its general direction, which went toward the sea.

The colonists had gone down about another fifty feet, measured perpendicularly, when their attention was drawn to some remote sounds which came from the depths of the mass. They stopped and listened. These sounds, carried along the corridor like a voice across an acoustical tube, reached the ear clearly.

“It is Top’s barks!” cried Herbert.

“Yes,” replied Pencroff, “and our worthy dog barks furiously.”

“We have our iron tipped spears,” said Cyrus Smith. “Let us be on guard and advance.”

“This is getting to be more and more interesting,” murmured Gideon Spilett into the ear of the sailor, who made an affirmative sign.

Cyrus Smith and his companions ran to the dog’s assistance. Top’s barking became more and more perceptible. They sensed in his staccato voice a strange rage. Was he at grips with some animal whose retreat he had disturbed? One could say that the colonists were now possessed by an irresistible curiosity and not thinking of the danger to which they were exposed. They were not merely descending the corridor, they could say that they were gliding along its sides and in a few minutes, sixty feet lower down, they rejoined Top.

There the corridor materialized into a vast and magnificent cavern. There Top, coming and going, barked furiously. Pencroff and Neb, shaking their torches, threw light into every crevice of the granite while Cyrus Smith, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, spears in position, were ready for any eventuality.

The enormous cavern was empty. The colonists went through all of it. There was nothing there, not an animal, not a living being. Nevertheless, Top continued to bark. Neither caresses nor threats could silence him.

“There must be some outlet through which the lake’s water reaches the sea,” said the engineer.

“In fact,” replied Pencroff, “we should take care not to fall into a hole.”

“Go, Top, go!” shouted Cyrus Smith.

The dog, excited by his master’s words, ran toward the extremity of the cavern and there his barking redoubled.

They followed him and, by the light of the torches, the orifice of a real well appeared opening into the granite. It was here that the water left after having entered the granite mass but this time there was no longer an oblique and practical corridor but a perpendicular well into which it was impossible to venture.

The torches were inclined over the orifice. They saw nothing. Cyrus Smith detached a flaming branch and threw it into the abyss. The resinous fragment, burning brighter because of the rapidity of its fall, illuminated the inside of the well, but still nothing appeared. Then the flame extinguished with a slight simmer, indicating that it had reached the layer of water, that is to say, sea level.

The engineer, calculating the time of fall, was able to estimate the depth of the well, which he found to be about ninety feet.

The floor of the cavern was therefore situated at ninety feet above sea level.

“Here is our dwelling,” said Cyrus Smith.

“But it was occupied by some creature,” replied Gideon Spilett, who did not find his curiosity satisfied.

“Well, whatever this creature, amphibian or otherwise, it has fled by this opening,” replied the engineer, “and he has surrendered this place to us.”

“Never mind,” added the sailor. “I would like to be Top for a quarter of an hour because he does not bark without reason.”

Cyrus Smith looked at his dog and those of his companions who were near him would have heard him murmur these words:

“Yes, I really believe that Top knows a lot more about these things than we do.”

However, the needs of the colonists were in large part realized. Chance, aided by the marvelous sagacity of their chief, had happily served them. They had here at their disposal a vast cavern whose size they still could not estimate from the light of the insufficient torches, but it would certainly be easy to divide it into rooms, by means of brick partitions, and to adapt it, if not like a house, at least into a spacious apartment. The water had abandoned it and could not return. The place was vacant.

Two difficulties remained: first, the question of lighting this excavation hollowed out in a solid block; second the need for easier access. As to illumination, they could not dream of establishing it from above because of the enormous thickness of granite above them; but perhaps they could pierce the outer wall which faced the sea. Cyrus Smith who, during the descent, had measured the obliquity approximately, and consequently the length of the passageway, was led to believe that the outside wall could not be very thick. If illumination was obtained in this way, there would also be access, because it would be just as easy to make a door and an outside ladder as to make windows.

Cyrus Smith shared his ideas with his companions.

“To work then, Mister Cyrus,” replied Pencroff. “I have my pick and I will know how to bring daylight through this wall. Where should I strike?”

“Here,” replied the engineer, indicating to the vigorous sailor a rather considerable recess in the wall which would diminish the thickness.

Pencroff attacked the granite and for a half hour, by the light of the torches, he made the splinters fly around him. The rock sparkled under his pick. Neb relieved him, then Gideon Spilett after Neb.

The work had already lasted for two hours and they began to believe that the wall at this spot exceeded the length of the pick when, with a last blow given by Gideon Spilett, the instrument passed through the wall and fell outside.

“Hurrah! Forever and ever hurrah!” cried Pencroff.

The wall there measured only three feet in thickness.

Cyrus Smith placed his eye against the opening, which overlooked the ground from a height of eighty feet. The beach extended before him, the islet, and beyond that the immense sea.

This opening was rather large because the rock had disintegrated significantly. Light flooded in and produced a magical effect, inundating this splendid cavern. If, on its left side, it did not measure more than thirty feet in height and in width and a hundred feet in length, on its right side, in contrast, it was enormous and its dome was rounded at a height of more than eighty feet. In some places irregularly disposed granite pillars supported springers like those of the nave of a cathedral. Resting on sort of lateral columns, here overlayed with arches, there rising on ogival ribs, lost in obscure bays whose capricious arches they could barely see in the shadows, ornamented by a profusion of ledges which were formed like so many pendants, this vault offered a picturesque mixture of all the Byzantine, Roman and Gothic architecture produced by the hand of man. But this nevertheless, was only the work of nature. It alone had hollowed out this fairylike Alhambra into this massif of granite.

This dome was similar to a nave of a cathedral.

The colonists were stupefied with admiration. Where they had expected to find only a narrow cavity, they found a marvelous palace and Neb took off his hat as if he had been transported into a temple.

Cries of admiration were heard from all lips. Hurrahs resounded as echo upon echo were repeated and lost in the depths of the somber naves.

“Ah, my friends,” cried Cyrus Smith. “When we light up the interior of this massif, when we have arranged our rooms and our stores on the left side, this splendid cavern will still remain, which will be our study hall and our museum.”

“And we will call it?...” asked Herbert.

“Granite House,” replied Cyrus Smith, a name which his companions greeted with more of their hurrahs.

At this moment, the torches were nearly entirely consumed and since they must ascend the corridor in order to return to the summit of the plateau, it was decided to postpone for the next day the labors relating to the arrangements in the new dwelling.

Before leaving, Cyrus Smith leaned once more over the somber pit which was hollowed out perpendicularly down to the level of the sea. He listened carefully. There was no noise, not even from the water whose surging vibrations sometimes agitate these depths. A burning resin was once more thrown in. The walls of the pit were lit up for a moment but, like the first time, it revealed nothing suspicious. If some marine monster had been unexpectedly surprised by the retreat of the water, he had by now regained the open sea by means of the subterranean passageway that went under the beach, a path followed by the overflow from the lake before a new outlet was offered to it.

The engineer, however, remained immobile, listening carefully and looking into the gulf. He did not say a word.

The sailor then approached him and touched him.

“Mister Smith?” he said.

“What do you wish, my friend?” replied the engineer, as if returning from the land of dreams.

“The torches will soon be extinguished.”

“Let’s go,” replied Cyrus Smith.

The small troop left the cavern and began to climb up the somber passageway. Top was at the rear still making those singular growls. The climb was a rather steep one. The colonists stopped for several moments at the upper grotto which formed a sort of landing at the midpoint of this long granite stairway. Then they began to climb again.

Soon they felt fresher air. The drops, dried by evaporation, no longer scintillated on the walls. The light from the fading torches became smoky. The one carried by Neb was extinguished and, in order not to venture in profound darkness, they must hurry.

This was done and a little before four o’clock, just as the sailor’s torch was extinguished in its turn, Cyrus Smith and his companions emerged from the passageway.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Castaways from the Sky

Chapter XIX

Cyrus Smith's plan—The front of Granite House—The cord ladder—Pencroff's daydreams—Aromatic herbs—A natural warren—Diverting the water for the needs of the new dwelling—The view from the windows of Granite House.

THE next day, the 22nd of May, they began working on the special arrangements for the new dwelling. In fact, the exchange of their insufficient shelter at the Chimneys for this vast and sound retreat cut into solid rock and sheltered from the waters of sea and sky, was long overdue. The Chimneys, however, would not be entirely abandoned and it was the engineer’s plan to make it into a workshop for heavier work.

Cyrus Smith’s first concern was to discover the precise position of Granite House from the outside. He went to the beach, to the foot of the enormous wall and, as the pick on escaping from the reporter’s hands had to fall perpendicularly, it sufficed to recover the pick in order to discover the place where the hole had been pierced in the granite.

The pick was easily found and in fact there was an opening about eighty feet perpendicularly above the point on the shore where it had been driven into the sand. Some rock pigeons were already entering and leaving by this narrow opening. It really seemed that Granite House was discovered just for them.

It was the engineer’s intention to divide the right side of the cavern into several rooms, preceded by an entrance corridor, and to light it by means of five windows and a door pierced in the facade. Pencroff readily admitted the need for five windows but he could not understand the need for the door since the old passageway offered a natural staircase by which it would always be easy to have access into Granite House.

“My friend,” Cyrus Smith replied to him, “if it will be easy for us to reach our dwelling by the passageway, it will be equally easy for others to do so. I intend, on the contrary, to obstruct the passageway at its opening, to seal it hermetically and, if necessary, to completely conceal the entrance by raising the water of the lake with a dam.”

“And how will we enter?” asked the sailor.

“By an outside ladder,” replied Cyrus Smith, “a cord ladder, which once drawn up will render access to our dwelling impossible.”

“But why so many precautions?” said Pencroff. “So far, the animals don’t seem to be very formidable. As to natives, the island has none.”

“Are you sure of it, Pencroff?” asked the engineer, looking at the sailor.

“We will evidently be sure of it when we have explored all its parts,” replied Pencroff.

“Yes,” said Cyrus Smith, “we still know only a small portion of it. But in any case, if we have no enemies from within, they can come from outside because these parts of the Pacific are dangerous parts. Let us therefore take precautions against all eventualities.”

Cyrus Smith spoke wisely and without making any further objection Pencroff prepared to execute his orders.

The front of Granite House would thus be lighted by means of five windows and a door to serve what constituted “the apartment” properly called. A large bay window and a “bull’s eye” window would permit light to enter profusely into this marvellous nave which would serve as a large hall. This front, at eighty feet above the ground, was exposed to the east and the rising sun greeted it with its first rays. It was situated on that portion of the facade between the salient forming corner at the mouth of the Mercy and a line drawn perpendicularly above the pile of rocks which formed the Chimneys. Thus the strong winds, that is to say those from the northeast, would only strike it aslant because it was protected by the orientation of the salient. However, until the window frames were made, the engineer intended to close the openings with thick shutters which would allow neither the wind nor the rain to pass through and which could be concealed if need be.

The first job consisted of hollowing out these openings. Using a pick on this hard rock would have been very slow and it is known that Cyrus Smith was a man of spectacular methods. He still had a certain quantity of nitroglycerin and he put it to good use. The effect of the explosive was properly localized and under its force the granite was broken at the very places chosen by the engineer. Then the pick and the pickaxe completed the ogival design of the five windows, the spacious bay window, the bull’s eye window and the door. They straightened out the frames, whose profiles were rather capricious and, several days after the beginning of these works, Granite House was generously lighted by the light of the rising sun which penetrated its most secret recesses.

Following the plan devised by Cyrus Smith, the apartment would be divided into five compartments having a view of the sea. To the right, an entrance served by a door to which the ladder was attached, then a main kitchen thirty feet wide, a dining room measuring forty feet, a dormitory of equal size, and finally a “guest room”, called for by Pencroff, which was at the edge of the Grand Hall.

These rooms, or rather this suite of rooms which formed the apartment of Granite House, would not occupy all the space of the cavern. There would be a central corridor and a large storehouse into which utensils, provisions and reserves would easily find a place. All the products gathered on the island, the flora as well as the fauna, would be there in an excellent condition of conservation, and completely sheltered from the dampness. There was no lack of space and each item would be placed methodically. Beyond that, the colonists still had the small grotto situated above the large cavern, which would be like the garret of the new dwelling.

This plan decided on, it remained only to put it into execution. The miners became bricklayers once again. The bricks were carried and placed at the foot of Granite House.

Until then Cyrus Smith and his companions had access to the cavern only through the old passageway. This mode of communication obliged them first to climb to Grand View Plateau after making a detour at the bank of the river, to descend two hundred feet by the corridor and then to climb up again when they wanted to return to the plateau. That way time was lost with considerable fatigue. Cyrus Smith hence resolved without delay to make a sturdy cord ladder which, once drawn up, would render the entrance to Granite House completely inaccessible.

This ladder was made with extreme care. Its sides, which were formed of juncus fibers and woven with a wheel, had the strength of a thick cable. As to its rungs, they were made of the light but tough branches of the red cedar. The apparatus was made by the master hand of Pencroff.

Other cords were made with vegetable fibers in the same way and a sort of large pulleyblock was installed at the door. In this way the bricks could be easily lifted to the level of Granite House. The transport of material was very simplified and the interior arrangements, properly called, soon began. There was no lack of lime and several thousand bricks were there, ready to be used. They easily set up the woodwork of the partitions, in a very rudimentary way of course, and in a very short time the apartment was divided into rooms and into a storehouse according to the plan agreed upon.

These various works proceeded rapidly under the direction of the engineer, who himself handled the hammer and the trowel. No manual activity was a stranger to Cyrus Smith, who thereby gave an example to his intelligent and zealous companions. They worked with confidence, even merrily, Pencroff always with a funny word, sometimes as a carpenter, sometimes as a rope maker, sometimes mason, and communicating his good humor to all of this small colony. His faith in the engineer was absolute. Nothing could shake it. He believed him capable of undertaking everything and succeeding at everything. The question of clothing and shoes—assuredly a serious question—that of light during the winter nights, the exploitation of the fertile portions of the island, the transformation of this wild vegetation into cultivated vegetation, everything seemed easy to him, Cyrus Smith helping, and everything would be done in its time. He daydreamt of canals to facilitate the transport of the soil’s riches, of exploiting quarries and working mines, of machines suitable for every industrial practice, of railroads, yes, of railroads whose network would certainly cover Lincoln Island one day.

The engineer let Pencroff speak. He did not contradict the exaggerations of this brave heart. He well knew that confidence is catching. He even smiled to hear him speak and said nothing about the anxieties he sometimes had about the future. In fact, in this part of the Pacific, outside the ship lanes, he feared that they would never be rescued. It was thus on themselves, on themselves alone that the colonists must count, because the distance from Lincoln Island to any other land was such that to risk themselves in a boat of necessarily mediocre construction would be a serious and perilous thing.

But, as the sailor said, they had accomplished a hundred times more than the Robinsons of a bygone time, for whom everything was done miraculously.

And, in fact, they had knowledge, and the man who had knowledge would succeed where others would vegetate and inevitably perish.

During these activities Herbert distinguished himself. He was intelligent and active, he learned quickly, worked well, and Cyrus Smith attached himself more and more to this lad. Herbert had a vivid and respectful regard for the engineer. Pencroff saw the close sympathy that formed between these two beings but he was not jealous of it.

Neb was Neb. He was what he would always be, courageous, zealous, devoted, abnegation personified. He had the same faith in his master as Pencroff but he manifested it less noisily. When the sailor was enthusiastic, Neb always took an attitude as if to say “but nothing is more natural.” Pencroff and he liked each other and were not long in becoming friends.

As to Gideon Spilett, he took part in the common work and he was not the most awkward one which always astonished the sailor a little. “A clever ‘journalist’ who not only understands everything, but can do everything!”

The ladder was finally installed on the 28th of May. There were no less than a hundred rungs for this perpendicular height of eighty feet. Fortunately, Cyrus Smith had been able to divide it into two parts, profiting from an overhang in the wall which made a ledge forty feet above the ground. This ledge, carefully leveled with a pick, became a sort of landing on which they fixed the first ladder, whose swinging was thus diminished by half, and a cord permitted it to be raised to the level of Granite House. As to the second ladder, its lower end was also attached to the ledge, but its upper end was connected to the door itself. In this way, getting up was notably easier. Besides, Cyrus Smith counted on later installing a hydraulic lift, which would do away with all fatigue and all time lost by the inhabitants of Granite House.

The ladder was finally installed.

The colonists promptly became accustomed to the use of this ladder. They were nimble and skillful and Pencroff, since he was a sailor, accustomed to climbing the ratlines of the shrouds, was able to give them lessons. But it was necessary to give Top lessons also. The poor dog, with his four feet, was not made for this exercise. But Pencroff was so zealous a teacher that Top ended by being able to climb the ladder as well as his peers in the circus. It need not be said that the sailor was proud of his pupil. Nevertheless, more than once Pencroff put him on his back for which Top never complained.

It should be noted here that during these works, which were actively carried on because the bad season was approaching, the question of food had not been neglected. The reporter and Herbert definitely became purveyors to the colony, devoting several hours every day to hunting. They still only exploited Jacamar Woods on the left of the river because they still could not cross the Mercy without a bridge or a boat. All of these immense forests to which they had given the name of Forests of the Far West, had not at all been explored. They reserved this important excursion for the first good days of the coming spring. But Jacamar Woods was full of game; kangaroos and wild boar abounded and the hunters did wonders with the iron tipped spears and the bow and arrows. In addition, Herbert discovered a natural warren near the southwest corner of the lagoon, a sort of slightly wet meadow covered with willows and aromatic herbs which perfumed the air, herbs such as thyme, serpolet, basil, savory, and all fragrant species of the labiate family which rabbits are so fond of.

The reporter noted that since the table was served with things for rabbits, it would be astonishing if there were no rabbits. The two hunters carefully explored this warren. In any case, it produced an abundance of useful plants and a naturalist would have had a good opportunity there to study specimens of the vegetable kingdom. Herbert therefore collected a certain quantity of basil shoots, rosemary, melissa, betony, etc., which possessed various therapeutic properties for use as cough mixtures, astringents, antifebriles, others antispasmodics, or antirhumatics. And when later, Pencroff asked about this collection of herbs:

“To take care of us,” replied the lad, “to treat us when we are ill.”

“Since there are no doctors on the island, why should we be sick?” replied Pencroff, very seriously.

To this there was nothing to reply but the lad nonetheless made his collection, which was very well received at Granite House. He was able to add to this stock of medicinal plants a quantity of didymous monardas which are known in North America under the name of “Oswego Tea,” producing an excellent beverage.

Finally that day, on looking carefully, the two hunters arrived at the true location of the warren. The ground was riddled with holes.

“Burrows!” cried Herbert.

“Yes,” replied the reporter, “I see them well.”

“But are they inhabited?”

“That is the question.”

The question was not long in resolving itself. Almost at once, hundreds of small animals resembling rabbits fled in all directions, and with such speed that even Top could not overtake them. Hunters and dog were soon out of breath and these rodents easily escaped them. But the reporter resolved not to leave the place before having captured at least half a dozen of these quadrupeds. He wanted first to supply the pantry and then to domesticate those which they would take later. With several nooses spread at the openings of the burrows, the operation could not fail to succeed. But at the moment they had neither nooses nor a way to make them. They hence had to resign themselves to visiting each refuge, to pry with a stick and to do with patience what they could not do in any other way.

Hundreds of small animals...

Finally, after an hour of digging, four rodents were taken. They were rabbits resembling their European congeners and who are commonly known under the name of “American Rabbits.”

The result of the hunt was brought to Granite House and was a part of the evening meal. The hosts of this warren were not scorned because they were delicious. This was a precious resource for the colony, one which seemed to be inexhaustible.

On the 31st of May, the partitions were completed. Nothing remained but to furnish the rooms, which would be the work for the long winter. A chimney was built in the first room which served as the kitchen. The tube, designed to conduct the smoke outside, gave some work for the improvised chimney makers. It seemed simpler to Cyrus Smith to make it out of brick clay. Since he could not dream of making an opening to the upper plateau, they excavated a hole through the granite above the window of the aforementioned kitchen and it was through this hole that the pipe was obliquely placed with a top like that of an iron stove. Perhaps, even doubtless, the chimney would smoke when the strong winds would beat directly against the facade, but these winds were rare and besides, Master Neb, the cook, did not mind it.

When these interior arrangements had been finished, the engineer occupied himself with closing the opening of the old passageway which ended at the lake, in a way to prevent any access by this means. Lumps of rocks were hauled to the opening and firmly cemented. Cyrus Smith still had not begun the project of drowning this orifice under the water of the lake by returning them to their former level with a dam. He contented himself with concealing the obstruction with grass, bushes and brushwood which were planted in the crevices of the rocks and which would develop exuberantly next spring.

Nevertheless, he used the overflow in a way to bring a stream of sweet water into the new dwelling. A small groove, made below level, produced this result, and this diversion of a pure and inexhaustible source gave an output of twenty five to thirty gallons a day.[1] Water would never be lacking at Granite House.

A small groove...

Finally, everything was completed and it was time because the bad season arrived. Thick shutters allowed them to close the windows of the facade while waiting for the time when the engineer could make plate glass.

Gideon Spilett, being artistically inclined, planted various species of plants and long flowing grass on the rock ledges and around the windows. In this fashion the openings were enclosed in a picturesque greenery producing a charming effect.

The inhabitants of this solid, safe and secure dwelling could only be enchanted with their work. The windows gave them a view which extended on a limitless horizon from the two Mandible Capes in the north to Cape Claw in the south. All of Union Bay was magnificently unfolded before them. Yes, these brave colonists had grounds for being satisfied and Pencroff spared no praise of what he humorously called his “apartment on the fifth floor above the mezzanine.”

1. The gallon equals about 4½ liters.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Castaways from the Sky

Chapter XX

The rainy season—The question of clothing—A hunt for seals—Making candles—Work inside Granite House—Two bridges—Return visit to the oyster bed—What Herbert finds in his pocket.

THE winter season really began with the month of June, which corresponds to the month of December in the northern hemisphere. It started with showers and squalls which followed each other without intermission. The hosts of Granite House could appreciate the advantages of a dwelling beyond the reach of the harsh weather. The shelter of the Chimneys would really have been insufficient against the rigors of winter and it was to be feared that the high tides, driven on by the winds from the open sea, would make further inroads there. Cyrus Smith even took some precautions to provide for this eventuality in order to preserve, as much as possible, the forge and the furnace which were installed there.

During all of this month of June, the time was employed with various activities which excluded neither hunting nor fishing and the reserves of the pantry were abundantly maintained. Pencroff, as soon as he had the time, proposed to make traps from which he expected great things. He made some collars of ligneous fibers and not a day passed when the warren did not furnish its contingent of rodents. Neb employed nearly all of his time to salt or smoke these meats, which were excellently preserved.

The question of clothing was then very seriously discussed. The colonists had no other clothes than the ones that they wore when the balloon threw them on the island. These clothes were warm and sturdy and by taking care of them, as well as their underwear, they had kept them in perfect condition, but they would soon have to be replaced. If the winter would be rigorous, the colonists would suffer much from the cold.

On this subject the ingenuity of Cyrus Smith was in default. He had to take care first of the most pressing problems, making a dwelling and assuring the food supply. Hence the frost could come on before the question of clothing had been resolved. They would have to resign themselves to passing this first winter without complaining. When the fine season came, they would conduct a serious hunt for those wild sheep whose presence had been noted during the exploration of Mount Franklin and, once the wool was collected, the engineer would be able to make a warm and sturdy material... How? He would think about it.

“Well then, we will be free to roast our legs at Granite House,” said Pencroff. “There’s lots of fuel and no reason to spare it.”

“Besides,” replied Gideon Spilett, “Lincoln Island is not situated at a very high latitude and it is probable that the winters will not be bad here. Didn’t you tell us, Cyrus, that the 35th parallel corresponds to that of Spain in the other hemisphere?”

“Without doubt,” replied the engineer, “but certain winters are very cold in Spain. Snow and ice are not lacking there and Lincoln Island is perhaps also rigorously tried. However, it is an island and as such I hope that the temperature will be more moderate.”

“Why so, Mister Cyrus?” asked Herbert.

“Because the sea, my child, may be considered as an immense reservoir which stores up the heat of the summer. With the coming of winter it returns this heat, which assures a moderate temperature to those regions near oceans, not as high in the summer, but not as low in the winter.”

“We will look forward to it,” replied Pencroff. “I do not trouble myself as to whether it is cold or not. But this is certain, that the days are already short and the evenings long. May we give a little consideration to the question of illumination?”

“Nothing is easier,” replied Cyrus Smith.

“To consider?” asked the sailor.

“To solve.”

“And when do we begin?”

“Tomorrow, by organizing a hunt for seals.”

“To make wax candles?”

“For shame, Pencroff, tallow candles.”

Such was in fact the engineer’s plan, a realistic plan, since he had lime and sulphuric acid and the amphibians of the islet would furnish the fat necessary to make it.

It was the 4th of June, Whit Sunday, and they agreed unanimously to observe this holiday. All work was suspended and prayers were directed to Heaven. But these prayers were now those of thanks. The colonists of Lincoln Island were no longer the unfortunate castaways thrown on the islet. They no longer asked for anything, they gave thanks.

The next day, the 5th of June, amid rather uncertain weather, they left for the islet. It was still necessary to profit from the low tide to cross the channel, and while on this subject, it was agreed that they would construct, for better or for worse, a boat which would make communications easier and also permit them to ascend the Mercy when that important exploration of the southwest of the island would be undertaken during the first fine days.

The seals were numerous and the hunters, armed with their iron tipped spears, easily killed half a dozen. Neb and Pencroff skinned them and only brought to Granite House their fat and their skins, these skins to be made into sturdy footwear.

The result of this hunt was as follows, about three hundred pounds of fat which would be entirely used for making candles.

The operation was extremely simple and, if it did not yield absolutely perfect products, they were nonetheless usable. Cyrus Smith only needed the sulphuric acid. Heating this acid with the neutral fatty material from the seal’s fat would enable him to isolate the glycerin; then, from this new combination, it would be easy to separate the olein, the margarine, and the stearin using boiling water. But in order to simplify the operation he preferred to saponify the fat by means of the lime. He obtained a sort of calcareous soap, easy to decompose with the sulphuric acid, which precipitated as sulphate of lime, freeing the fatty acids.

Of these three acids, olein, margarine, and stearin, the first, being liquid, was driven out by sufficient pressure. As to the other two, they formed the very substance which would be used in molding the candles.

The operation did not last more than twenty four hours. The wicks, after several attempts, were made of vegetable fibers and, soaked in the liquified substance, they formed real stearin candles, molded by hand, lacking only whiteness and polish. They doubtless did not offer the advantages which wicks impregnated with boric acid have of vitrifying themselves as they burn so as to consume themselves entirely; but Cyrus Smith, having made a beautiful pair of snuffers, these candles would be greatly appreciated during the evenings at Granite House.

During all of this month, there was no lack of work on the interior of the new dwelling. The joiners had their work cut out for them. They perfected the tools which were very rudimentary. They also completed their stock.

Some scissors were made among other things and the colonists were finally able to cut their hair and their beards, at least to trim them imaginatively. Herbert had no beard and Neb hardly any, but their companions were so overgrown as to justify the making of the said scissors.

The making of a hand saw cost infinite pain, but finally they obtained an instrument which, when vigorously handled, would cut the ligneous fibers of wood. Thus they made tables, benches and wardrobe cabinets which furnished the main rooms, and bed frames whose bedding consisted entirely of mattresses of seawrack. The kitchen, with its terra cotta utensils resting on shelves, its brick furnace and its stone washstand, had a formal look and Neb operated there as seriously as if he were in a chemist’s laboratory.

But the joiners were soon replaced by carpenters. The new overflow created by the mine made it necessary to construct two bridges, one on Grand View Plateau and the other on the shore itself. In fact, now the plateau and the shore were cut transversely by a watercourse which they had to cross when they wanted to get to the north of the island. To avoid this, the colonists would have been obliged to make a considerable detour and ascend westward to the sources of Red Creek. It was simpler to build two bridges on the plateau and on the shore, twenty to twenty five feet in length. Squaring the trees with an axe was the only carpentry. This was the work of a few days. The bridges built, Neb and Pencroff then profited from them by going to the oyster bed, which had been discovered near the dunes. They hauled with them a sort of large cart which replaced the old very inconvenient hurdle, and they brought back several thousand oysters that quickly acclimatized themselves among the rocks at the mouth of the Mercy, becoming as good as a natural oyster bed. These mollusks were of an excellent quality and the colonists consumed them nearly every day.

As we know, although the inhabitants of Lincoln Island had only explored a small portion of it, the island had already furnished nearly all their needs. And it was likely that, buried in its more secret retreats, over all of this wooded part that extended from the Mercy to Reptile Promontory, it would lavish new treasures.

The colonists of Lincoln Island still had one deprivation. Their diet did not lack protein, nor vegetable products which they modified for their use; the ligneous roots of the dragon trees, subjected to fermentation, gave them a sour beverage, a sort of beer preferable to pure water; they even made sugar, without cane sugar or sugar beets, by collecting this liquid that was distilled as “acer saccharum,” a sort of maple of the aceraceae family, which prospers in all temperate zones and which were abundant on the island; they made a very agreeable tea by using the monarda brought back from the warren; lastly, they had an abundance of salt, the only mineral product which enters into the preparation of food... but they could not make bread.

Perhaps at a later time the colonists would be able to replace this food with some equivalent, the flour of the sago tree or the bread tree, and it was in fact possible that the southern forests had these precious trees, but up to this time they had not encountered them.

However, Providence was able, in this circumstance, to come directly to the colonists’ aid, in an infinitesimal way it is true, but Cyrus Smith, with all his intelligence and all his ingenuity could never have produced that which Herbert, by the greatest chance, found one day in the lining of his vest which he was mending.

On this day it was raining in torrents. The colonists were assembled in the main hall of Granite House when the lad suddenly cried out:

“Well, Mister Cyrus. A grain of corn.”

And he showed his companions a grain, a single grain, which got into the lining of his vest through a hole in his pocket.

The presence of this grain was explained by Herbert’s habit, while in Richmond, of feeding some pigeons that Pencroff had given him.

“A grain of corn?” replied the engineer vividly.

“Yes, Mister Cyrus, but only one, nothing but a single one.”

“Well, my boy,” cried Pencroff, smiling, “we are really getting on. What will we be able to make with this single grain of corn?”

“We will make bread from it,” replied Cyrus Smith.

“Bread, cakes, tarts!” replied the sailor. “Come now! The bread that this grain of corn will furnish will not stuff us soon.”

Herbert, attaching no importance to his discovery, was about to throw away the grain in question, but Cyrus Smith took it, examined it, saw that it was in good condition and looking at the sailor:

“Pencroff,” he asked him tranquilly, “do you know how many ears a grain of corn can produce?”

Do you know how many ears...

“One, I suppose,” replied the sailor, surprised by the question.

“Ten, Pencroff. And do you know how many grains an ear holds?”

“My faith, no.”

“Eighty on the average,” said Cyrus Smith. “Thus, if we plant this grain, at the first harvest we will gather eight hundred grains, which will produce at the second harvest six hundred forty thousand, at the third five hundred twelve million, at the fourth more than four hundred billion grains. There are the proportions.”

Cyrus Smith’s companions listened without replying. These figures stupefied them. They were exact, however.

“Yes, my friends,” continued the engineer. “Such are the geometric progressions of a fertile nature. And yet what is this multiplication of a grain of corn whose ears contain only eight hundred grains, compared to the stems of the poppy which hold thirty two thousand grains or the stems of tobacco, which produce three hundred sixty thousand? In several years, without the numerous destructive causes which arrest their growth, these plants would overrun the entire earth.”

But the engineer had not finished his little interrogation.

“And now, Pencroff,” he continued, “do you know how many bushels four hundred billion grains will yield?”

“No,” replied the sailor, “but what I do know is that I am only a fool.”

“Well, it will make more than three million at a hundred thirty thousand per bushel, Pencroff.”

“Three million!” cried Pencroff.

“Three million.”

“In four years?”

“In four years,” replied Cyrus Smith, “and even in two years if, as I hope, we will be able to obtain two harvests per year at this latitude.”

At this, following his custom, Pencroff could think of no reply other than a formidable hurrah.

“Thus, Herbert,” added the engineer, “you have made an extremely important discovery for us. Everything, my friends, everything can serve us in the condition we find ourselves. I beg you, do not forget it.”

“No, Mister Cyrus, no, we will not forget it,” replied Pencroff, “and if ever I find one of these grains of tobacco which multiplies at three hundred sixty thousand, I assure you that I will not throw it to the wind. And now, do you know what remains to be done?”

“It remains for us to plant this grain,” replied Herbert.

“Yes,” added Gideon Spilett, “and with all the respect due to it because it carries within itself our future harvests.”

“Provided that it grows!” cried the sailor.

“It will grow,” replied Cyrus Smith.

It was the twentieth of June. The moment was thus propitious for sowing this unique and precious grain of corn. They first questioned whether they should plant it in a pot; but after reflection, they decided to very boldly refer it to nature and to entrust it to the earth. This is what was done this very day and needless to say, all precautions were taken to make the operation a success.

The weather having slightly cleared up, the colonists climbed to the heights of Granite House. There, on the plateau, they chose a spot well sheltered from the wind, on which the noonday sun would shed all its warmth. The spot was cleared, carefully weeded, even searched for insects and worms; they placed a layer of good earth on it, enriched with a little lime; they surrounded it with a fence; then the grain was buried in the wet ground.

Did it not seem that the colonists were putting down the first stone of an edifice? This recalled for Pencroff the day when he had to light his single match and all the care that he carried to this operation. But this time the thing was more serious. In fact, the castaways would always have managed to procure fire in one way or another, but no human power could again make this grain of corn if, unfortunately, it should be lost.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Castaways from the Sky

Chapter XXI

Several degrees below zero—Exploration of the marshy part of the southeast—The colpeos—View of the sea—A conversation on the future of the Pacific Ocean— The incessant work of the infusoria—What will become of the globe—The hunt—Tadorn's marsh.

FROM this moment, a day did not pass without Pencroff going to visit what he seriously called his “cornfield.” And woe to the insects that ventured there. No mercy awaited them.

About the end of the month of June, after endless rains, the frost definitely came on, and on the 29th a Fahrenheit thermometer would have registered only 20° above zero (6.67° centigrade below zero).

The next day, June 30th, a day which corresponds to December 31st of the northern year, was a Friday. Neb made the observation that the year ended on a bad day; but Pencroff replied that naturally the next year would begin on a good day, which was better.

In any event, it began with a very brisk frost. Ice floes piled up at the mouth of the Mercy and the lake was not long in becoming frozen along its entire extent.

They renewed their provision of fuel during several breaks in the weather. Pencroff had transported enormous rafts of wood to their destination without waiting for the river to freeze. The current was a tireless motor and it was used to cart the floating wood up to the moment when the frost blocked it. To the fuel furnished so abundantly by the forest, they also added several cartloads of coal for which they had to go to the foot of the buttresses of Mount Franklin. This powerful coal heat was well appreciated during the cold weather which on July 4th fell to 8° Fahrenheit (13° centigrade below zero). A second chimney had been installed in the dining room and there they all worked together.

During this period of frost, Cyrus Smith had to congratulate himself for having diverted a small stream from Lake Grant to Granite House. Drawn as a liquid from under the frozen surface, it was then conducted by the old passageway to an interior reservoir which had been excavated in a corner of the rear storeroom and whose overflow escaped by the well to the sea.

During this period, the weather being extremely dry, the colonists, dressed as well as possible, resolved to devote a day to the exploration of that part of the southeast of the island between the Mercy and Cape Claw. It was a vast marshy terrain which would make for good hunting because of the many aquatic birds there.

They had to count on an eight to nine mile trip to get there as well as to return, and consequently it would take a full day. Since it was also an exploration of an unknown portion of the island, the entire colony took part in it. Hence on the 5th of July, at six in the morning, with dawn barely breaking, Cyrus Smith, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, Neb and Pencroff, armed with spears, collars, bows and arrows, and supplied with sufficient provisions, left Granite House, preceded by Top who skipped about in front of them.

They took the shortest route and the shortest route was to cross the Mercy over the ice floes then blocking it.

The shortest route was to cross the Mercy.

“But,” the reporter justly noted, “this cannot replace a genuine bridge.”

So the construction of a “genuine” bridge was recorded as one of the works for the future.

It was the first time that the colonists set foot on the right bank of the Mercy and they ventured among large and superb conifers which were then covered with snow.

But they had not gone half a mile when, from a thick bush, an entire family of quadrupeds fled from where they lived, provoked to flight by Top’s barks.

“Ah! They could be called foxes!” cried Herbert, when he saw the entire band dash off so quickly.

They were in fact foxes, but foxes of a very large size. They made a sort of barking that astonished Top himself because he stopped in his pursuit and gave these fast animals the time to disappear.

The dog was right to be surprised since he did not know natural history. But by their barks, these foxes with a reddish grey fur and black tails that ended in a white tassel, revealed their origin. Herbert, without hesitating, gave them their true name of “colpeos”. These colpeos are frequently encountered in Chile, the Falkland Islands and in all American localities between the 30th and 40th parallels. Herbert regretted very much that Top had not been able to get hold of one of these carnivores.

“Are they good to eat?” asked Pencroff, who never considered the representatives of the fauna of the island except from his special point of view.

“No,” replied Herbert, “but zoologists have not yet found out if the pupil of these foxes is diurnal or nocturnal and if it isn’t correct to classify them in the genus dog, properly called.”

Cyrus Smith could not prevent a smile on hearing the lad’s thoughts, which attested to a serious mind. As to the sailor, from the moment that these foxes could not be classified in the genus edible, they were of little importance to him. Nevertheless, when a poultry yard would be established at Granite House, it was noted that it would be good to take several precautions against possible visits from these plunderers on four feet. This no one contested.

After having turned Flotsom Point [1], the colonists found a long beach which was washed by the vast sea. It was then eight o’clock in the morning. The sky was very clear such as comes from a prolonged severe frost; but, excited by their journey, Cyrus Smith and his companions did not feel the weather’s sting too vividly. Besides, the wind was not blowing, a circumstance which rendered the low temperature infinitely more bearable. A brilliant sun, but without heating action, then rose from the ocean, its enormous disk balanced on the horizon. The sea formed a tranquil sheet, blue as a Mediterranean gulf when the sky is clear. Cape Claw, curved in the form of a yataghan, was clearly visible about four miles away to the southeast. To the left, the border of the marsh was abruptly interrupted by a small point which the solar rays, at the moment, patterned into a flash of fire. Certainly in this part of Union Bay, with no cover from the open sea, not even a reef of sand, any vessels battered by the winds from the east would find no shelter. They sensed from the tranquility of the sea not disturbed by shallows, from its uniform color which had no trace of a yellowish nuance and from the absence of any reef, that this coast was abrupt and that the ocean covered up a deep abyss there. Behind them in the west, at a distance of four miles, the first line of trees of the forests of the Far West was visible. They could believe, so to speak, that they were on the desolated coast of some Antarctic island that the ice floes had overrun. The colonists stopped here for a meal. A fire was started with brushwood and dry seaweed and Neb prepared a meal of cold meat to which he added several cups of Oswego tea.

While eating, everyone looked around. This part of Lincoln Island was really sterile and contrasted with the entire western region. This led the reporter to make this observation, that if chance had first thrown the castaways on this shore, they would have had a deplorable idea of their future domain.

“I do not think that we would have been able to reach it,” replied the engineer, “because the sea is too deep here and it would offer us no rock on which to take refuge. In front of Granite House at least, there were some reefs, an islet, which multiplied the chances of safety. Here nothing but the abyss.”

“It is rather strange,” noted Gideon Spilett, “that this relatively small island presents such varied terrains. This diversity appears logically only on continents of a certain size. One could truly say that the Western part of Lincoln Island, so rich and so fertile, is washed by the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico and that the shores of the north and the southeast reach out to a sort of Arctic Sea.”

“You are right, my dear Spilett,” replied Cyrus Smith. “That is an observation that I have also made. I find this island strange in its form and in its nature. One would say, in short, that it has all the aspects of a continent, and it would not surprise me if it had been a continent once upon a time.”

“What! A continent in the middle of the Pacific?” cried Pencroff.

“Why not?” replied Cyrus Smith. “Why could not Australia, New Ireland and all that the English geographers call Australasia, united to the archipelagos of the Pacific, have formed in the past a sixth part of the world as important as Europe or Asia, as Africa or the two Americas? I feel that all these islands that emerge from this vast ocean are the summits of a continent which, though now engulfed, was above water in prehistoric times.”

“The way Atlantis once was,” replied Herbert.

“Yes, my child... if it existed.”

“And was Lincoln Island part of this continent?” asked Pencroff.

“That is possible,” replied Cyrus Smith, “and that would explain this diversity of productions that we see on its surface.”

“And the considerable number of animals that still live here,” added Herbert.

“Yes, my child,” replied the engineer, “and you furnish me with a new argument to apply to my thesis. It is certain, from what we have seen, that there are numerous animals on the island and, what is even stranger, that the species are so extremely varied. That is why I think that Lincoln Island could once have been part of some vast continent which little by little sank below the Pacific.”

“Then one fine day,” answered Pencroff, who was not absolutely convinced, “the remainder of this ancient continent will disappear in its turn and there will no longer be anything between America and Asia.”

“Yes,” replied Cyrus Smith, “but there will be new continents which millions upon millions of animalcules are working to build at this moment.”

“And what are these masons?” asked Pencroff.

“The coral infusoria,” replied Cyrus Smith. “It is they who made, by constant work, Reao Island, the atolls and other numerous coral islands of the Pacific Ocean. Forty seven million of these infusoria weigh a grain [2] nevertheless, with the ocean salt that they absorb, with the solid elements that they assimilate from the water, these animalcules produce lime and this lime forms enormous submarine substructures whose hardness and compactness are equal to that of granite. Formerly, during the first stages of creation, nature, using fire, produced land by upheaval; but now it charges these microscopic animals to replace this agent whose dynamic power in the interior of the globe has evidently diminished—this is proved by the large number of volcanos on the surface of the earth that are actually extinct. And I really believe that in later centuries, as infusoria are added to infusoria, this Pacific will change one day into a vast continent which new generations will live on and civilize in their turn.”

“That will take long!” said Pencroff.

“Nature has the time for it,” replied the engineer.

“But what will be the good of new continents?” asked Herbert. “It seems to me that the actual extent of the habitable world is sufficient for humanity. Nature does nothing uselessly.”

“In fact nothing is useless,” replied the engineer, “but here is how one can explain the necessity for new continents in the future and precisely on this tropical zone occupied by the corral islands. At least this explanation seems plausible to me.”

“We are listening, Mister Cyrus,” replied Herbert.

“Here is my idea: Scientists generally admit that one day our world will end, or rather that animal and vegetable life will no longer be possible on it due to the intense cold to which it will be subjected. What they are not in agreement on is the cause of this cold. Some think that it will result from the lower temperature that the sun will experience after millions of years; others think that it will result from the gradual extinction of the interior fires of our globe which have a more pronounced influence on it than is generally supposed. I myself hold to this last hypothesis and I base it on the fact that the moon is really a frozen star which is no longer habitable even though the sun continues to shed the same amount of heat on its surface. If therefore the moon is cold, it is because these interior fires, to which all stars of the stellar world owe their origin, are completely extinct. In short, whatever the cause, our globe will freeze one day but this freezing will only come on little by little. What will then happen? The temperate zones, within a longer or a shorter time, will be no more habitable than the polar regions are. Thus the human population, as well as the animal groups, will flourish at those latitudes more directly subject to the solar influence. An immense migration will occur. Europe, Central Asia and North America will be abandoned little by little, as will Australasia and the lower parts of South America. Vegetation will follow the human emigration. The flora will recede to the equator at the same time as the fauna. The central parts of South America and of Africa will become the continents best to live in. The Laplanders and the Samoyeds will find the climatic conditions of the polar sea on the shores of the Mediterranean. Who can tell us that at this time the equatorial regions will not be too small to contain terrestrial humanity and to nourish it? Now, why won’t a clairvoyant nature, in order to give refuge to all of this vegetable and animal migration, lay the foundation, even at this moment, of a new continent under the equator and won’t it charge the infusoria to construct it? I have often reflected on all of these things, my friends, and I seriously believe that the aspect of our globe will one day be completely transformed, that as a result of the raising of new continents, the seas will cover the old ones and that, in future centuries, Columbuses will discover the islands of Chimborazo, the Himalayas or Mount Blanc, the remainders of an America, an Asia and a Europe engulfed. Then finally, these new continents in their turn will become uninhabitable; the heat will be extinguished like the heat from a body abandoned by the soul, and life will disappear, if not absolutely from the globe, at least for a time. Then perhaps our spheroid will rest and from death it will resuscitate one day under superior conditions! But all this, my friends, is the secret of the Author of all things, and in talking about the work of the infusoria, I have let myself be carried away a little too far perhaps in peering into the secrets of the future.”

“My dear Cyrus,” replied Gideon Spilett, “these theories are prophecies for me and they will be accomplished one day.”

“That is the secret of God,” said the engineer.

“All this is well and good,” Pencroff then said, having listened with all ears, “but tell me, Mister Cyrus, if Lincoln Island is constructed by your infusoria?”

“No,” replied Cyrus Smith, “it is strictly of volcanic origin.”

“Then it will disappear one day?”

“That is probable.”

“I hope that we will no longer be here.”

“No, I assure you, Pencroff, we will no longer be here since we have no wish to die here and that in the end we will extricate ourselves.”

“While waiting,” replied Gideon Spilett, “we will carry on as if for eternity. It will not do to take half-way measures.”

That ended the conversation. The meal was completed. The exploration was continued and the colonists arrived at the beginning of the marshy region.

It was a real marsh whose area measured twenty square miles up to the rounded shore which marked the southeast end of the island. The soil was formed of a silicious clay and mixed with vegetative debris. Conferva, juncaceae, carex, bulrush, and some layers of grass here and there covered it with a thick carpet. Frozen ponds scintillated in many a place under the sun’s rays. Neither rains nor rivers swelled by a sudden rise had been able to form these reservoirs of water. They naturally concluded that this marsh was fed by infiltrations from the soil, which was the case. They even feared that these miasmas could cause marsh fever during the hot weather.

Above the aquatic grass, on the surface of the stagnant waters, fluttered a world of birds. Marsh hunters would not have lost a single shot. Wild duck, pintail, teal and snipe lived there in flocks and these fearless birds could easily be approached.

A gunshot would certainly have hit several dozens of the birds, so tight were their ranks. They had to be content with arrows. The result was mediocre but the silent arrow had the advantage of not frightening these birds who would have dissipated to all corners of the of the marsh from the detonation of a gun. The hunters were therefore content, for the time being, with a dozen duck who had white bodies and cinnamon waists, green heads, black, white and reddish wings and flattened beaks that Herbert recognized as “Tadorns.” Top skillfully helped with the capture of these birds whose name was given to this marshy part of the island. Thus the colonists had there an abundant reserve of water fowl. When the time came, it would be appropriate to exploit this and it was likely that several of these species could become, if not domesticated, at least acclimatized to the neighborhood of the lake, which would put them within the immediate reach of the consumers.

Around five o’clock in the evening, Cyrus Smith and his companions took the road back to their dwelling, crossing Tadorn’s Marsh and passing over the Mercy on the bridge of ice.

At eight o’clock in the evening they were all back at Granite House.

1. Verne made an error here. The colonists do not give this place the name of Flotsom Point until three chapters later. (Translator’s note)

2. A grain weighs 65 milligrams.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Castaways from the Sky

Chapter XXII

Traps—Foxes—Peccaries—Sudden northwest wind—Snowstorm—Basket makers—Deepest frost of the winter—The crystallization of maple sugar—The mysterious well—The planned exploration—The lead bullet.

THIS intense frost lasted until the 15th of August without however dropping below the temperature already noted. When the weather was calm, this low temperature was easily tolerated but when the cold wind blew, it was hard on these insufficiently dressed men. Pencroff regretted that Lincoln Island had not given sanctuary to several families of bears instead of foxes or seals, whose fur leaves much to be desired.

“Bears,” he said, “are generally well dressed, and I will ask nothing more of them than to borrow for the winter the warm cloaks which are on their bodies.”

“But,” replied Neb laughing, “perhaps these bears will not consent, Pencroff, to give you their cloaks. These animals are not Saint-Martins!”

“We will compel them, Neb. We will compel them,” replied Pencroff, in a completely authoritative tone.

But these formidable carnivores did not exist on the island, or at least they had not shown themselves until then.

Nevertheless, Herbert, Pencroff and the reporter made traps on Grand View Plateau and at the approaches to the forest. In the sailor’s opinion, every animal, whatever it be, would be a good prize, and the rodents or carnivores who would use the new traps would be well received at Granite House.

Besides, these traps were extremely simple: Holes dug in the ground, a platform of branches and grass above to hide the opening, some bait at the bottom whose odor would attract the animals, that was all. It should be said that these traps were not dug at random but at certain places where numerous footprints indicated the frequent passage of quadrupeds. They were visited every day. Three times during the first days they found specimens there of the colpeos that had already been seen on the right bank of the Mercy.

“Are there nothing but foxes in this country?” cried Pencroff, the third time that he pulled out one of these animals from the pit. He was very crestfallen. “These animals are good for nothing.”

“But yes,” said Gideon Spilett. “They are good for something.”

“And what is that?”

“To make bait to attract others.”

The reporter was right and the traps were henceforth baited with the corpses of the foxes.

The sailor also made collars using juncus fibers and the collars were more profitable than the traps. It was a rare day without some rabbit captured from the warren. It was always rabbit, but Neb knew how to vary his sauces and the guests did not dream of complaining. However one or two times, in the second week of August, the traps delivered to the hunters other animals more useful than the colpeos. There were several of these wild boars that had already been sighted to the north of the lake. Pencroff had no need to ask if these animals were edible. This was obvious from their resemblance to the pigs of America or Europe.

The sailor leaned over the trap. By the small appendage which serves it as a tail, he took out one of these representatives of the suilline family.

“But these are not pigs. I warn you, Pencroff,” Herbert said to him.

“My boy,” replied the sailor, “let me believe that these are pigs.”

“Let me beleive...” said Pencroff.

“And why?”

“Because it pleases me.”

“You really like the pig, Pencroff?”

“I love the pig a lot,” answered the sailor, “especially for its feet, and if it had eight feet instead of four I would love it twice as much.”

As to the animals in question, they were peccaries belonging to one of the four genuses that make up the family. They were indeed of the “tajacu” species, recognizable by their dark color and deprived of those long canine teeth that arm the mouths of their congeners. These peccaries ordinarily live in groups and it was likely that they abounded in the wooded parts of the island. In any event they were edible from head to toe and Pencroff asked nothing more of them.

About the 15th of August, the weather was suddenly changed by a northwest wind. The temperature rose several degrees and the accumulated vapor in the air was not long in changing to snow. The entire island was covered with a white layer and showed itself to its inhabitants under a new aspect. This snow fell abundantly for several days and soon attained a thickness of two feet.

The wind soon freshened with an extreme violence and from the height of Granite House they could hear the sea growling on the reef. There were rapid eddies of air in certain corners and the snow, forming in tall rotating columns, resembled those waterspouts which twirl at their base and which vessels attack by cannon fire. The storm however came from the northwest, taking hold of the island from the rear. The orientation of Granite House preserved it from a direct assault. But in the midst of this snow blast, as terrible as if it was produced in some polar country, neither Cyrus Smith nor his companions were able, in spite of their desire, to venture outside and they remained shut up for five days, from the 20th to the 25th of August. They heard the tempest roar in Jacamar Woods which was sure to suffer from it. Doubtless many trees would be uprooted but Pencroff consoled himself by thinking that it would save him the trouble of cutting them down.

From the height of Granite House.

“The wind is woodsman, let it work,” he repeated.

And besides, he had no means of restraining it.

What thanks the hosts of Granite House then gave to heaven for having made for them this solid and steadfast retreat! Cyrus Smith deserved a legitimate part of these thanks but after all, it was nature that had excavated this vast cavern and he had only discovered it. There, all were safe and the storms could not reach them. If they had constructed a house of bricks and wood on Grand View Plateau, it would certainly not have resisted the fury of this storm. As to the Chimneys, the noise made by the waves led them to believe that it was absolutely uninhabitable because the sea, passing over the islet, must beat it with rage. But here, in Granite House, inside this block, neither water nor air could harm them and there was nothing to fear.

During these days of sequestration the colonists did not remain inactive. Wood, cut into planks, was not lacking in the storeroom and little by little they completed the furniture. The tables and chairs were sturdy, to be sure, because material was not spared. This somewhat heavy furniture hardly justified its name since mobility is an essential condition but Neb and Pencroff were proud of it and would not have exchanged it for any other.

Then the woodworkers became basketmakers and they did not succeed badly at this new task. They had discovered, near a corner of the lake that projected northward, a prolific osier bed where a large number of purple osiers grew. Before the rainy season, Pencroff and Herbert had harvested these useful bushes and their branches were used well. The first attempts were shapeless but thanks to the skill and intelligence of the basket makers who, consulting, recalling the models they had seen, emulating each other, some large and small baskets soon accrued to the colony. The storeroom was provided with them and there Neb stored his harvest of rhizomes, pine almonds and the roots of the dragon tree.

During the last week of this month of August, the weather changed once more. The temperature dropped a little and it became calm. The colonists went outside. There was certainly two feet of snow on the beach but the surface of this snow was hard so they could walk on it without much difficulty. Cyrus Smith and his companions climbed to Grand View Plateau.

What a change! These woods which they had left green, especially the neighboring parts where the conifers dominated, had disappeared under a uniform color. All was white from the top of Mount Franklin to the shore, the forests, the prairie, the lake, the river, the beaches. The water of the Mercy ran under a canopy of ice which broke up at each rise and fall of the tide, shattering loudly. Numerous birds fluttered on the solid surface of the lake, ducks and woodcocks, pintails and guillemots. Thousands were there. The rocks between which the cascade poured out on to the beach, bristled with ice. It could be said that the water escaped from a monstrous gargoyle made with all the fantasy of a renaissance artist. As to judging the damage done to the forest by the storm, they still could not do it, and it would be necessary to wait until the immense white layer was dissipated.

Gideon Spilett, Pencroff and Neb used this occasion to visit their traps. They could not find them easily under the snow which covered them. They had to take care not to fall into one or the other. This would have been simultaneously dangerous and humiliating: to be caught in one’s one trap! But they avoided this unpleasantness and found the traps perfectly intact. No animal had fallen in, but there were many footprints all about including certain clearly revealed claw marks. Herbert did not hesitate to affirm that some carnivore of the feline genre had passed there. This justified the engineer’s opinion on the presence of dangerous beasts on Lincoln Island. Doubtless these animals ordinarily inhabited the thick forests of the Far West but pressed on by hunger, they had ventured up to Grand View Plateau. Perhaps they smelled the hosts of Granite House.

“In short, what kind of felines are these?” asked Pencroff.

“They are tigers,” replied Herbert.

“I believe that these animals are found only in warm countries.”

“On the new continent,” replied the lad, “they are observed from Mexico to the pampas of Buenos Aires. Now, since Lincoln Island is very nearly on the same latitude as the province of La Plata, it is not astonishing that several tigers are encountered here.”

“Good, we will keep an eye out for them,” answered Pencroff.

However, the snow ended by dissipating under the influence of the rising temperature. Rain fell and thanks to its dissolving action the white layer disappeared. In spite of the bad weather, the colonists renewed their reserve of everything, pine almonds, dragon tree roots, rhizomes, maple syrup for the vegetable part; rabbits from the warren, agoutis and kangaroos for the animal part. This necessitated several excursions into the forest and they noted that a certain quantity of trees had been thrown down by the last storm. The sailor and Neb even hauled the cart up to the coal bed in order to bring back several tons of fuel. They saw in passing that the chimney of the pottery furnace had been extensively damaged by the wind and that at least six feet had been knocked off the top.

The provision of wood was also renewed at Granite House at the same time as the coal and they profited by the current of the Mercy, which had become free, to bring in several loads. They could see that the period of severe cold was not over.

A visit was also made to the Chimneys and the colonists could only congratulate themselves that they had not lived there during the storm. The sea had left incontestable marks of its ravages. Driven on by the open winds and passing over the islet, the sea had violently assailed the passageways which were half buried in the sand. Thick layers of seaweed covered the rocks. While Neb, Herbert and Pencroff hunted or renewed the supply of fuel, Cyrus Smith and Gideon Spilett cleaned up the Chimneys, finding the forge and the furnace almost intact, protected from the first by the sand covering.

The fuel had not been renewed in vain. The colonists had not finished with the rigorous frost. As is known, in the northern hemisphere, the month of February is noted for its large drops in temperature. It is the same in the southern hemisphere and the end of the month of August, which is the February of North America, did not escape this climatic law.

About the 25th, after a new change between snow and rain, the wind blew from the southeast and suddenly the cold became extremely brisk. According to the engineer’s estimate, the column of mercury on a Fahrenheit thermometer would not have marked less than 8° below zero (22.22° centigrade below freezing). Rendered more painful by the sharp wind, this intense frost kept up for several days. The colonists were again shut up in Granite House. Since it was necessary to hermetically seal all openings of the facade leaving only a small passage for the renewal of air, the consumption of candles was considerable. In order to economize them, the colonists often used only the light from the fireplace where they did not spare the fuel. Several times one or the other descended to the beach amid the ice floes that piled up with each tide but they soon climbed back to Granite House and it was not without pain and without suffering that their hands held on to the rungs of the ladder. With this intense frost, the rungs burnt their fingers.

It was again necessary to occupy the leisure imposed on the hosts of Granite House. Cyrus Smith then undertook an operation suited to indoors.

We know that the colonists had no sugar other than this liquid substance that they drew from the maple by making deep incisions in this tree. It sufficed for them to collect this liqueur into vases and they used it in this state for various culinary uses, so much the more that on aging the liqueur tended to become white and took on a syrupy consistency.

But there was something better to make and one day Cyrus Smith announced to his companions that they were going to become refiners.

“Refiners!” replied Pencroff. “That is a somewhat warm profession, I believe.”

“Very warm,” replied the engineer.

“Then it will be in season,” answered the sailor.

The word refining should not bring to mind complicated factories, tools and workmen. No! To crystalize this liqueur, it suffices to purify it by an extremely easy operation. Placed on a fire in large earthen vases, it was simply subjected to a certain evaporation and soon a scum rose to the surface. When it began to thicken, Neb took care to stir it with a wooden spatula, which accelerated its evaporation and at the same time prevented it from acquiring an empyreumatic taste.

After boiling for several hours on a good fire, which did as much good to the operators as to the substance operated on, it was transformed to a thick syrup. This syrup was poured into clay molds previously made in the same kitchen stove, and to which they had given various shapes. The next day this syrup solidified, forming cakes and tablets. It was sugar of a slightly reddish color but nearly transparent and with a perfect taste.

The frost continued to mid-September and the prisoners of Granite House began to find their captivity rather long. Nearly every day they made several sorties which they could not prolong. They therefore worked constantly on the arrangements for the dwelling. They chatted while working. Cyrus Smith instructed his companions in all things and principally he explained to them the practical applications of science. The colonists did not have a library at their disposal, but the engineer was a book that was always ready, always open to the page that each one needed, a book which answered all their questions and which they often leafed through. So the time passed and these brave men had no doubts about the future.

However, it was time for their confinement to end. All were in a hurry to see, if not the fine season, at least the end of this insupportable frost. If only they had been dressed in a way to be able to brave it, what excursions they would have made either to the dunes or to Tadorn Marsh. The game would have been easy to approach and the hunt would have assuredly been fruitful. But Cyrus Smith maintained that no one should compromise his health since he had need of all hands, and his advice was followed.

But, it must be said, the most impatient of the prisoners, after Pencroff of course, was Top. The faithful dog found Granite House too confining. He came and went from one room to the other, showing from his manner, his boredom in being cooped up.

Cyrus Smith often remarked that when he came near the gloomy well which was in communication with the sea and whose opening was at the base of the storeroom, that he made singular grunts. Top turned around this hole which had been covered with a wooden panel. Sometimes he even tried to slip his paws under this panel as if he wanted to lift it. He then yapped in a particular way which indicated anger and uneasiness at the same time.

The engineer observed this behavior several times. What was there in this abyss that could impress the intelligent animal? The well led to the sea, that was certain. Did it also branch out through narrow passageways across the framework of the island? Was it in communication with several other interior cavities? Did some marine monster come from time to time to breath at the bottom of this well? The engineer did not know what to think and he couldn’t help but imagine bizarre complications. Accustomed to the domain of scientific reality, he could not pardon himself for drifting into the domain of the strange and almost supernatural. Top was one of those sensible dogs who did not waste their time in barking at the moon but how could he explain why the dog insisted on probing this abyss with his smell and hearing if there was nothing to arouse his uneasiness? Top’s conduct intrigued Cyrus Smith more than he admitted to himself.

In any case, the engineer communicated his impressions only to Gideon Spilett, finding it pointless to tell his companions about these involuntary thoughts that arose within himself and which perhaps were due only to Top’s whims.

At last the frost ended. There was rain, squalls mixed with snow, showers and windstorms, but this bad weather did not last long. The ice dissolved, the snow melted; the beach, the plateau, the banks of the Mercy and the forests became passable once again. The return of springtime delighted the hosts of Granite House and soon they passed there only the hours for sleeping and for meals.

They did a lot of hunting in the second half of September which brought Pencroff to call again for firearms which he said had been promised by Cyrus Smith. The latter, knowing well that without special tools it was almost impossible to make a gun that would be of service, always held back and put off the operation for a later time. He noted, moreover, that Herbert and Gideon Spilett had become skillful archers, that all sorts of excellent animals, agoutis, kangaroos, capybaras, pigeons, bustards, wild duck, snipe, in short that hairy or feathery game fell under their arrows and consequently that they could wait. But the obstinate sailor would not hear of it and did not cease to remind the engineer that he had not satisfied his desire. Besides, Gideon Spilett seconded Pencroff.

“If the island, as we have no reason to doubt,” he said, “contains ferocious animals, we should think of fighting them and exterminating them. A time may come when this will become our first duty.”

But at this period, it was not this question of firearms which preoccupied Cyrus Smith but that of clothing. The colonists had passed the winter with those that they wore, but these would not last until the next winter. They would have to procure the furs of some carnivores or the wool of ruminants at any price. Since there was no lack of sheep, it would be advisable to start a flock which would be raised for the needs of the colony. An enclosure for domestic animals, a poultry yard laid out for the fowl, in a word a sort of farm to establish at some point on the island, such were the two important projects to execute during the fine season.

Consequently, and in view of these future establishments, it thus became urgent to conduct a reconnaissance of all the unknown parts of Lincoln Island, that is to say in the deep forests which extended on the right of the Mercy from its mouth to the extremity of Serpentine Peninsula, as well as all of the western shore. But better weather was needed and a month must pass before this exploration could be properly undertaken.

They therefore waited with some impatience when an incident occurred which further excited the desire of the colonists to visit their entire domain.

It was the 24th of October. On this day Pencroff had gone to visit the traps which he always kept decently baited. In one of these he found three animals which would be welcome back home. It was a female peccary and her two young ones.

Pencroff returned to Granite House, enchanted with his capture and, as usual, the sailor made a big show over his hunt.

“Come! We will make a good meal, Mister Cyrus,” he cried. “And you too, Mister Spilett, you will eat it!”

“I do so want to eat,” replied the reporter, “but what is it that I will eat?”

“Piglet.”

“Ah, really, piglet, Pencroff? To hear you speak, I would think you were bringing a young truffled partridge!”

“How’s this?” cried Pencroff. “Are you perchance making fun of my piglet?”

“No,” replied Gideon Spilett, without showing any enthusiasm, “provided one does not overdo it...”

“That is good, that is good, Mister journalist,” retorted the sailor, who did not like to hear his hunt depreciated. “You are difficult. And seven months ago, when we landed on the island, you would have been very happy to meet with similar game!...”

“There, there,” replied the reporter. “Man is never happy nor content.”

“Well,” replied Pencroff, “I hope that Neb will distinguish himself. Look! These two young peccaries are not even three months old! They will be as tender as quails. Come Neb, let’s go. I will oversee the cooking myself.”

And the sailor, followed by Neb, went into the kitchen where they became absorbed in their culinary labors.

They did it their way. Neb and he then prepared a magnificent meal, the two young peccaries, a kangaroo soup, a smoked ham, some pine almonds, dragon tree beverage, some Oswego tea, in short, the best of everything; but the best of all the dishes was the savory peccaries, prepared braised.

At five o’clock dinner was served in the hall of Granite House. The kangaroo soup was smoking on the table. They found it excellent.

After the soup came the peccaries which Pencroff wanted to slice himself. He served monstrous portions to each of his fellow diners.

These piglets were truly delicious and Pencroff devoured his portion with gusto when all of a sudden a cry and an oath escaped him.

“What is it?” asked Cyrus Smith.

“It’s... It’s... I broke a tooth!” replied the sailor.

“So! Are there are pebbles in your peccaries?” asked Gideon Spilett.

“I think so,” replied Pencroff, drawing from his lips the object which had cost him a molar!...

It was not a pebble... It was a lead bullet.

END OF THE FIRST PART

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Abandoned

Chapter I

The subject of the lead bullet—The construction of a canoe—Hunting—At the top of a kauri—Nothing to attest the presence of man—Neb and Herbert’s catch—A tortoise turned over—The tortoise disappears—Cyrus Smith’s explanation.

IT was seven months to the day that the balloon passengers had been thrown on Lincoln Island. During this time, in spite of the search they had made, no human had shown himself. Never had any smoke betrayed the presence of man on the surface of the island. Never had any manual work attested to his passage either in the past or recently. Not only did the island seem uninhabited, but they believed that it had never been inhabited. And now this entire structure of deductions fell before a simple grain of metal found in the body of an inoffensive rodent.

In fact, this bullet was fired from a gun and who but a human could operate such a weapon?

When Pencroff placed the lead bullet on the table, his companions looked at it with a profound astonishment. They suddenly became aware of the considerable consequences of this incident in spite of its apparent insignificance. The sudden appearance of a supernatural being would not have impressed them more vividly.

Cyrus Smith did not hesitate to spell out the hypotheses resulting from this surprising and unexpected fact. He held the lead bullet between his index finger and thumb and turned it back and forth. Then:

“You are able to say,” he asked Pencroff, “that the peccary wounded by this lead bullet was hardly older than three months?”

“Hardly, Mister Cyrus,” replied Pencroff. “It was still being nursed by its mother when I found it in the trap.”

“Well then,” said the engineer, “this proves that a gun was fired on Lincoln Island three months ago at most.”

“And that a lead bullet struck this young animal, but not mortally,” added Gideon Spilett.

“Without doubt,” replied Cyrus Smith, “and these are the consequences that can be deduced from this incident: either the island was inhabited before our arrival or men came here in the last three months. Did these men come here voluntarily or involuntarily, by landing or by a shipwreck? This point can be cleared up later. As to who they are, European or Malayan, enemies or friends of our race, nothing permits us to say, and if they still inhabit the island or if they have left it, we know nothing about it. But these questions are too interesting for us to remain uncertain for long.”

“No, a hundred times no, a thousand times no,” cried the sailor, rising from the table. “There are no men on Lincoln Island other than we. The devil. The island isn’t large and if it had been inhabited, we would already have seen some of its inhabitants.”

“In fact, the contrary would be very astonishing,” said Herbert.

“But it would be even more astonishing, I suppose,” observed the reporter, “if this peccary was born with a lead bullet in its body.”

“At least,” said Neb seriously, “if Pencroff hasn’t had...”

“See for yourself, Neb,” retorted Pencroff. “Would I have had a lead bullet in my jaw for five or six months without knowing it? But where would I conceal it?” added the sailor, opening his mouth to show the thirty two magnificent teeth which filled it. “Look carefully, Neb, and if you find a hollow tooth in this set, I will let you pull out a half dozen!”

“Look carefully, Neb.”

“Neb’s hypothesis is not admissible,” replied Cyrus Smith who, in spite of the gravity of his thoughts, could not restrain a smile. “It is certain that a gun has been fired on the island in the last three months at most. But I am led to believe that these beings, whoever they were, landed on this shore only for a very short time or that they were only passing through because if it had been inhabited at the time that we were examining the island from atop Mount Franklin, we would have seen them or we would have been seen. It is probable that for a few weeks only, some castaways were thrown by a storm on some point of the shore. Whatever is the case, it is important for us to be sure on this point.”

“I think that we should act prudently,” said the reporter.

“That is my advice,” replied Cyrus Smith, “because unfortunately it is to be feared that these were Malayan pirates who landed on the island.”

“Mister Cyrus,” asked the sailor, “would it not be expedient, before going on a reconnaissance, to make a canoe which would permit us either to ascend the river or if need be, to go around the coast? We should not be caught off guard.”

“Your idea is a good one, Pencroff,” replied the engineer, “but we cannot wait. At least a month is needed to build a canoe...”

“A real canoe, yes,” replied the sailor, “but we do not need a vessel destined to take to the sea. In five days at most, I am confident that I can construct a canoe able to navigate on the Mercy.”

“Make a boat in five days!” cried Neb.

“Yes, Neb, a boat in the Indian fashion.”

“Of wood?” asked Neb, unconvinced.

“Of wood,” replied Pencroff, “or rather of bark. I repeat to you, Mister Cyrus, in five days the matter can be settled.”

“In five days be it,” replied the engineer.

“But from now on, we will do well be cautious,” said Herbert.

“Very much so, my friends,” replied Cyrus Smith, “and I beg you to limit your hunting excursions to the neighborhood of Granite House.”

The dinner finished less gaily than Pencroff had hoped.

Thus then, the island was or had been inhabited by others than the colonists. After the incident of the lead bullet, this was an incontestable fact and such a revelation could only make the colonists uneasy.

Before going to sleep, Cyrus Smith and Gideon Spilett talked a long time about these things. They asked if by chance this incident did not have some connection with the unexplained circumstances in which the engineer had been saved and other strange events which had already astounded them several times. However, after having discussed the pros and cons of the question, Cyrus Smith ended by saying:

“In short, do you want to know my opinion, my dear Spilett?”

“Yes, Cyrus.”

“Well, it is this: however minutely we will explore the island, we will find nothing!”

The next day Pencroff went to work. He did not intend to make a canoe with ribs and planking but very simply a floating device, flat at the bottom, which would be excellent for navigating the Mercy especially when approaching its sources where the water was not deep. Some pieces of bark stitched together would suffice to form a light vessel and in the event it became necessary to carry it, due to natural obstacles, it would be neither heavy nor cumbersome. Pencroff counted on forming the seams of the bark strips by using riveted studs and to assure, with their adherence, the water tightness of the apparatus.

He therefore chose trees whose flexible and tenacious bark was suitable for this purpose. Now the last storm had thrown down a certain quantity of douglas which is perfectly suitable for this type of construction. Several of these fir trees were stretched out on the ground and they had only to take off their bark but this was difficult in view of the imperfect tools possessed by the colonists. But they managed somehow.

While Pencroff, seconded by the engineer, was occupied with this without losing an hour, Gideon Spilett and Herbert did not remain idle. They became the purveyors of the colony. The reporter could not help but admire the lad who had acquired a remarkable skill in the handling of the bow and the spear. Herbert also showed daring and coolness which one can justly call the “reasonableness of the brave.” Besides, the two hunting companions took account of Cyrus Smith’s recommendations by not going beyond a two mile radius around Granite House. The first slopes of the forest furnished a sufficient tribute of agoutis, capybaras, kangaroos, pecarries, etc. and if the yield from the traps was less important since the end of the frost, none the less the warren gave its accustomed share which would have been enough to feed the colony of Lincoln Island.

Often, during these hunts, Herbert chatted with Gideon Spilett about the incident of the lead bullet whose consequences were of such concern to the engineer and one day—it was the 26th of October—he said to him:

“But, Mister Spilett, do you not find it extraordinary that if some castaways have landed on the island that they still have not shown themselves in front of Granite House?”

“Very astonishing if they are still here,” replied the reporter, “but not at all astonishing if they are no longer here.”

“Hence, you believe that these people have already left the island?” answered Herbert.

“That is more than likely, my son, because if their stay was prolonged and especially if they were still here some incident would have finally betrayed their presence.”

“But if they were able to leave,” the lad noted, “then they were not castaways.”

“No, Herbert, or at least they were what I would call temporary castaways. In fact, it is very possible that a windstorm had thrown them on the island without damaging their vessel and that they returned to sea when the storm was over.”

“One thing must be acknowledged,” said Herbert, “which is that Mister Smith always seems to fear rather than desire the presence of human beings on our island.”

“In fact,” replied the reporter, “there is nothing desirable about these Malayans who frequent these seas and these gentlemen are wicked rogues who are best avoided.”

“It is not impossible, Mister Spilett,” replied Herbert, “that one of these days we will find some traces of their landing and perhaps it will settle the matter.”

“I do not say no, my son. An abandoned camp, an extinct fire will put us on the track and it is this which we will look for in our coming exploration.”

On the day when the hunters were chatting in this manner, they found themselves in a part of the forest near the Mercy, noted for its trees of great beauty. Among others, rising to a height of almost two hundred feet above the ground, were several of those superb conifers which the natives of New Zealand call “kauris.”

“An idea, Mister Spilett,” said Herbert. “If I climb to the top of one of these kauris, I will perhaps be able to observe the country over a large area.”

“The idea is good,” replied the reporter, “but will you be able to climb to the top of these giants?”

“I can always try,” replied Herbert.

The agile and skillful lad darted up to the first branches whose arrangement made it rather easy to climb and in several minutes he arrived at the top which emerged above this immense plain of verdure that formed the foliage of the forest.

From this high point the view extended over the entire southern portion of the island from Cape Claw in the southeast to Reptile Promontory in the southwest. In the northwest rose Mount Franklin which hid a good quarter of the horizon.

But Herbert, from the height of his observatory, could clearly see all of this still unknown portion of the island which could give or had given refuge to the strangers whose presence they suspected.

The lad looked carefully. First on the open sea there was nothing in sight. Not a sail either on the horizon nor on the approaches to the island. However, since the trees hid the shore, it was possible that a vessel, especially a vessel with damaged masts, was very near land and consequently was invisible.

There was also nothing amid the forests of the Far West. The forest formed an impenetrable dome measuring several square miles, without a clearing and without any light. It was even impossible to follow the course of the Mercy or to recognize the point of the mountain from which it took its source. Perhaps other creeks flowed toward the west but that could not be determined.

But if Herbert saw no indication of an encampment, could he at least detect some smoke in the air which would reveal the presence of man? The atmosphere was clear and the least vapor would show clearly against the background of the sky.

For a moment, Herbert thought that he saw a faint smoke rising in the west but a more careful observation showed him that he was mistaken. He looked very carefully and his view was excellent... No, decidedly, there was nothing there.

Herbert climbed down to the foot of the kauri and the two hunters returned to Granite House. There Cyrus Smith listened to the lad’s recital, shook his head and said nothing. It was rather evident that they could answer this question only after a complete exploration of the island.

Two days later—October 28th—another incident occurred whose explanation also left something to be desired.

While roaming about the beach two miles from Granite House, Herbert and Neb were rather happy to capture a magnificent specimen of the order of chelonia. It was a tortoise of the genus mydase, whose shell had a green luster.

Herbert saw this tortoise sliding among the rocks, trying to get to the sea.

“Help Neb, over here!” he cried.

Neb rushed up.

“What a beautiful animal!” said Neb, “but how will we get hold of it?”

“Nothing is easier, Neb,” replied Herbert. “We will turn this tortoise over on its back and it will not be able to escape. Take your spear and imitate me.”

The reptile, sensing the danger, withdrew into its shell and into its breast-plate. One could no longer see its head nor its paws and it was as still as a rock.

Herbert and Neb placed their sticks under the breast-bone of the animal and working together, they succeeded not without difficulty in turning it on its back. This tortoise, which measured three feet in length, would weigh at least four hundred pounds.

“Good!” cried Neb, “this will make friend Pencroff happy.”

“This will make friend Pencroff happy.”

In fact friend Pencroff could not but be happy because the flesh of these tortoises, which feed on seaweed, is extremely tasty. At the moment this tortoise was only allowing a glimpse of its small flat head which was widened subsequently by the large temporal fossa of the skull hidden under a bony arch.

“And now what will we do with our game?” said Neb. “We cannot drag it to Granite House.”

“Let’s leave it here, since it cannot turn over,” replied Herbert, “and we will return to take it with the cart.”

“I understand.”

Nevertheless, as an added precaution, Herbert took the care, which Neb considered superfluous, to wedge in the animal with large stones. After that the two hunters returned to Granite House following the beach that the then low tide had uncovered. Herbert, wanting to surprise Pencroff, did not tell him anything about the “superb specimen of the chelonia order,” which they had turned over on the sand; but two hours later, Neb and he came back with the cart to the spot where they had left it. The “superb specimen of the chelonia order” was no longer there.

Neb and Herbert first looked at each other, then they looked around. Nevertheless it was the place where they had left the tortoise. The lad even found the stones which he had used and consequently he was sure that he was not mistaken.

“So,” said Neb, “these animals can turn themselves over.”

“So it seems,” replied Herbert, who could not understand it and looked at the stones scattered on the sand.

“Well, Pencroff will not be happy.”

“And it will perhaps be difficult for Mister Smith to explain this disappearance,” Herbert reflected.

“Good,” said Neb, who wanted to hide his misadventure, “we won’t speak about it.”

“On the contrary, Neb, we must speak about it,” replied Herbert.

And both, taking back the cart which they had hauled uselessly, returned to Granite House.

Going to the lumber room where the engineer and the sailor were working together, Herbert told what had happened.

“What dopes,” cried the sailor. “To let at least fifty soups escape.”

“But Pencroff,” replied Neb. “It is not our fault if the animal escaped since I told you that we turned it over.”

“Then you didn’t turn it over enough,” the intractable sailor retorted ludicrously.

“Not enough!” cried Herbert.

And he told how he had taken care to wedge the tortoise with the stones.

“Then it was a miracle!” replied Pencroff.

“I believe, Mister Cyrus,” said Herbert, “that tortoises, once placed on their back, cannot turn over, especially when they are large.”

“That is true, my child,” replied Cyrus Smith.

“Then how was it able...?”

“At what distance from the water did you leave the tortoise?” asked the engineer, who stopped working and reflected on this incident.

“About fifteen feet at most,” replied Herbert.

“And it was low tide at the time?”

“Yes, Mister Cyrus.”

“Well,” replied the engineer, “what the tortoise could not do on the sand, it was able to do in the water. It turned itself over when the tide returned to it and tranquilly returned to the high seas.”

“Ah! What dopes we are!” cried Neb.

“That is precisely what I had the honor of telling you!” replied Pencroff.

Cyrus Smith had given this explanation which was doubtless admissible. But was he convinced of the correctness of the explanation? One would not dare to say so.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND

Second Part

THE ABANDONED

Chapter I

The subject of the lead bullet—The construction of a canoe—Hunting—At the top of a kauri—Nothing to attest the presence of man—Neb and Herbert's catch—A tortoise turned over—The tortoise disappears—Cyrus Smith's explanation.

Chapter II

First trial of the canoe—A wreck on shore—Towing—Flotsam Point—Inventory of the case: tools, arms, instruments, clothes, books, utensils—What Pencroff wanted—The gospel—A verse from the sacred book.

Chapter III

Departure—The rising tide—Elms and nettle trees—Various plants—The jacamar—Aspect of the forest—Giant eucalypti—Why they are called “fever trees”—Troops of monkeys—The waterfall—Night encampment.

Chapter IV

Going toward the coast—Several bands of quadrumanes—A new watercourse—Why the tide was not felt—A forest on the shore—Reptile Promontory—Gideon Spilett makes Herbert envious—The noise of the bamboos.

Chapter V

Proposition to return by the southern shore—Configuration of the coast—Search for a presumed wreck—A wreck in the air—Discovery of a small natural port—Midnight on the banks of the Mercy—A drifting canoe.

Chapter VI

Pencroff's calls—A night at the Chimneys—Herbert's arrow—Cyrus Smith's plan—An unexpected solution—What happened in Granite House—How a new servant enters the service of the colonists.

Chapter VII

Projects to execute—A bridge over the Mercy—Making an island out of Grand View Plateau—The draw-bridge—The corn harvest—The creek—The culverts—The poultry yard—The pigeon house—The two onagers—The harnessed cart—Excursion to Port Balloon.

Chapter VIII

Linen—Hunting for sealskin—Making pyroxyle—Various plantings—Fishing—Tortoise eggs—Progress of Master Jup—The corral—Hunting wild sheep—New vegetable and animal riches—Remembrance of their native land.

Chapter IX

Bad weather—The hydraulic lift—Making glass panes and glass cups—The bread tree—Frequent visits to the corral—Increase in the flock—The reporter's question—Exact coordinates of Lincoln Island—Pencroff's proposition.

Chapter X

Construction of the boat—Second harvest of corn—Hunting koala—A new plant more pleasant than useful—A whale in sight—The harpoon from Vineyard—Cutting up the cetacean—Using the whalebones—The end of the month of May—Pencroff has nothing left to wish for.

Chapter XI

Winter—Pressing wool—The mill—Pencroff's obsession—Whalebones—To what use an albatross can be put—The fuel of the future—Top and Jup—Storms—Damage at the poultry yard—An excursion to the marshes—Cyrus Smith alone—Exploration of the well.

Chapter XII

The rigging of the boat—An attack by colpeos—Jup wounded—Jup nursed—Jup healing—Completion of the boat—Pencroff's triumph—The “Bonadventure”—First trial to the south of the island—An unexpected document.

Chapter XIII

Departure decided—Hypothesis—Preparations—The three passengers—First night—Second night—Tabor Island—Search on the shore—Search in the woods—No one—Animals—Plants—A dwelling—Deserted.

Chapter XIV

Inventory—Night—Some lettering—Continuing the search—Plants and animals—Herbert in great danger—On board—The departure—Bad weather—A glimmer of instinct—Lost at sea—A timely light.

Chapter XV

Return—Discussion—Cyrus Smith and the stranger—Port Balloon—The third harvest—A windmill—The first flour and the first bread—The engineer's devotion—A moving experience—Some flowing tears.

Chapter XVI

A mystery to clear up—The stranger's first words—A dozen years on the islet—Admissions which escape him—The disappearance—Cyrus Smith's confidence—Construction of a mill—The first bread—An act of devotion—Honest hands.

Chapter XVII

Always alone—A request from the stranger—A farmhouse established at the corral—He was there twelve years—The first mate of the “Britannia”—Abandoned on Tabor Island—The hand of Cyrus Smith—The mysterious document.

Chapter XVIII

Conversation—Cyrus Smith and Gideon Spilett—The engineer's idea—The electric telegraph—The wires—The battery—The alphabet—Fine season—The colony's prosperity—Photography—An impression of snow—Two years on Lincoln Island.

Chapter XIX

Recollections of their native land—Future chances—Proposed survey of the coasts of the island—Departure on the 16th of April—Serpentine Peninsula, a view from the sea—The basalts of the western coast—Bad weather—Night comes on—A new incident.

Chapter XX

Night at sea—Shark Gulf—Confidences—Preparations for winter—An early winter—Intense frost—Interior Work—After six months—A photographic negative—Unexpected incident.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har'El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Abandoned

Chapter II

First trial of the canoe—A wreck on shore—Towing—Flotsam Point—Inventory of the case: tools, arms, instruments, clothes, books, utensils—What Pencroff wanted—The gospel—A verse from the sacred book.

ON October 29th the bark canoe was completely finished. Pencroff had kept his promise and in five days a sort of canoe, whose hull was ribbed with the flexible wood of the crejimba, had been constructed. A seat in the rear, a second seat in the middle to maintain the separation, a third seat in front, a flat board to support the tholes of two oars, a stern oar to steer, made up this twelve foot long boat which did not weigh two hundred pounds. As to the launching operation, it was extremely simple. The light canoe was carried to the sand on the shore in front of Granite House and the rising tide lifted it up. Pencroff immediately jumped in, worked in the scull and declared that it was very suitable for whatever use they wanted to make of it.

“Hurrah!” cried the sailor, who did not disdain to celebrate his own triumph in this way. “With this we can make a tour...”

“Of the world?” asked Gideon Spilett.

“No, of the island. Some rocks for ballast, a mast up front and a bit of a sail which Mister Smith will make for us one day and we will go far. Well, Mister Cyrus and you Mister Spilett and you Herbert and you Neb, aren’t you going to try out our new boat? The devil! Let’s see if it can carry all five of us.”

In fact, this was a test to make. Pencroff, with a stroke of the scull, brought the boat to the shore through a narrow passage among the rocks and it was agreed that they would try out the canoe on this very day by following the shoreline up to the first point where the rocks in the south came to an end.

At the moment of embarking, Neb cried:

“But your boat leaks badly, Pencroff!”

“That’s nothing, Neb,” replied the sailor. “It is necessary for the wood to become watertight. In two days it will no longer be apparent and our canoe will have no more water inside it than there is in the stomach of drunkard. Embark!”

They then got in and Pencroff drove out. The weather was magnificent, the sea as calm as if its waters were contained within the narrow banks of a lake and the canoe could confront the sea with as much security as if it were ascending the tranquil current of the Mercy.

Neb took one of the oars, Herbert the other and Pencroff stayed in the rear of the boat in order to work the scull.

The sailor first crossed the channel, grazing the southern point of the islet. A light wind blew from the south. There was no swell neither in the channel nor on the sea. Several long waves that the canoe hardly felt because it was heavily loaded, regularly swelled the surface of the sea. They went out about a half mile from shore in order to see all of Mount Franklin.

Pencroff went along the shore to the mouth of the river. The canoe then followed the rounded shoreline up to its end point, which hid all of the marshy Tadorns plain.

This point, whose distance was increased by the curvature of the coast, was about three miles from the Mercy. The colonists decided to go to its end and to pass it only a little in order to take a quick look at the coast up to Cape Claw.

The canoe therefore followed the coast at a distance of two cables at most, thus avoiding the rocks strewn on the shoreline, which were beginning to be covered by the rising tide. The wall became lower from the river’s mouth up to the point. It was a pile of granite blocks, randomly distributed, of an extremely savage aspect and very different from the facade that formed Grand View Plateau. One would have said that an enormous cartload of rocks had been emptied there. There was no vegetation on this very sharp salient which extended for two miles in front of the forest and this point looked very much like the arms of a giant who was about to emerge from a channel of foliage.

The canoe, moved by the two oars, advanced without difficulty. Gideon Spilett, pencil in one hand, notebook in the other, sketched the coast in large strokes. Neb, Pencroff and Herbert chatted while examining this new part of their domain and as the canoe moved southward, the two Mandible Capes appeared to shift and enclose Union Bay.

As to Cyrus Smith, he looked but said nothing and from the mistrust expressed by his look, it seemed as if he were observing some strange country.

However, after a navigation of three quarters of an hour, the canoe arrived at the extremity of the point, and Pencroff prepared to double it when Herbert, getting up, pointed to a black spot and said:

“What do I see there on the beach?”

Everyone looked toward the indicated point.

“In fact,” said the reporter, “something is there. One would say a piece of wreckage half buried in the sand.”

“Ah!” cried Pencroff, “I see what it is.”

“What?” asked Neb.

“Barrels, barrels, which may be full,” replied the sailor.

“To shore, Pencroff,” said Cyrus Smith.

In a few strokes of the oar, the canoe landed in a small cove and the passengers leaped to shore.

Pencroff was not mistaken. Two barrels were there, half buried in the sand but still securely attached to a large case which, held up by the water, had floated in this way until the moment when it had become stranded on the beach.

“Has there been a wreck hereabout on the island?” asked Herbert.

“Evidently,” replied Gideon Spilett.

“But what is in this case?” cried Pencroff, naturally impatient. “What is in this case? It is locked and there’s nothing to break the lid. Well, a few blows with a rock then.”

“But what is in this case?”

And the sailor, picking up a heavy block, went to break open one of the sides of the case when the engineer stopped him.

“Pencroff,” he said to him, “can you restrain your impatience for only an hour?”

“But just think, Mister Cyrus. Perhaps everything we need is inside.”

“We will know, Pencroff,” replied the engineer, “but believe me, do not break this case which may be useful to us. Let us transport it to Granite House where we will open it more easily and without breaking it. It is fully prepared for the voyage and since it has floated this far it will also float to the river’s mouth.”

“You are right, Mister Cyrus, and I am wrong,” replied the sailor, “but I am not always in control of myself.”

The engineer’s advice was sensible. In fact, the canoe would not be able to hold the objects which were probably enclosed in the case. They had to be heavy since it was necessary to relieve the load by means of two empty barrels. Thus, it would be better to tow it as is to the beach in front of Granite House.

And now from whence came this wreckage? This was an important question. Cyrus Smith and his companions carefully looked around and scoured the shore for a space of several hundred feet. No other debris appeared.

The sea was also observed. Herbert and Neb climbed to a high rock but the horizon was deserted. Nothing was in sight, neither a disabled ship nor a vessel under sail.

However, there was no doubt that there had been a wreck. Perhaps even, this incident was associated with the incident of the lead bullet? Perhaps some strangers had landed on another point of the island? Perhaps they were still there? But the colonists could see that these strangers could not be Malayan pirates because the wreck was evidently of American or European origin.

Everyone returned to the case which measured five feet in length by three in width. It was made of oak wood, very carefully closed and covered by a thick skin held in place with copper nails. The two large barrels, hermetically sealed but sounding empty, were tied by means of strong cords and knotted by knots which Pencroff easily recognized as “sailor’s knots”. It appeared to be in a perfect state of preservation, which was explained by the fact that it had run aground on a sandy beach and not on the reefs. On examining it carefully, they could even say that its sojourn on the sea had not been long and also that its arrival on the shore was recent. The water did not seem to have penetrated inside and the objects which it contained would be intact.

It was evident that this case had been thrown overboard from a disabled vessel heading toward the island and that, in the hope that it would reach the island where they would later recover it, the passengers had taken the precaution of lightening it by means of a floating apparatus.

“We will tow this wreckage to Granite House” said the engineer, “and we will make an inventory of it; then if we find some survivors of this presumed wreck on the island, we will return the contents to them. If we find no one...”

“We will keep it for ourselves,” cried Pencroff. “But, by God, what is inside?”

Already the tide began to reach the wreck, which evidently could float in the open sea. One of the cords attached to the barrels was partly unraveled and used to tie the floating apparatus to the canoe. Then Pencroff and Neb excavated into the sand with their oars in order to facilitate the movement of the case. Soon the boat, towing the case, began to double the point which was given the name Flotsam Point. The towing was sluggish and the barrels were barely sufficient to hold the case above the water. The sailor feared that at any moment it would detach and sink to the bottom. But happily his fears were not realized and an hour and a half after leaving—it took all this time to travel this distance of three miles—the canoe came alongside the beach in front of Granite House.

Canoe and case were then hauled onto the sand and since the tide was already going down it was not long in leaving it high and dry. Neb brought tools to force the case in a way that would damage it as little as possible and they proceeded to its inventory. Pencroff could not hide his excitement.

The sailor began by detaching the two barrels which, being in very good condition, would find uses, that goes without saying. Then the locks were forced with a crowbar and the lid was taken off at once.

A double envelope of zinc lined the interior of the case which had evidently been designed so that the enclosed objects would be protected from the dampness under all circumstances.

“Ah!” cried Neb, “what if there are preserves inside?”

“I hope not,” replied the reporter.

“If only there was...,” said the sailor in a low voice.

“What?” asked Neb, who overhead him.

“Nothing!”

The zinc cover was broken along its entire length, then turned down on the sides of the case and little by little various objects of different kinds were extracted and placed on the sand. With each new object, Pencroff gave out new hurrahs, Herbert clapped and Neb danced. There were books which made Herbert mad with joy and kitchen utensils which Neb covered with kisses.

As to the remainder, the colonists were extremely satisfied because the case contained tools, arms, instruments, clothes, books, and here is the exact nomenclature as written in Gideon Spilett’s notebook.

As to the remainder, the colonists were satisfied.

Tools: three knives with several blades, two woodsman’s axes, two carpenter’s axes, three planes, two adzes, one twibil, six cold chisels, two files, three hammers, three gimlets, two augers, ten sacks of nails and screws, three saws of various sizes, and two boxes of needles.

Arms: two flintlock guns, two percussion cap guns, two carbines with central ignition, five cutlasses, four sabers, two barrels of powder each containing 25 pounds, and twelve boxes of fulminate primers.

Instruments: one sextant, one pair of binoculars, one telescope, one box compass, one pocket compass, one Fahrenheit thermometer, one aneroid barometer, one box containing a complete photographic apparatus, objective, plates, chemicals, etc.

Clothing: two dozen shirts of a particular fiber resembling wool, but evidently of a vegetable origin and three dozen hose of the same fiber.

Utensils: one iron pot, six galvanized copper saucepans, three iron plates, ten aluminum table settings, two kettles, one small portable stove and six table knives.

Books: one bible containing the old and new testaments, one atlas, one dictionary of various Polynesian dialects, one dictionary on natural science in six volumes, three reams of blank paper and two record books of blank paper.

“It must be admitted,” said the reporter, after the inventory was completed, “that the owner of this case was a practical man. Tools, arms, instruments, clothing, utensils, books, nothing is missing. One would say that he expected to be wrecked and that he prepared in advance.”

“In fact, nothing is missing,” murmured Cyrus Smith thoughtfully.

“And it’s a sure bet,” added Herbert, “that the ship which brought this case and the owner were not Malayan pirates.”

“Unless,” said Pencroff, “the owner had been made a prisoner by the pirates...”

“That is not admissible,” replied the reporter. “It is more likely that an American or European ship had been drawn into these waters and that the passengers, wanting to save some essential things at least, prepared this case and threw it into the sea.”

“Is that your opinion, Mister Cyrus?” asked Herbert.

“Yes, my child,” replied the engineer, “it may have happened in this way. It is possible that for a time they expected to be wrecked so they placed the most useful objects in this case in order to retrieve it at some point on the coast...”

“Even the photography box!” noted the sailor rather incredulously.

“As to that apparatus,” replied Cyrus Smith, “I do not quite see its utility and a more complete assortment of clothing or more ammunition would be of better value to us as to other castaways.”

“But isn’t there some mark or address on these instruments, tools or books which will let us know who made them?” asked Gideon Spilett.

This was to be seen. Each item was carefully examined, especially the books, the instruments and the arms. Neither the arms nor the instruments, contrary to custom, carried the manufacturer’s mark; they were besides, in perfect condition and they seemed to have never been used. Especially the tools and utensils; everything was new, which proved, in short, that these items had not been taken at random and thrown into the case but, on the contrary, that the choice of these items had been made thoughtfully and their arrangement was made carefully. This was further indicted by this second envelope of metal which had protected it from the dampness and which could not have been soldered in a moment of haste.

As to the dictionaries of natural science and Polynesian dialects, both were in English but they did not carry the editor’s name nor the date of publication.

Even the bible, printed in English in quarto was remarkable from a typographical point of view and appeared to have been thumbed through often.

As to the atlas, it was a magnificent work in French nomenclature, containing maps of the entire world and several planispheres based on Mercator projection—but it did not carry the date of publication nor the name of the editor.

Among all these various items there was no indication as to the country of origin and nothing consequently to let them guess as to the nationality of the vessel which had so recently passed through these waters. But regardless of where it came from, it gave riches to the colonists of Lincoln Island. Until then, by transforming the products of nature, they had made everything by themselves, and thanks to their intelligence they had attended to their affairs. But did it not seem that Providence wished to reward them by bringing them these various products of human industry. Their thanks went unanimously to heaven.

However, one of them was not absolutely satisfied. It was Pencroff. It seemed that the case did not enclose the one thing he wanted enormously and as each of the items were taken out his hurrahs diminished in intensity and, with the inventory completed, one heard him murmur these words.

“This is all good and well, but you can see that there is nothing for me in this box!”

This brought Neb to say to him:

“So, friend Pencroff, what did you expect?”

“A half pound of tobacco,” Pencroff replied seriously, “and nothing would be lacking for my happiness.”

They could not help laughing at the sailor’s comment.

But as a result of the discovery of this case it was now more than ever necessary to make a serious exploration of the island. It was therefore agreed that the next day, at daybreak, they would get underway, ascend the Mercy in order to reach the western shore. If some castaways had landed on this part of the coast, it was to be feared that they were without resources and that help should be brought to them without delay.

During this day, the various items were carried to Granite House and methodically arranged in the large hall. This day—October 29th—was a Sunday and before going to bed Herbert asked the engineer if he would read to them some passage from the gospel.

“Gladly,” replied Cyrus Smith.

He took the sacred book and was going to open it when Pencroff stopped him and said to him:

“Mister Cyrus, I am superstitious. Open at random and read to us the first verse that catches your eye. We will see if it applies to our situation.”

“Mister Cyrus, I am superstitious.”

Cyrus Smith smiled at the sailor’s idea and obliging he opened the gospel exactly where a ribbon separated the pages.

Suddenly his attention was fixed on a red cross which was made with a pencil and placed in front of Chapter VII, Verse 8 of the Gospel of Saint Matthew.

And he read this verse as follows:

“For everyone that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth.”

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Abandoned

Chapter III

Departure—The rising tide—Elms and nettle trees—Various plants—The jacamar—Aspect of the forest—Giant eucalypti—Why they are called “fever trees”—Troops of monkeys—The waterfall—Night encampment.

THE next day, October 30th, all was ready for the proposed exploration which these latest events had rendered so urgent. In fact, things had changed to such an extent that the colonists of Lincoln Island no longer needed help for themselves but were well able to bring it to others.

It was therefore agreed that they would ascend the Mercy, as far as the river’s current would make it practical. A large part of the trip would thereby be completed without fatigue, and the explorers could transport their provisions and their arms to an advanced point on the west of the island.

It was necessary, in fact, to think not only of the things which they should carry with them but also of those which chance would perhaps permit them to bring back to Granite House. If there had been a wreck on the coast, as was generally supposed, there would be no lack of wreckage, which would be their lawful prize. In that event the cart would, without doubt, be more useful than the fragile canoe. However, the cart was heavy and large. It was necessary to drag it so that it was not easy to use. This led Pencroff to express the regret that the chest had not contained, besides his “half-pound of tobacco”, a pair of energetic New Jersey horses, which would have been very useful to the colony!

The provisions, which were already loaded by Neb, consisted of preserved meat and several gallons of beer and fermented liquor, that is to say enough to sustain them for three days—the longest lapse of time which Cyrus Smith assigned to the exploration. Moreover, they could count on reprovisioning en route, if need be, and Neb took care not to forget the small portable stove.

Of the tools, the colonists took the two woodsmen’s axes, which could be used to cut a path through the thick forest and, of the instruments, the telescope and the pocket compass.

For weapons, they chose the two flint-lock guns, which would be more useful on the island than the percussion fowling pieces, the first using only flint which would be easy to replace and the latter needing fulminating caps, the frequent use of which would soon exhaust their limited supply. However, they also took one of the carbines and several cartridges. As to the powder of which there was about fifty pounds, it was necessary to take some of it, but the engineer counted on manufacturing an explosive substance which would permit them to husband it. In addition to the firearms, they added five cutlasses, well sheathed in leather, and in this condition the colonists could venture forth into this vast forest with some chance of attending to their affairs.

Needless to say, Pencroff, Herbert and Neb, thus armed, were at the highest pitch of happiness even though Cyrus Smith had made them promise not to fire a shot needlessly.

At six o’clock in the morning the canoe was pushed into the water. All embarked, including Top, and they steered towards the mouth of the Mercy.

The tide had begun to rise only in the last half-hour. There would therefore be several more hours of current which it would be expedient to profit from, because later the ebb would make it more difficult to ascend the river. The tide was already strong for there would be a full moon in three days. It was sufficient to keep the canoe in the mainstream where it moved swiftly between the two high banks, without the need to increase its speed with the aid of the oars.

In a few minutes the explorers arrived at the bend in the Mercy, at the same angle where Pencroff had made his first raft of wood seven months earlier.

After this rather sharp angle the river, becoming more rounded, slanted toward the southwest and its course developed under a shade of conifers with a permanent verdure.

The aspect of the banks of the Mercy was magnificent. Cyrus Smith and his companions could not but admire, without reservations, the beautiful effects so easily produced by nature with the water and the trees. As they advanced, the forest species changed. On the right bank of the river there rose magnificent specimens of ulmaceous plants, those precious French elms so sought after by builders, which have the property of bearing up well in water for a long time. Then there were numerous groups belonging to the same family, nettle trees among others, whose almond produces a very useful oil. Further on Herbert noted some lardizabalaceae whose flexible boughs, soaked in water, make an excellent cord, and two or three ebony trunks of a beautiful black color, divided into capricious veins.

From time to time, in certain places where it was easy to land, the canoe stopped. Then Gideon Spilett, Herbert and Pencroff, with gun in hand and preceded by Top, jumped to shore. Without expecting any game, they hoped to find some useful plant that they would not disdain and the young naturalist had his heart’s desire because he discovered a sort of wild spinach of the chenopodiaceae family and numerous specimens of crucifers of the cabbage family which it would certainly be possible to “civilize” by transplanting. There were cress, horse radish, turnips and finally small slightly rough branchy stems, a meter high, which produced an almost brown grain.

“Do you know what this plant is?” Herbert asked the sailor.

“Do you know what this plant is?”

“Tobacco,” cried Pencroff, who evidently had never seen his favorite plant except in the bowl of his pipe.

“No, Pencroff!” replied Herbert, “it is not tobacco, it is mustard.”

“What’s the good of mustard!” replied the sailor, “but if by chance a tobacco plant should present itself, my boy, don’t disregard it.”

“We will find it one day!” said Gideon Spilett.

“True,” cried Pencroff, “and on that day I will know that there is nothing lacking on our island.”

These various plants, which were carefully uprooted, were carried to the canoe which Cyrus Smith, always absorbed in his thoughts, had not left.

The reporter, Herbert and Pencroff went ashore several times, sometimes on the right bank of the Mercy, sometimes on the left bank. The former was less abrupt but the latter was more wooded. By consulting his pocket compass the engineer knew that the direction of the river from the first bend was essentially southwest and northeast and nearly straight for a length of about three miles. But he supposed that this direction would change further on and that the Mercy ascended to the northwest toward the buttresses of Mount Franklin which fed these waters.

During one of these excursions, Gideon Spilett succeeded in getting hold of two couples of living gallinaceae. They were birds with long slender beaks, long necks, short wings and without an apparent tail. Herbert correctly gave them the name of “tinamous” and it was resolved that they would be the first occupants of the future poultry yard.

But until then the guns had not spoken and the first detonation that resounded in this forest of the Far West was provoked by the appearance of a beautiful bird which anatomically resembled a kingfisher.

“I recognize it,” cried Pencroff, whose gun went off in spite of himself.

“What do you recognize?” asked the reporter.

“That bird that escaped us on our first excursion and whose name we have given to this part of the forest.”

“A jacamar!” cried Herbert.

In fact it was a jacamar, a beautiful bird whose rather stiff plumage has a metallic luster. A few lead pellets brought it to the ground and Top carried it to the canoe, as well as about a dozen “touraco lories”, a sort of parrot the size of a pigeon, all daubed in green with part of its wing of a crimson color and a narrow festooned crest with a white border. The honor of this shot belonged to the lad and he showed pride in it. Lorries make better game than jacamars, whose flesh is a little tough, but it was difficult to persuade Pencroff that he not killed the king of edible birds.

It was ten o’clock in the morning when the canoe reached a second bend in the Mercy, about five miles from its mouth. They halted here to eat and this halt, sheltered by large beautiful trees, was prolonged for half an hour.

They halted here to eat.

The river still measured sixty to seventy feet in width and five to ten feet in depth. The engineer observed that numerous tributaries enlarged its flow but they were only simple unnavigable streams. As to the forest, which could be a part of the forests of the Far West as well as Jacamar Woods, their extent was lost to view. In no part, neither under the tall tree clusters nor on the banks of the Mercy, was the presence of man revealed. The explorers could not find any suspicious traces and it was evident that the woodsman’s axe had never slashed these trees, that never had the pioneer’s knife cut these creepers stretching from one trunk to the other amidst the thick brushwood and tall grass. If several castaways had landed on the island they still had not left the shore and it was not under this thick cover that they should look for survivors of the presumed shipwreck.

The engineer therefore manifested a certain haste in reaching the western coast of Lincoln Island, at least five miles away according to his estimate. The navigation was resumed and although from its actual direction the Mercy seemed to flow not toward the shore but rather toward Mount Franklin, it was decided that they would make use of the canoe as long as they would find sufficient water under its keel to keep it afloat. This would save fatigue as well as gain time because it would have been necessary to blaze a trail with an axe across the thick woods.

But soon the current failed completely either because it was low tide—which was the case at this hour—or because it was no longer felt at this distance from the mouth of the Mercy. It was then necessary to use the oars, Neb and Herbert being seated on their bench, Pencroff at the scull, and the ascent of the river was continued.

It then seemed that the forest tended to be thinner toward the shore of the Far West. The trees here were less crowded and were often isolated. But, because they had more space, they profited from the pure and free air which circulated around them and they were magnificent.

What splendid specimens of the flora of this latitude! Their presence would certainly suffice for a botonist to name without hesitation the parallel that crossed Lincoln Island.

“Eucalyptus,” cried Herbert.

They were, in fact, those superb trees, the last giants of the extra-tropical zone, the congeners of the eucalyptus of Australia and of New Zealand, both situated on the same latitude as Lincoln Island. Several rose to a height of two hundred feet. Their trunk measured twenty feet around the base and their bark, furrowed with a network of perfumed resin, measured up to five inches in thickness. Nothing was more marvellous nor more singular than these enormous specimens of the myrtaceae family, whose foliage presented their profile to the light, allowing the sun’s rays to strike the ground.

At the foot of these eucalyptus, a fresh grass covered the ground and from the tufts, small birds flew away shining in luminous rays like flying precious stones.

“Those are trees!” cried Neb, “but are they good for anything?”

“Pooh!” replied Pencroff. “Vegetable giants are like human giants, only good for showing at fairs.”

“I believe you are in error, Pencroff,” replied Gideon Spilett, “and that the wood from eucalyptus is used very advantageously in cabinet making.”

“And I will add,” said the lad, “that these eucalyptus belong to a family that comprise many useful members: the guava-tree which gives guavas; the clove tree which produces cloves; the pomegranate tree which yields pomegranates; the ‘eugenia cauliflora’ whose fruit makes a passable wine; the ‘ungi’ myrtle which contains an excellent alcoholic liqueur; the caryophyllus myrtle whose bark makes an esteemed cinnamon; the ‘eugenia pimenta’ from which comes Jamaica pimento; the common myrtle whose berries can replace pepper; the ‘eucalyptus robusta’ which produces a sort of excellent manna; the ‘eucalyptus gunei’ whose sap transforms into beer by fermentation; and finally all those trees known under the name of ‘trees of life’ or ‘ironbarks’ which belong to this myrtaceae family that comprises forty six genuses and thirteen hundred species.”

They let the lad go on, who delivered this mini-lesson in botany with much heartiness. Cyrus Smith smiled and listened to him and Pencroff showed a pride impossible to express.

“Good, Herbert,” replied Pencroff, “but I will venture to say that all these useful specimens that you mentioned are not giants like these!”

“Indeed, Pencroff.”

“That supports what I said,” replied the sailor, “namely that these giants are good for nothing!”

“You are mistaken, Pencroff,” the engineer then said, “and these very giant eucalyptus which shelter us are good for something.”

“And what is that?”

“To cleanse the lands that they inhabit. Do you know what they are called in Australia and New Zealand?”

“No, Mister Cyrus.”

“They are called ‘fever trees’.”

“Because they bring it on?”

“No, because they prevent it!”

“Good. I will note this,” said the reporter.

“Note then, my dear Spilett, that it appears that the presence of eucalyptus suffices to neutralize marshy miasmas. This natural preventive has been tried in certain countries of southern Europe and North Africa whose soil is absolutely unhealthy and the health of their inhabitants has been improved little by little. It is likewise for intermittent fevers in those regions covered by forests of these myrtaceae. This fact is now beyond doubt and it is a happy circumstance for us colonists of Lincoln Island.”

“Ah! What an island! What a blessed island!” cried Pencroff. “I tell you that it lacks nothing... except for...”

“That will come, Pencroff, it will be found,” replied the engineer, “but let us get back to our navigation and push as far as the river can carry our canoe!”

The exploration was thus continued for at least two miles amidst a country covered with eucalyptus which dominated all of the woods in this portion of the island. The space that it covered extended beyond the limits of sight on each side of the Mercy, whose rather winding bed was cut there between high verdant banks. This bed was often obstructed by tall grass and even sharp rocks, which made the navigation rather laborious. The action of the oars was cramped and Pencroff had to push with a pole. They also felt the bottom coming up little by little and that the moment was not far off when, for lack of water, they would be obliged to stop. Already the sun was low on the horizon and the long shadows of the trees fell on the ground. Cyrus Smith, seeing that they could not reach the west shore of the island on this day, resolved to camp at the very place where they would be forced to stop for lack of water. He estimated that there still were five or six miles to the coast and this distance was too much to try to cross during the night, in the midst of these unknown woods.

The boat was therefore pushed, without slackening, through the forest which was becoming thicker and which also seemed inhabited. If the sailor’s eyes did not deceive him, he thought he saw bands of monkeys running under the brushwood. Several times two or three of these animals even stopped at some distance from the canoe and looked at the colonists without manifesting any terror as if, seeing men for the first time, they had not yet learned to fear them. It would have been easy to kill these quadrumanes with gunshots but Cyrus Smith was opposed to this useless massacre which Pencroff found a little tempting. Besides it was prudent because these vigorous monkeys, endowed with an extreme agility, could be formidable and it would be better not to provoke them with an inopportune aggression.

The monkeys looked at the colonists.

It is true that the sailor considered the monkey from the purely alimentary point of view and, in fact, these animals are solely herbivores, making an excellent game; but since provisions abounded, it was inappropriate to use munitions wastefully.

About four o’clock the navigation of the Mercy became difficult because its course was obstructed by aquatic plants and rocks. The banks rose little by little and already the bed of the river was hollowed out between the first buttresses of Mount Franklin. Its source could not be far away since it was fed by all the waters from the southern slopes of the mountain.

“In a quarter of an hour,” said the sailor, “we will be forced to stop, Mister Cyrus.”

“Well, then we will stop, Pencroff, and we will organize a camp for the night.”

“At what distance can we be from Granite House?” asked Herbert.

“Very nearly seven miles,” replied the engineer, “taking into account however the detours of the river which have carried us to the northwest.”

“Shall we continue to go forward?” asked the reporter.

“Yes, for as long as we can,” replied Cyrus Smith. “Tomorrow, at the break of day, we will abandon the canoe. In two hours, I hope, we will traverse the distance which separates us from the coast and we will have almost the entire day to explore the shore.”

“Forward,” replied Pencroff.

But soon the canoe scraped the stony bottom of the river whose width at that point did not exceed twenty feet. A thick verdure grew over the river’s bed and enveloped it in semi-obscurity. They also heard the rather distinct noise of a waterfall which indicated the presence of a natural barrier several hundred feet upstream.

And in fact, at a last detour of the river, a cascade appeared through the trees. The canoe hit against the bottom and a few moments later it was moored to a trunk near the right bank.

It was about five o’clock. The last rays of the sun passed under the thick branches and obliquely struck the small falls, whose wet spray glistened with the colors of the prism. Further on the Mercy disappeared under the brushwood where it was fed by some hidden source. The various brooks which ran into it lower down made it a true river but here it was only a clear stream without any depth.

They camped in this very place, which was charming. The colonists landed and a fire was lit under a group of large nettle trees among whose branches Cyrus Smith and his companions could find refuge for the night, if need be.

Supper was soon devoured because they were famished and there was no other question but that of going to sleep. Inasmuch as several roars of a suspicious nature were heard before the end of the day, the fire was fed for the night so as to protect the slumberers with its crackling flames. Neb and Pencroff even took turns in watching it and did not spare the fuel. Perhaps they were not wrong since they thought they saw the shadows of animals wandering around the encampment, either under the brushwood or among the branches; but the night passed without accident and the next day, the 31st of October, at five o’clock in the morning, all were on foot ready to leave.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Abandoned

Chapter IV

Going toward the coast—Several bands of quadrumanes—A new watercourse—Why the tide was not felt—A forest on the shore—Reptile Promontory—Gideon Spilett makes Herbert envious—The noise of the bamboos.

IT was six o’clock in the morning when the colonists, after an early meal, took to the road with the intention of reaching the western coast of the island by the shortest way. How much time would be needed to get there? Cyrus Smith had said two hours but that evidently depended on the nature of the obstacles that would present themselves. This part of the Far West seemed crowded like an immense cospe composed of extremely varied species. It was therefore likely that they would have to blaze a trail through the grass, the brushwood, and the creepers and march with axe in hand—and gun also doubtless, judging from the cries of the animals heard in the night.

The exact position of the encampment was determined by the location of Mount Franklin and since the volcano rose in the north at a distance of less than three miles, they must take a straight route to the southwest to reach the western shore.

They left after having carefully moored the canoe. Pencroff and Neb carried the provisions which would suffice to feed the small troop for a least two days. There was no thought of hunting and the engineer even recommended to his companions that they avoid any impulsive gunshots in order not to signal their presence to anyone on shore.

The first blows of the axe were made against the brushwood, among the mastic tree bushes a little above the cascade. With compass in hand, Cyrus Smith indicated the direction to follow.

The forest was composed, for the most part, of trees already recognized in the neighborhood of the lake and Grand View Plateau. They were deodars, douglas, casuarinas, gum trees, eucalyptus, dragon trees, hibiscus, cedars and other species, generally of a mediocre height because their number hindered their development. The colonists could only advance slowly on this path that they had blazed in a region which, in the engineer’s opinion, had to be linked further on to Red Creek.

After their departure, the colonists descended the lower slopes that made up the mountain system of the island, on a very dry terrain but whose luxurious vegetation left the feeling of the presence of an underground network of some nearby stream. However, Cyrus Smith did not remember having recognized, at the time of his excursion to the crater, any other watercourses than those of Red Creek and the Mercy.

During the first hours of the excursion they again saw monkeys who seemed to show astonishment at the sight of men whose aspect was new to them. Gideon Spilett asked humorously if the agile and robust quadrumanes did not consider his companions and him as degenerate brothers! And frankly, these simple pedestrians, obstructed at each step by underbrush, entangled by creepers, barred by tree trunks, did not distinguish themselves compared to these supple animals who bounded from branch to branch and were stopped by nothing in their path. There were numerous monkeys but very fortunately they did not manifest any hostile disposition.

They also saw several wild boar, agoutis, kangaroos and other rodents and two or three koalas whom Pencroff would have willingly greeted with gunshots.

“But,” he said, “hunting is not allowed. Skip about then, my friends, jump and fly in peace! We will have a few words to say to you on our return!”

At nine thirty in the morning the road, which headed directly to the southwest, suddenly found itself barred by an unknown watercourse thirty to forty feet wide, whose vivid current, propelled by its slope and broken by numerous rocks, fell with a grating noise. The creek was deep and clear but it was absolutely unnavigable.

“We are cut off!” cried Neb

“No,” replied Herbert, “it is only a stream and we will be able to swim across.”

“What for?” replied Cyrus Smith. “It is evident that this creek runs to the sea. Let us remain on its left, following the bank and I will not be surprised if we promptly reach the coast. Let’s go.”

“One moment,” said the reporter. “The name of this creek, my friends? Let us not leave our geography incomplete.”

“Right,” said Pencroff.

“Name it, my child,” said the engineer, addressing the lad.

“Would it not be better to wait until we reach the mouth?” noted Herbert.

“So be it,” replied Cyrus Smith. “Let us follow it then without stopping.”

“Wait another moment,” said Pencroff.

“What is it?” asked the reporter.

“If hunting is prohibited, fishing is permitted, I suppose,” said the sailor.

“We have no time to lose,” replied the engineer.

“Oh!, five minutes!” replied Pencroff. “I only ask five minutes in the interest of our lunch.”

And Pencroff, lying down on the bank, plunged his arms into the vivid water and soon made several dozen beautiful crayfish skip about as they swarmed among the rocks.

“This will be good!” cried Neb, coming to help the sailor.

“I tell you that, except for tobacco, there is everything on the island!” murmured Pencroff with a sigh.

It did not take five minutes for this wonderful fishing because the crayfish swarmed about the creek. These shellfish, whose shell has a cobalt blue color, have a snout armed with a small tooth. They filled up a sack and went on their way.

Since following the bank of the new watercourse, the colonists marched more easily and rapidly. Moreover, the banks were free of any human traces. From time to time they picked up some traces left by large animals who came regularly to quench their thirst at this stream, but notwithstanding, it still was not in this part of the Far West that the peccary had received the lead bullet which had cost Pencroff a molar.

However, on considering how rapidly the current flowed toward the sea, Cyrus Smith was lead to suppose that his companions and he were further from the western coast than he believed. And in fact, at this hour the tide was rising on shore and it should have turned back the creek’s current if its mouth was only several miles away. Now this effect was not produced and the flow followed its natural slope. The engineer was very astonished at this and he frequently consulted his compass in order to assure himself that some detour in the river was not leading them into the interior of the Far West.

However, the creek became wider and little by little its waters became less tumultuous. The trees on the right bank were as crowded as those on the left bank and it was impossible to see beyond. These woods were certainly deserted because Top did not bark and the intelligent animal would not have neglected to signal the presence of any strangers in the neighborhood of the watercourse.

At ten thirty, to the great surprise of Cyrus Smith, Herbert, who was a little ahead, suddenly stopped and cried:

“The sea!”

And several moments later, stopping at the edge of the forest, the colonists saw the western shore of the island develop before their eyes.

But what a contrast between this coast and the eastern coast on which chance had first thrown them! No granite wall, no reef, not even a sandy beach. The forest formed the shore and its last trees, battered by the waves, leaned over the water. It was not a shore such as nature usually makes, covered with either sand or rocks, but an admirable border made up of the most beautiful trees in the world. The bank was elevated so that it was higher than level of the highest tides, and the luxuriant soil was supported by a granite base. The splendid forest species seemed to be as firmly planted as any in the interior of the island.

The bank was elevated.

The colonists found themselves at the opening of a small unimportant cove which could not even hold two or three fishing boats, and which served as the narrow entrance to the new creek; but this was the curious thing, that the water, instead of reaching the sea by a gentle slope, fell from a height of more than forty feet—this explained why, at the time of high tide, it was not felt upstream. In fact, the tides of the Pacific, even at their maximum elevation, could never reach the level of the river whose bed was elevated, and doubtless millions of years would pass before the waters would erode this wall of granite and form a practical opening. They agreed to give this watercourse the name of “Falls River.”

Beyond, toward the north, the shore, formed by the forest, extended for a distance of about two miles; then the trees became scarce and beyond that were very picturesque heights following a nearly straight line which ran from north to south. In contrast, over the entire portion of the shore between Falls River and Reptile Promontory, there were only woods with magnificent trees, some straight, others bending over with the long waves of the sea bathing their roots. Now it was on this coast, that is to say over the entire Serpentine Peninsula, that the exploration had to be continued because this part of the shore offered a refuge that the other, arid and savage, did not provide for any castaways whoever they were.

The weather was beautiful and clear, and at the top of a cliff on which Neb and Pencroff set out lunch, the view extended quite far. The horizon was perfectly distinct and there were no sails there. Over all of this shore, as far as the view could extend, there was no vessel, not even a wreck. But the engineer would establish this only when he had explored the coast up to the very extremity of Serpentine Peninsula.

They quickly finished lunch and at eleven thirty Cyrus Smith gave the signal to leave. Instead of traveling at the edge of a cliff or on a sandy shore, the colonists would have to follow the line of trees running along the coast.

The distance which separated the mouth of Falls River from Reptile Promontory was about twelve miles. In four hours on a practical shore, without rushing, the colonists would have been able to cross this distance; but it would require twice this time to reach their goal, what with trees to go around, brushwood to cut, creepers to break and the detours which would lengthen the distance.

Moreover, there was nothing to indicate a recent wreck on this shore. It was true, as Gideon Spilett noted, that the sea was able to wash away anything, and that they should not conclude that, because they found no traces, that a vessel had not been thrown on the coast on this part of Lincoln Island.

The reporter’s reasoning was justified and besides, the incident of the lead bullet proved positively that in the last three months at most, a gun had been fired on the island.

It was already five o’clock and the extremity of Serpentine Peninsula was still two miles away. It was evident that after having reached Reptile Promontory, Cyrus Smith and his companions would no longer have the time to return before sundown to the encampment that they had established near the sources of the Mercy. It would then be necessary to pass the night at the promontory itself. But provisions were not lacking which was fortunate because furry game no longer showed itself on this shore. To the contrary, birds abounded here, jacamars, couroucous, trogons, grouse, lorries, parakeets, cockatoos, pheasants, pigeons and a hundred others. There was not a tree without a nest and not a nest that was not full of flapping wings.

Around seven o’clock in the evening, the colonists, weary with fatigue, arrived at Reptile Promontory, a sort of volute strangely cut out of the sea. Here ended the forest of the peninsula. The entire southern part of the coast again took on the usual look of a shore with its rocks, its reefs and its beaches. It was therefore possible that a disabled vessel could take refuge on this portion of the island, but with night coming on it would be necessary to put off the exploration to the next day.

Pencroff and Herbert immediately began to look for a good place to establish a camp. The last trees of the forest of the Far West died out at this point and among them the lad recognized some thick bamboo clusters.

“Good!” he said. “Here is a precious discovery.”

“Precious?” replied Pencroff.

“Without doubt,” answered Herbert. “I can tell you, Pencroff, that bamboo bark, cut into flexible lath, serves to make baskets; that this bark, reduced to a paste and macerated, serves to make rice paper; that the stems are used, according to their size, for canes, tobacco pipes and water pipes; that large bamboos form an excellent construction material, light and sturdy, which are never attacked by insects. I should even add that by sawing the bamboo internodes and keeping for the bottom a portion of the transverse partition which forms the node, sturdy and handy pots are obtained which are very much in use in China! No! That does not satisfy you. But...”

“But?...”

“But I will tell you, if you don’t know it, that in India they eat these bamboos like asparagus.”

“Asparagus thirty feet high!” cried the sailor. “And are they good?”

“Excellent,” replied Herbert. “Only it is not the thirty foot high stalks that they eat but the young bamboo shoots.”

“Perfect, my boy, perfect!” replied Pencroff.

“I will also add that the pith of the new stalks, pickled in vinegar, makes a very appreciated condiment.”

“Better and better, Herbert.”

“And finally, that these bamboos exude a sweet liqueur between their nodes from which a very agreeable beverage can be made.”

“Is that all?” asked the sailor.

“That is all!”

“And anything to smoke, perchance?”

“Nothing to smoke, my poor Pencroff!”

Herbert and the sailor did not look long for a favorable place to pass the night. The high rocks on the shore—very broken up because they were violently battered by the sea under the influence of the winds from the southwest—presented hollows which would permit them to sleep sheltered from the weather. But at the moment when they were about to enter one of these excavations, some formidable roaring stopped them.

“Get back!” cried Pencroff. “We only have some small pellets in our guns, and beasts that roar so well would be as troubled with them as with a grain of salt!”

And the sailor, seizing Herbert by the arms, dragged him to the shelter of the rocks just as a magnificent animal showed itself at the entrance to the cavern.

It was a jaguar of a size at least equal to that of its congeners of Asia, that is to say that it measured more than five feet from the extremity of its head to the beginning of its tail. Its fawn colored fur was enhanced by several rows of regularly marked black spots and with white fur on its belly. Herbert recognized this ferocious rival of the tiger, as terrible as the cougar.

The jaguar advanced and looked around himself, fur bristling, eyes on fire, as if he had not sensed man for the first time.

At this moment the reporter came around the high rocks and Herbert, thinking that he had not seen the jaguar, went toward him; but Gideon Spilett motioned to him and continued walking. This was not his first tiger and he advanced to within ten feet of the animal and remained immobile, the carbine to his shoulder without a muscle trembling.

The jaguar gathered himself together and pounced on the hunter but at that moment a ball struck him between the eyes and he fell dead.

A ball struck him between the eyes.

Herbert and Pencroff ran toward the jaguar. Neb and Cyrus Smith rushed up from their side and they took a few moments to look at the animal stretched out on the ground. Its magnificent fur would make an ornament in the large hall of Granite House.

“Ah, Mister Spilett. How I admire you and envy you,” cried Herbert, in a fit of rather natural enthusiasm.

“Well, my boy,” replied the reporter, “you would have done as well.”

“Me! Such coolness...”

“Imagine, Herbert, that the jaguar is a hare, and you will shoot more calmly than anyone.”

“There!” replied Pencroff. “It is not more difficult than that!”

“And now,” said Gideon Spilett, “since the jaguar has left his den, my friends, I do not see why we should not occupy it for the night.”

“But others may return!” said Pencroff.

“It will suffice to light a fire at the entrance to the cavern,” said the reporter, “and they will not venture to cross the threshold.”

“To the jaguar’s house then!” replied the sailor, dragging the animal’s body behind him.

The colonists went toward the abandoned den and there, while Neb skinned the jaguar, his companions piled up on the threshold a large quantity of dry wood which the forest furnished abundantly.

But Cyrus Smith, seeing the bamboo clusters, went to cut a certain quantity which he mixed with the fuel for the fire.

That done, they installed themselves in the grotto whose sand was strewn with bones; the guns were armed for any emergency in case of a sudden attack; they supped and then, when it came time to go to sleep, they set fire to the wood piled up at the entrance to the cavern.

A crackling noise soon burst out. It was the bamboo, reached by the flames, which detonated like firecrackers. Nothing but this noise would suffice to frighten the most audacious animals.

And this means of producing vivid detonations was not the engineer’s invention. According to Marco Polo, the Tartars, over the centuries, used it with success to drive the dreaded beasts of central Asia away from their encampments.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Abandoned

Chapter V

Proposition to return by the southern shore—Configuration of the coast—Search for a presumed wreck—A wreck in the air—Discovery of a small natural port—Midnight on the banks of the Mercy—A drifting canoe.

CYRUS SMITH and his companions slept like innocent marmots in the cavern which the jaguar had so politely left at their disposal.

At sunrise all were on the shore at the very extremity of the promontory, looking toward the horizon which was visible for two thirds of its circumference. For one last time the engineer could confirm that no sail, no remains of a vessel appeared on the sea, and the telescope did not show anything suspicious.

Neither was there anything on the shore, at least on the straight part that formed the southern coastline of the promontory for a distance of three miles, because beyond, an indentation of land concealed the remainder of the shore and even at the extremity of Serpentine Peninsula they could not see Cape Claw, hidden by high rocks.

The rest of the southern shore of the island remained to be explored. Now, should they try to undertake this exploration immediately and devote this day of November 1st to it?

This was not in their original plan. In fact when the canoe was abandoned at the sources of the Mercy, it had been agreed that after having observed the western coast, they would return to it and go back to Granite House via the Mercy. At the time Cyrus Smith believed that the western shore could offer a refuge either to boat in distress or to a vessel on its regular course; but from the moment that the coast showed no landing place, it became necessary to search the south of the island to find there what they had not been able to find in the west.

It was Gideon Spilett who proposed to continue the exploration so that the question of the presumed wreck could be completely resolved. He asked at what distance Cape Claw could be from the extremity of the peninsula.

“About thirty miles,” replied the engineer, “if we take into account the curvature of the coast.”

“Thirty miles!” replied Gideon Spilett. “That will be a good day’s march. Nevertheless I think that we should return to Granite House by the southern shore.”

“But,” noted Herbert, “it is at least another ten miles from Cape Claw to Granite House.”

“Make it forty miles in all,” replied the reporter, “and let us not hesitate to do it. At least we will have observed this unknown coast and we will not have to undertake this exploration again.”

“Quite right,” Pencroff then said. “But the canoe?”

“The canoe has remained alone for one day at the sources of the Mercy,” replied Gideon Spilett. “It can stay there just as well for two days. For the moment we can hardly say that the island is infested with thieves.”

“However,” said the sailor, “when I recall the story of the tortoise, I no longer have that confidence.”

“The tortoise! The tortoise!” replied the reporter. “Don’t you know that it was the sea that turned it over?”

“Who knows?” murmured the engineer.

“But...” said Neb.

It was evident that Neb had something to say because he opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

“What did you want to say, Neb?” the engineer asked him.

“If we return via the shore to Cape Claw,” replied Neb, “after having doubled the cape, we will be stopped...”

“By the Mercy!” replied Herbert, “and in fact, we will have neither a bridge nor a boat with which to cross it!”

“Fine, Mister Cyrus,” replied Pencroff, “with a few floating trunks we will not be inconvenienced in crossing the river.”

“That’s not important,” said Gideon Spilett, “it will be useful to construct a bridge if we want to have easy access to the Far West.”

“A bridge!” cried Pencroff. “Well, isn’t Mister Smith the best engineer in his profession? But he will make us a bridge when we want to have a bridge. As to transporting you this evening to the other side of the Mercy without wetting a stitch of your clothing, I’ll be responsible for that. We still have a day’s provisions and that is all that we need and besides, we may have more game today than we had yesterday. Let’s go!”

The reporter’s proposition, very vividly supported by the sailor, gained general approval because everyone wanted to settle his doubts and by returning via Cape Claw, the exploration would be complete. But there wasn’t an hour to lose because forty miles was a long trip and they could not count on reaching Granite House before night.

At six o’clock in the morning the small troop was on its way. As a precaution against any undesirable encounters with animals on two or four feet, the guns were loaded with ball and Top, who was in the lead, was ordered to scour the edge of the forest.

On leaving the extremity of the promontory which formed the tail of the peninsula, the coast was rounded for a distance of five miles, which was rapidly crossed without the most minute investigations having shown the least trace of a landing either in the past or recently, neither a wreck nor the remainder of an encampment nor the cinders of an extinct fire nor a footprint.

The colonists arrived at the corner where the curvature of the coast ended. They were then able to extend their view to the northeast over Washington Bay and over the entire extent of the southern shore of the island. Twenty five miles away the coast ended at Cape Claw which was slightly blurred by the morning fog. A mirage made it seem suspended between land and sea. Between the spot occupied by the colonists and the beginning of the immense bay, the shore was composed of a very smooth and flat beach bordered by trees. Further along, the shore became very irregular with sharp points projecting into the sea, and finally several blackish rocks were piled up in picturesque disorder ending at Cape Claw.

Such was the development of this part of the island that the explorers saw for the first time. They quickly surveyed it after having stopped for a moment.

“A vessel that would put in here,” Pencroff said, “would inevitably be lost. This beach of sand extends up to the sea and the reefs beyond! Dangerous waters!”

“But a least something of this vessel would remain,” the reporter noted.

“Some pieces of wood would remain on the reefs but nothing on the sand,” replied the sailor.

“Why so?”

“Because the sand is even more dangerous than the rocks, engulfing everything that is thrown upon it and only a few days would be needed for the hull of a vessel of several hundred tons to disappear there entirely!”

“So, Pencroff,” asked the engineer, “if a vessel ran aground on these banks, it is not astonishing that there is no longer any trace of it?”

“No, Mister Smith, with the aid of time or tempest. Still, it would be surprising, even in this case, if some debris of the masts and spars were not thrown on the bank beyond the reach of the sea.”

“Let us then continue our search,” replied Cyrus Smith.

An hour after noon the colonists arrived at the beginning of Washington Bay and at this time they had covered a distance of twenty miles.

They halted for lunch.

There the coast became bizarrely irregular and was covered by a long line of reefs behind which were banks of sand. The tide was low at the moment but would not be long in covering it. They saw the supple waves of the sea breaking against the tops of rocks, and then turning into long foam fringes. From this point up to Cape Claw, there was little space for the beach which was confined between the edge of reefs and that of the forest.

The trip thus became more difficult because of the innumerable rocks which encumbered the shore. The granite wall also tended to become higher as they went on and they could see only the green tops of trees that crowned it, not disturbed by any wind.

After resting for a half hour, the colonists again took to the road and no point on the reefs or beach escaped their attention. Pencroff and Neb even ventured among the reefs anytime some object attracted their attention. But there was no wreck and they were misled by some bizarre shape of rocks. They did note however, that edible shellfish abounded in these waters but they could not profitably exploit this until communication would be established between the two banks of the Mercy and also when the means of transport would be perfected.

There was no indication of the presumed wreck on this shore notwithstanding that fact that the hull of a vessel was an object of some importance and should have been visible. Some of the debris should have carried to shore, as had the case found at least twenty miles further on, but there was nothing here.

About three o’clock, Cyrus Smith and his companions arrived at a narrow, well enclosed inlet which was not associated with a watercourse. It formed a real small natural port, invisible from the sea, which could be reached by a narrow passage between the reefs.

At the rear of this inlet some violent convulsion had torn up the rocky shore and an excavation on a gentle slope gave access to the upper plateau. This was situated at least ten miles from Cape Claw and consequently four miles in a straight line from Grand View Plateau.

Gideon Spilett proposed to his companions that they halt here. They accepted because the trip had sharpened everyone’s appetite and, though it was not dinner time, no one could refuse a piece of venison. This meal would permit them to wait for supper at Granite House.

A few minutes later, the colonists were seated at the foot of a magnificent cluster of maritime pines, devouring the food that Neb had taken from his knapsack.

This spot was fifty or sixty feet above the level of the sea. The radius of their view was rather extended, passing over the last rocks of the cape and into Union Bay. But neither the islet nor Grand View Plateau was visible, nor could it be from that position because the level of the ground and the screen of trees abruptly masked the northern horizon.

Needless to say, in spite of the expanse of sea that could be seen by the explorers, and as much as the engineer’s telescope swept from point to point across this entire circle on which the sky and water blended, no vessel was seen.

Likewise on all this part of the shore that still remained for exploration, the telescope swept with the same care from the beach to the reefs, but no wreck appeared within the field of view of the instrument.

“Come,” said Gideon Spilett, “we must resign ourselves to the inevitable and take comfort in the thought that no one will come to dispute our possession of Lincoln Island.”

“But what about the lead bullet!” said Herbert. “It still wasn’t imagined, I suppose.”

“A thousand devils, no!” cried Pencroff, thinking of his missing molar.

“Then what can we conclude?” asked the reporter.

“This,” replied the engineer, “that in the last three months at most, a vessel, voluntarily or not, landed...”

“What! You admit, Cyrus, that it was engulfed without leaving any trace?” cried the reporter.

“No, my dear Spilett, but note that it is certain that a human being has set foot on this island and it appears none the less certain that he has now left it.”

“Then if I understand you, Mister Cyrus,” said Herbert, “the vessel went away?...”

“Evidently.”

“And we have lost a chance to leave?” said Neb.

“Past all hope, I’m afraid.”

“Well! Since the chance is lost, let us be on our way,” said Pencroff, who was already homesick for Granite House.

But hardly had he gotten up when Top came out of the woods barking loudly and holding in his mouth a scrap of cloth soiled with mud.

Neb tore this scrap from the dog’s mouth. It was a piece of strong cloth.

It was a piece of strong cloth.

Top continued to bark and by his coming and going he seemed to invite his master to follow him into the forest.

“Here is something which may explain my lead bullet!” cried Pencroff.

“A castaway” replied Herbert.

“Wounded perhaps!” said Neb.

“Or dead!” replied the reporter.

And everyone followed the dog among the large pines which formed the first screen of the forest. Cyrus Smith and his companions loaded their guns for any eventuality.

They had to advance rather deeply into the woods but to their great disappointment, they still did not see any footprints. Brushwood and creepers were intact and it was even necessary to cut them with the axe as they had done in the thickest part of the forest. It was thus difficult to admit that a human creature had already passed there. Still Top came and went, not as a dog who searched at random, but as a being endowed with a will, who is following up an idea.

After seven or eight minutes, Top stopped. The colonists arrived at a sort of clearing bordered by large trees. They looked around but saw nothing either under the brushwood or among the tree trunks.

“But what is it, Top?” asked Cyrus Smith.

Top barked louder jumping to the foot of a gigantic tree.

Suddenly Pencroff cried:

“Ah! Fine! Ah! Perfect!”

“What is it?” asked Gideon Spilett.

“We are looking for a wreck on sea or on land!”

“Well?”

“Well, it is to be found in the sky!”

And the sailor pointed to a sort of huge white cloth hanging on to the top of a pine, of which Top had brought a piece that had fallen to the ground.

“But this is not a wreck,” cried Gideon Spilett.

“I beg your pardon!” replied Pencroff.

“Indeed. It is...”

“It is all that remains of our aerial boat, of our balloon which is stranded up there at the top of this tree.”

Pencroff was not mistaken and he let out a magnificent hurrah and added:

“There is good cloth! It will furnish us with linen for years. With this we can make handkerchiefs and shirts! Hey! Mister Spilett, what do you think of an island where shirts grow on trees?”

It was truly a happy circumstance for the colonists of Lincoln Island that the balloon, after having made its last leap into the sky, fell back again on the island, and that they had this chance to find it. Either they could keep the envelope in its present form if they wanted to attempt another escape by air, or they could profitably use these several hundred yards of cotton cloth of good quality, after removing the varnish. Pencroff’s joy in thinking about this was unanimously and vividly shared.

But it was necessary to take this envelope from the tree on which it was hanging, to put it in a secure place, and this was no small job. Neb, Herbert and the sailor, having climbed to the top of the tree, had to use all their dexterity to disengage the enormous deflated balloon.

The operation lasted nearly two hours and not only the envelope with its valves, its springs, its copper trimmings, but the rope, that is to say the considerable cordage, the retaining ring and the anchor of the balloon were brought down. The envelope, except for the fracture, was in good condition, and only its lower portion was torn.

The operation lasted nearly two hours.

It was a fortune that had fallen from the sky.

“All the same, Mister Cyrus,” said the sailor, “if we ever decide to leave the island, it will not be in a balloon, will it? They do not go where one wants, these vessels of the sky, and we know something about that! Take my word, we will build a good boat of about twenty tons and you’ll allow me to cut a foresail and a jib out of this cloth. As to the rest, it will serve to clothe us.”

“We will see, Pencroff,” replied Cyrus Smith, “we will see.”

“While waiting, we must put it all in a safe place,” said Neb.

In fact, they could not think of transporting this load of cloth and cordage, whose weight was considerable, to Granite House. While waiting for a convenient vehicle to cart it, it was important not to leave these riches any longer to the mercy of the first storm. The colonists, uniting their efforts, succeeded in dragging everything to the shore where they discovered a rather large rocky cavern which would be visited neither by the wind nor the rain nor the sea thanks to its orientation.

“It is proper to have a wardrobe. We have a wardrobe,” said Pencroff, “but since it does not close with a key, it would be prudent to conceal the opening. I do not say this for two footed thieves but for thieves on four feet.”

At six o’clock in the evening all was stored. After having given the justified name of “Port Balloon” to this small indentation which formed the cove, they were back on the road to Cape Claw. Pencroff and the engineer chatted about various projects which it would be convenient to put into execution with the briefest delay. Before anything else, it was necessary to throw a bridge over the Mercy in order to establish easy communication with the south of the island; then the cart would come back to look for the balloon since the canoe would not suffice to transport it; then they would construct a decked boat, then, Pencroff rigging it as a cutter, they could undertake some voyages around the island, then, etc.

However, night came on and the sky was already dark when the colonists reached Cape Claw in the very same place where they had discovered the precious case. But there, as everywhere else, there was nothing to indicate any wreck whatsoever. They had to go back to the conclusion previously made by Cyrus Smith.

From Cape Claw to Granite House there still remained four miles which were rapidly crossed. It was after midnight when, after having followed the shore up to the mouth of the Mercy, the colonists arrived at the first bend formed by the river.

There the bed measured eighty feet in width and it was a difficult crossing but Pencroff, having made himself responsible for overcoming this difficulty, could not change his mind.

They had to admit that they were exhausted. The day’s march had been a long one and the incident of the balloon had not rested their arms and their legs. They were therefore in a hurry to get back to Granite House, to eat and to sleep and if a bridge had been constructed they would have found themselves in their dwelling in a quarter of an hour.

It was very dark. Pencroff then prepared to keep his promise by making a sort of raft that could cross the Mercy. Neb and he, armed with axes, chose two trees near the bank with which they counted on making the raft. They began to chop away.

Cyrus Smith and Gideon Spilett, seated on the bank, were waiting for the time when they could help their companions, while Herbert came and went without digressing far.

Suddenly the lad, who had ascended the river, came running back and pointing upstream:

“What is that floating there?” he cried.

Pencroff interrupted his work and vaguely saw a moving object in the shadows.

“A canoe!” he said.

All approached and saw, to their extreme surprise, a boat moving in the stream.

“Oh! A canoe!” cried the sailor in a lapse of caution, without thinking if it would perhaps be better to keep silent.

No answer. The boat still drifted. It was not more than a dozen feet away when the sailor cried:

“But it is our canoe! It broke its mooring and followed the current. It certainly arrived in the nick of time.”

“Our canoe?...” murmured the engineer.

Pencroff was right. It really was the canoe, whose mooring had doubtless broken and which had returned all alone from the sources of the Mercy. It was thus important to seize it before it was dragged beyond the mouth by the rapid current of the river. That is what Neb and Pencroff skillfully did by means of a long pole.

The canoe was brought to the shore. The engineer, being the first to embark, seized the mooring and assured himself, by fingering it, that the mooring had really worn away by rubbing against the rocks.

“That is what can be called a circumstance...,” the reporter said to him in a low voice.

“Strange!” replied Cyrus Smith.

Strange or not, it was fortunate. Herbert, the reporter, Neb and Pencroff embarked in their turn. There was no doubt that the mooring had worn away, but the most astonishing thing about the affair truly was that the canoe had arrived just at the moment when the colonists could seize it in passing, because a quarter of an hour later it would have been lost at sea.

If they had lived in the time of genies, this incident would have given them the right to think that the island was haunted by a supernatural being who placed his power at the service of the castaways.

A few strokes of the oar brought the colonists to the mouth of the Mercy. The canoe was towed to the beach at the Chimneys and everyone went toward the ladder of Granite House.

But at this moment Top barked in anger and Neb, who was looking for the first rung, let out a cry...

The ladder was no longer there.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

The Mysterious Island: The Abandoned

Chapter VI

Pencroff’s calls—A night at the Chimneys—Herbert’s arrow—Cyrus Smith’s plan—An unexpected solution—What happened in Granite House—How a new servant enters the service of the colonists.

CYRUS SMITH stopped without saying a word. His companions searched in the dark, against the wall in the event that the wind had displaced the ladder, and on the ground in case it had become detached... but the ladder had absolutely disappeared. As to seeing whether a gust of wind had raised it up to the first landing at the center point of the wall, it was impossible on this dark night.

“If it is a joke,” cried Pencroff, “it is wicked. To arrive at your home and not find the stairway to your room, that is nothing to laugh at for tired men.”

Neb was also absorbed in exclamations!

“This was not done by the wind!” said Herbert.

“I begin to think that strange things happen on Lincoln Island,” said Pencroff.

“Strange?” replied Gideon Spilett, “but no, Pencroff, nothing is more natural. Someone has come during our absence, taken possession of our dwelling and drawn up the ladder.”

“Someone!” cried the sailor, “but who?...”

“Perhaps the hunter with the lead bullet,” replied the reporter. “What other explanation is there for our misadventure?”

“Well, if there is someone up there,” replied Pencroff swearing, because he became impatient, “I’ll call to him and he’ll have to answer.”

And with a thunderous voice the sailor let out a prolonged “Ahoy” whose echoes reverberated powerfully.

The colonists listened and thought that they heard from the height of Granite House a sort of mocking laughter whose nature they did not recognize. But no voice replied to Pencroff’s voice. Uselessly he began to call again.

This truly was something to perplex the most indifferent of men in the world and the colonists were not among that kind. In the situation that the colonists found themselves, every incident was serious and certainly, during the seven months that they had lived on the island nothing had presented itself with such a surprising character.

Forgetting their fatigue and overcome by this strange event, they remained at the foot of Granite House not knowing what to think, not knowing what to do, questioning without being able to reply, and multiplying hypotheses one more implausible than the other. Neb lamented and was very disappointed at not being able to get into his kitchen especially since the provisions were used up on the trip and they had no means of getting more at the moment.

“My friends,” Cyrus Smith then said, “there is nothing for us to do but wait for daybreak when we will act as circumstances dictate. But while waiting, let us go to the Chimneys. There we will have shelter and if we cannot eat then at least we can sleep.”

“But who is this cool customer who played this trick on us?” Pencroff asked still one more time, unable to leave.

Whoever the “cool customer” was, the only thing to do, as the engineer said, was to go to the Chimneys and there await the return of day. Nevertheless an order was given to Top to remain under the windows of Granite House and when Top received an order, Top executed it without comment. The worthy dog remained at the foot of the wall while his master and his companions found refuge among the rocks.

An order was given to Top to remain under the windows.

To say that the colonists, in spite of their weariness, slept well on the sand of the Chimneys would alter the truth. Not only were they very anxious about this new incident be it the result of chance whose natural causes would be apparent during the day or, on the contrary, be it the work of a human being, but in addition they had very bad sleeping arrangements. Whatever it was, one or the other, their dwelling was occupied at the moment and they could not enter it.

Now Granite House was more than their dwelling. It was their storehouse. It had all the material of the colony, arms, instruments, tools, munitions, food reserves, etc. If all this was plundered, the colonists would have to begin again to make arms and tools. This was a serious thing. Thus, yielding to anxiety, one or the other went out for a moment to see if Top was guarding well. Cyrus Smith alone waited with his usual patience, exasperated at this absolutely inexplicable event, and indignant at himself for thinking that around him, above him perhaps, there was a power to which he could not give a name. Gideon Spilett fully shared his opinion in this regard and both repeatedly spoke in whispers of these inexplicable circumstances which were beyond their insight and their experience. There surely was a mystery on this island, but how could they discover it? Herbert did not know what to imagine and wanted to question Cyrus Smith. As to Neb, he dismissed the matter by telling himself that all this was not his concern, that it was his master’s business, and if it were not for his respect for his companions, the worthy negro would have slept that night just as well as if he were lying in his bed in Granite House.

Lastly, more than the others, Pencroff was infuriated and he was, honestly, very angry.

“It is a practical joke,” he said, “it is a joke that someone is playing on us. Well, I do not like practical jokes and woe be unto the joker if I lay my hands on him.”

At the first light of day in the east, the well armed colonists went to the shore at the edge of the reef. Granite House, in direct line with the rising sun, would not be long in lighting up under the dawn’s light and, in fact, before five o’clock, the windows, whose shutters were closed, appeared through the curtain of the foliage.

From this shore all was in order, but a cry escaped from the colonists when they saw the wide open door which they had closed before their departure.

Someone was in Granite House. There was no longer any doubt of that.

The upper ladder, ordinarily attached to the landing at the door, was in its place, but the lower ladder had been drawn up to the landing. It was more than evident that the intruders had wanted to be protected from any surprise.

As to discovering who and how many there were, this was still impossible because none of them had shown themselves.

Pencroff shouted again.

No reply.

“The rascals!” cried the sailor. “There they sleep quietly as if they were in their own home. Ahoy! Pirates, bandits, privateers, sons of John Bull!”

When Pencroff, in his capacity as an American, had called someone “son of John Bull,” he had risen to the final limit of insult.

It was now full daylight and the facade of Granite House was illuminated by the sun’s rays. But the inside was as quiet and calm as the outside.

The colonists asked themselves if Granite House was or was not occupied but the position of the ladder showed that this was so, and it was also certain that the occupants, whoever they were, had not been able to flee. But how could they get to them?

Herbert then had the idea of attaching a cord to an arrow and of shooting this arrow so that it would pass between the first rungs of the ladder which was hanging from the landing outside the door. By means of the cord they could then unravel the ladder to the ground and re-establish communication between the ground and Granite House.

There was evidently nothing else to do and with a little skill it might succeed. Very fortunately, bows and arrows had been placed in a corridor of the Chimneys where they also found a few hundred feet of a light hibiscus cord. Pencroff unraveled this cord which he attached to a feathered arrow. Then Herbert, after having placed the arrow on his bow, took careful aim at the hanging end of the ladder.

Cyrus Smith, Gideon Spilett, Pencroff and Neb remained in the background in order to observe what happened at the windows of Granite House. The reporter, his carbine at his shoulder, took aim at the door.

The bow was released, the arrow hissed through the air reaching the cord and passing between the last two rungs.

The operation had succeeded.

Herbert immediately seized the end of the cord; but as soon as he was about to pull the ladder to the ground, a hand reached out between the wall and the door, seized it and pulled it back into Granite House.

“Triple rascals!” cried the sailor, “if a gunshot will make you happy, you will not have long to wait.”

“But who was it?” asked Neb.

“Who? You did not recognize?...”

“No.”

“But it was an ape, a macaco, a sapajou, a guenon, an orang, a baboon, a gorilla, a saki! Our dwelling has been invaded by apes who climbed up the ladder during our absence.”

And at this moment, as if to prove the sailor right, three or four quadrumanes showed themselves at the windows, whose shutters they had pushed aside, and greeted the true owners of the place with a thousand contortions and grimaces.

“I know full well that this is only a joke!” cried the sailor, “but one of the jokers will pay for the others!”

The sailor, gun to his shoulder, took a quick aim at one of the apes and fired. All disappeared, except one of them who, mortally wounded, fell to the ground.

The ape, mortally wounded...

This ape, of a large size, appeared to be of the first order of quadrumanes, there was no mistake about that. Whether it was a chimpanzee, an orang, a gorilla or a gibbon, it ranked among those anthropomorphs, so named because of their resemblance to the human race. However, Herbert declared that it was an orangutan and we know that the lad was well versed in zoology.

“A magnificent beast!” cried Neb.

“Magnificent, as you wish!” replied Pencroff, “but I still do not see how we will be able to enter our home.”

“Herbert was a good archer,” said the reporter, “and his bow is here. He’ll begin again...”

“Fine! These apes are mischievous,” cried Pencroff. “They will not show themselves again at the windows and we will not be able to kill them, and when I think of the damage they can do to the rooms and to the storeroom...”

“Be patient,” replied Cyrus Smith. “These animals cannot hold us in check for too long!”

“I will be sure of that when they are buried,” replied the sailor. “And do you know, Mister Smith, how many dozens of these jokers there are up there?”

It would be difficult to reply to Pencroff. As for the lad trying again, it was not easy because the lower end of the ladder had been pulled inside the door and when they pulled again on the cord, the cord broke and the ladder did not come down.

It was truly embarrassing. Pencroff raged. The situation had a certain comic side to it that he did not find funny. It was evident that the colonists would end by regaining their dwelling and chasing out the intruders but when and how? That they could not say.

Two hours passed during which the apes avoided showing themselves; but they were still there, and three or four times a nose or a paw passed by the door or the windows which was greeted with a gunshot.

“Let us hide,” the engineer then said. “Perhaps the apes will think that we have left and they will expose themselves again. But Spilett and Herbert can lie in wait behind the rocks and fire on all that will appear.”

The engineer’s orders were obeyed and while the reporter and the lad, the two best archers of the colony, posted themselves at easy range but out of sight of the apes, Neb, Pencroff and Cyrus Smith went to the plateau so as to reach the forest and kill some game because mealtime had come and no provisions remained.

After a half-hour the hunters returned with a few rock pigeons which they roasted for better or for worse. Not an ape had reappeared.

Gideon Spilett and Herbert went to take their part of the meal while Top watched under the windows. Then, after having eaten, they returned to their post.

Two hours later the situation still had in no way changed. The quadrumanes no longer gave any sign of existence and it seemed that they had disappeared; but what appeared more probable was that frightened by the death of one of their fellows, terrified by the detonations from the guns, they remained quiet on the floor of the rooms of Granite House or even in the storeroom. And when they thought of the riches enclosed in this storeroom, the patience advised by the engineer ended by degenerating into a violent irritation and frankly there was reason for it.

“Decidedly, this is very stupid,” the reporter said finally, “and there really is no way to end this!”

“We must send these vagabonds packing!” cried Pencroff. “We will get back in the end even if it takes twenty days, even if we have to fight them hand to hand, but is there no way to get to them?”

“Yes,” replied the engineer, who got a bright idea.

“One idea?” said Pencroff. “Well that’s good, since there are no others. And what is it?”

“Let us try to redescend into Granite House by the old passageway of the lake,” replied the engineer.

“Ah! A thousand devils!” cried the sailor. “Why didn’t I think of it?”

It was in fact the only means of penetrating into Granite House in order to combat the band and of expelling it. The orifice of the overflow was, it is true, closed by a wall of cemented rocks which it would be necessary to sacrifice but they would be free to make it again. Fortunately, Cyrus Smith still had not completed his project of hiding this orifice by submerging it under the waters of the lake because he had not had the time to do it. It was already past noon when the colonists, well armed and provided with ../pics and picaxes, left the Chimneys. They passed under the windows of Granite House after having ordered Top to remain at his post. They intended to ascend the left bank of the Mercy in order to reach Grand View Plateau.

But they had not gone fifty paces in this direction when they heard the dog barking furiously. It was a desperate call.

They stopped.

“Run!” said Pencroff.

And everyone descended the bank as fast as he could. Rounding the bend they saw that the situation had changed.

In fact the apes, terrorized by some unknown cause, were trying to get out. Two or three ran and jumped from one window to the other with the agility of clowns. They did not even think of replacing the ladder which would have facilitated their descent and in their fright perhaps they had forgotten this means of getting out. Soon five or six were in a position to be fired upon and the colonists, easily seeing them, fired. Some, wounded or dead, fell back into the rooms uttering sharp cries. Others fell outside, killed by their fall, and in a few moments they could suppose that there no longer were any living quadrumanes in Granite House.

“Hurrah!” cried Pencroff. “Hurrah! Hurrah!”

“So many hurrahs!” said Gideon Spilett.

“Why not? They are dead,” replied the sailor.

“Agreed, but this does not give us the means of returning to our home.”

“Let us go to the overflow passage,” replied Pencroff.

“Without doubt,” said the engineer. “However, it would be preferable...”

At this moment, as if in response to Cyrus Smith’s comment, they saw the ladder glide onto the landing outside the door. Then it unraveled and fell to the ground.

“Ah! A thousand pipes! That’s considerate!” cried the sailor, looking at Cyrus Smith.

“Very considerate!” murmured the engineer, stepping on the first rung of the ladder.

“Take care, Mister Cyrus!” cried Pencroff, “there may still be several of these apes...”

“We will soon know,” replied the engineer, without stopping.

All his companions followed him and in a minute they arrived at the landing of the door.

They looked everywhere. No one was in the rooms or in the storeroom which had been respected by the band of quadrumanes.

“So, and the ladder?” cried the sailor. “Who then was the gentleman who returned it?”

But at this moment a cry was heard and a large ape, who had taken refuge in the passageway, threw himself into the hall, pursued by Neb.

“Ah! The bandit!” cried Pencroff.

And with axe in hand he was about to crack the animal’s skull when Cyrus Smith stopped him and said to him:

“Spare him, Pencroff.”

“Show mercy to this blackamoor?”

“Yes! It was he who threw us the ladder.”

And the engineer said this in so strange a voice that it was difficult to know if he spoke seriously or not.

Nevertheless they threw themselves on the ape who, after having defended himself valiantly, was thrown to the ground and tied.

The ape was thrown to the ground and tied.

“Whew!” cried Pencroff. “And now what will we make of him?”

“A servant!” replied Herbert.

And in speaking so the lad really was not joking because he knew that use could be made of this intelligent race of quadrumanes.

The colonists then approached the ape and looked at him. He belonged to that species of anthropomorphs whose facial angle in not significantly less than that of the Australians and of the Hottentots. It was an orang who, as such, had neither the ferocity of the baboon, nor the thoughtlessness of the macaco, nor the filthy ways of the saguin, nor the impatience of the barbary ape nor the bad instincts of the cynocephalus. It was of that family of anthropomorphs having a quasi-human intelligence. Employed in homes, they can serve at tables, clean rooms, care for clothes, polish shoes, skillfully handle a knife, a spoon and a fork and even drink wine... all this as well as the best servant on two feet and no feathers. It is said that Buffon possessed one of these apes who served him for a long time as a faithful and zealous servant.

The one that they had tied up in the large hall of Granite House was a large devil, six feet tall, with an admirably proportioned body, a large chest, a head of average size, a facial angle of sixty five degrees, a rounded cranium, a prominent nose, a skin covered with a sleek, gentle and glossy hair—in short an accomplished type of anthropomorph. His eyes, a little smaller than human eyes, shown with a vivacious intelligence, his white teeth glistened under his moustache and he had a small beard glazed with a hazel color.

“A fine lad!” said Pencroff. “If only we knew his language, we could speak to him.”

“Are you serious, master?” said Neb. “Will we take him on as a servant?”

“Yes, Neb,” replied the engineer, smiling. “But do not be jealous!”

“And I hope that he will make an excellent servant,” added Herbert. “He seems to be young, his education will be easy and we will not be obliged to use force to subjugate him, nor to pull his teeth as is done in similar circumstances. He will become attached to his masters if we are good to him.”

“And that we will be,” replied Pencroff, who had completely forgotten his grudge against “the jokers.”

Then, approaching the orang:

“Well, my boy,” he asked him. “How goes it?”

The orang replied with a small growl that did not denote any bad temper.

“Do we wish then to become a part of the colony?” asked the sailor, “to enter the service of Mister Cyrus Smith?”

The ape made another approving growl.

“And we will be content with our nourishment for our wages?”

A third affirmative growl.

“His conversation is a little monotonous,” said Gideon Spilett.

“Good!” replied Pencroff, “the best servants are those who speak the least. So then, no wages!—Do you understand my boy? To begin with, we will give you no wages but later on we will double it if we are satisfied with you!”

Thus the colony added a new member who could be of service. As to his name, the sailor asked that he be called Jupiter, or Jup for short, in memory of another ape he had known.

And so, without further ceremony, Master Jup was installed at Granite House.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Abandoned

Chapter VII

Projects to execute—A bridge over the Mercy—Making an island out of Grand View Plateau—The draw-bridge—The corn harvest—The creek—The culverts—The poultry yard—The pigeon house—The two onagers—The harnessed cart—Excursion to Port Balloon.

THE colonists of Lincoln Island had thus regained their dwelling without having been obliged to use the old passageway, which saved them from masonry work. It was truly fortunate that at the moment when whey were getting ready to do this, the band of apes had been terrified, at least subjected to something inexplicable, which had driven them from Granite House. Did these animals have some warning of a serious assault coming to them from another direction? This was just about the only way to explain their retreat.

During the final hours of that day, the bodies of the apes were carried to the woods where they were buried; then the colonists repaired the disorder caused by the intruders—disorder but not damage—because if they had upset the furniture in the rooms, at least they had broken nothing. Neb rekindled his stoves and the reserves in the pantry furnished a substantial meal to which all did justice.

Jup was not forgotten and he ate with appetite the pine almonds and the rhizome roots which were abundantly provided for him. Pencroff had untied his arms but he judged it best to leave the fetters on his legs until the time when they could count on his submissiveness.

Pencroff had untied his arms.

Then, before going to bed, Cyrus Smith and his companions, seated around the table, discussed several projects whose execution was urgent.

The most important and the most pressing was the establishment of a bridge over the Mercy in order to put the southern part of the island in communication with Granite House, then the establishment of a corral destined to house the sheep or other wool animals that they agreed to capture.

As can be seen, these two projects tended to solve the question of clothing, which was then the most serious. In fact, the bridge would make it easy to transport the envelope of the balloon which would give linen, and the corral would furnish a collection of wool which would give winter clothing.

As to the corral, it was Cyrus Smith’s intention to establish it at the very source of Red Creek, where the ruminants would find fresh and abundant pasture for their nourishment. Already the route between Grand View Plateau and the sources had been partly blazed, and with a cart better built than the first one, the haul would be easier especially if they managed to capture some beast of burden.

But if there was no inconvenience due to the fact that the corral might be far from Granite House, such was not the case with the poultry yard, which Neb called to the attention of the colonists. In fact, it was necessary that the birds be within the reach of the kitchen chef and no location seemed more favorable than that portion of the banks of the lake that bordered on the old overflow. The waterfowl would know how to prosper there as well as the others. The tinamou couple, taken during the last excursion, would serve as the first attempt at domestication.

The next day—the 3rd of November—the new works were begun with the construction of the bridge and all hands were required for this important task. Saws, axes, chisels and hammers were placed on the colonists’ shoulders who, transformed into carpenters, descended to the shore.

There Pencroff had a thought.

“What if, during our absence, Master Jup takes a fancy to draw up this ladder that he gallantly threw down yesterday?”

“Let us tie it down at its lower end,” replied Cyrus Smith.

This was done by means of two picks well buried in the sand. Then the colonists ascended the left bank of the Mercy and soon arrived at the bend formed by the river.

There they stopped in order to see if the bridge could be thrown at this point. The spot seemed suitable.

In fact from this point to Port Balloon, discovered the previous day on the southern shore, it was only three and a half miles. From bridge to port it would be easy to blaze a path fit for a cart, which would make for easy communication between Granite House and the south of the island.

Cyrus Smith then acquainted his companions with a project both very simple to execute and very advantageous, which he had thought about for some time. It was to completely isolate Grand View Plateau in order to shelter it from any attack by quadrupeds or by quadrumanes. By this means Granite House, the Chimneys, the poultry yard and all the upper part of the plateau destined to be made into an island, would be protected from the depredations of animals.

Nothing was easier to execute than this project and here is how the engineer counted on doing it.

The plateau already found itself defended on three sides by watercourses, be they artificial or natural.

In the northwest, by the shore of Lake Grant from the corner located at the opening of the old overflow to the cut made on the east shore for the escape of the waters;

In the north, from this cut to the sea, by the new watercourse which had hollowed itself out on the plateau and on the beach upstream and downstream from the waterfall, and in fact it was sufficient to excavate the bed of this creek to render it impractical to animals;

On the eastern shore by the sea itself, from the mouth of the aforesaid creek to the mouth of the Mercy;

Finally on the south, from this mouth to the bend in the Mercy where they would establish the bridge.

There still remained the western part of the plateau, between the bend in the river and the southern corner of the lake, a distance less than one mile, which was open to all who came. But nothing was easier than to cut a wide and deep trench, which would be filled by the waters of the lake and whose overflow would be thrown into the Mercy by a second waterfall. The level of the lake would doubtless be lowered a little as a result of this new discharge but Cyrus Smith knew that the flow of Red Creek was sufficient to allow for the execution of his project.

“In this way,” added the engineer, “Grand View Plateau will be a real island, being surrounded by water on all sides and it will communicate with the rest of our domain only by the bridge which we are going to throw across the Mercy, the two smaller bridges already established upstream and downstream from the waterfall, and finally two other bridges yet to be constructed, one over the trench that I propose to excavate and the other on the left bank of the Mercy. Now if these bridges can be raised at will, Grand View Plateau will be protected against any surprise.”

In order to help his companions to better understand his plan, Cyrus Smith made a map of the plateau and his project was immediately grasped in its entirety. It was approved unanimously and Pencroff, brandishing his carpenter’s axe, cried:

“First to the bridge!”

It was the most urgent work. The trees were chosen, cut down, branches removed, and cut into small beams, into thick planks and into boards. This bridge, fixed on the side that was supported by the right bank of the Mercy, would be movable on the left bank so that it could be raised by means of counterweights as is done with certain floodgates.

It should be understood that this was a large undertaking, and if it was done efficiently it still required a lot of time because the Mercy was about eighty feet wide. It would be necessary to sink the piles into the riverbed in order to support the platform of the bridge and to make a pile driver to pound the tops of the piles which would enable the two arches of the bridge to support heavy loads.

This was a large undertaking.

Very fortunately they lacked neither the tools to work the wood, nor the ironwork to put it together, nor the knowledge of what was to be done, nor finally the zeal of those who during these seven months had necessarily acquired the manual dexterity. Gideon Spilett was not the most awkward one and kept up with the sailor himself, who never would have expected this from “a mere journalist.”

The construction of the bridge over the Mercy lasted three weeks, which were fully occupied. They ate at the worksite itself, the weather was magnificent then, and they only returned to Granite House for supper.

During this period Master Jup became accustomed and familiar with his new masters whom he looked upon with extreme curiosity. As a precaution, Pencroff still did not allow him complete freedom of movement, wanting to wait, rightly so, until the limits of the plateau would be restricted by these proposed projects. Top and Jup got on and played together but Jup was always serious.

The bridge was finished on the 20th of November. Its movable portion, in equilibrium with the counterweights, moved easily, and it required little effort to raise it. Between the hinge and the support on which it would rest when closed, there was a twenty foot interval which would be sufficient to prevent any animals from crossing.

It was then a question of going for the envelope of the balloon, which the colonists were anxious to put in complete security; but in order to transport it, it would be necessary to get a cart over to Port Balloon and in consequence to blaze a route across the thick forest of the Far West. That would require time. Neb and Pencroff first pushed through to the port and since they found that the “linen supply” would not suffer in the grotto where it had been stored, it was decided that the works relative to Grand View Plateau would be pushed without pausing.

“That,” noted Pencroff, “will permit us to establish our poultry yard under the best conditions since we will fear neither a visit from the foxes nor the aggression of other noxious animals.”

“Without mentioning,” added Neb, “that we will be able to clear the plateau so as to transplant wild plants there...”

“And to prepare our second cornfield,” cried the sailor triumphantly.

In fact the first cornfield, sowed with a single grain, had prospered admirably thanks to Pencroff’s care. It had produced the ten ears predicted by the engineer and each ear carried eighty grains. In six months the colony had obtained eight hundred grains, since two harvests each year were permitted.

These eight hundred grains, less fifty which were prudently put aside, would be sowed in a new field with no less care than that bestowed on the single grain.

The field was prepared and then surrounded by a high, sharp and strong wooden fence that quadrupeds would find very difficult to cross. As to the birds, some noisy whirligigs and frightful mannequins, dreamed up by Pencroff’s fantastic imagination, were sufficient to scatter them. The seven hundred fifty grains were then put in small very regular furrows and nature would do the rest.

Some frightful mannequins were sufficient to scatter them.

On the 21st of November, Cyrus Smith began to design the trench that would enclose the plateau from the west, from the southern corner of Lake Grant to the bend in the Mercy. This ground had two feet of topsoil and, under that, granite. He made some more nitroglycerin and the nitroglycerin produced its usual effect. In less than fifteen days a trench, a dozen feet wide and six feet deep, was excavated into the hard ground of the plateau. A new drain was, by the same means, cut into the rocky shore of the lake. The water fell into this new bed and formed a small watercourse to which they gave the name “Glycerin Creek” which became an affluent of the Mercy. As predicted by the engineer, the level of the lake was lowered but by an insignificant amount. Finally, to complete the enclosure, the bed of the brook on the beach was considerably enlarged, and they held the sand in place by means of a double fence.

In the first half of December these activities were finished and Grand View Plateau, that is to say a sort of irregular pentagon having a perimeter of about four miles, was surrounded by water and absolutely protected against all aggression.

It was very hot during this month of December. However, the colonists did not want to delay the execution of these projects any longer since it was urgent to set up a poultry yard.

Needless to say, since the enclosure of the plateau, Master Jup had been given his liberty. He did not leave his masters and showed no wish to escape. He was a gentle animal, very vigorous however, and with an extraordinary agility. Ah! When he climbed the ladder to Granite House, he had no rival. They had already used him for several tasks: He dragged loads of wood and carted away stones that had been extracted from the bed of Glycerin Creek.

“He is not yet a mason, but he is already an ape!” said Herbert jokingly, making allusion to the nickname of “ape” that masons give to their apprentices. And if ever the name was justified, this was it.

The poultry yard occupied an area of two hundred square yards on the southeast bank of the lake. They surrounded it with a wooden fence and they built different shelters for the animals that would populate it. These were shacks made of branches and divided into compartments, which would not be long in receiving their hosts.

The first were the tinamou couple, who soon had numerous young. For companions they had a half dozen ducks who had frequented the borders of the lake. Some of them belonged to this Chinese species whose wings open like a fan and who rival the gilded pheasants with the brilliance and brightness of their plumage. Several days later, Herbert got hold of a gallinaceous couple with a rounded tail and a crest of long feathers, and magnificent “alectorides,” who were not long in becoming tame. As to the pelicans, the kingfishers and the waterfowl, they came by themselves to the waterside of the poultry yard, and all of this miniature world, after several disputes, cooing, cheeping and clucking, ended by coming to terms and increasing in proportions which were reassuring for the alimentary future of the colony.

Cyrus Smith, wanting to complete his plan, established a pigeon house in a corner of the poultry yard. A dozen of those pigeons that frequented the high rocks of the plateau were lodged there. These birds became easily accustomed to come to their new dwelling each evening and showed more of a tendency to become domesticated than their congeners, the wood pigeons who besides, would only reproduce in the wild state.

Finally the time came for them to use the envelope of the balloon to make linen. As to keeping it in this form and risk themselves in a hot air balloon in order to leave the island, above an ocean without limits so to say, that was not admissible for people who were destitute of everything. Cyrus Smith, being practical, could not dream of it.

They took steps then to bring the envelope to Granite House and to make their heavy cart more manageable and lighter. But if a vehicle was not lacking, the motor had still to be found. Did there exist on the island some native ruminant species that could replace the horse, donkey, ox or cow? That was the question.

“The truth is,” said Pencroff, “that a beast of burden would be very useful to us while waiting for Mister Smith to construct a steam cart or even a locomotive, because certainly one day we will have a railroad from Granite House to Port Balloon with a branch line to Mount Franklin.”

And the honest sailor, in speaking this way, believed what he said. Oh! Imagination, when faith is blended with it!

But, without exaggeration, a simple harnessable quadruped would have done well for Pencroff’s purpose, but Providence favored him and did not keep him waiting.

One day, the 23rd of December, they heard Neb shouting and Top barking in rivalry at the same time. The colonists, occupied at the Chimneys, ran immediately fearing some violent incident.

What did they see? Two large fine animals who had imprudently ventured onto the plateau while the bridges were down. One would have said they were two horses at least two donkeys, male and female, with a fine form, dove colored fur, white legs and tail, with black stripes on the head, neck and trunk. They advance calmly without showing any uneasiness and looked with a sharp eye on these men whom they still did not recognize as their masters.

“They are onagers,” cried Herbert, “quadrupeds which are midway between the zebra and the quagga.”

“Why not donkeys?” asked Neb.

“Because they do not have long ears and their forms are more gracious.”

“Donkeys or horses,” laughed Pencroff, “they are ‘motors’, as Mister Smith would say and as such worth capturing.”

The sailor, without frightening the two animals, glided among the grass to the bridge over Glycerin Creek, swung it up, and the onagers were prisoners.

Now should they seize them with violence and submit them to a forced domestication? No. It was decided that, for several days, they would let them come and go freely on the plateau where there was abundant grass, and immediately the engineer made a stable near the poultry yard where the onagers could find good litter and a refuge for the night.

The magnificent couple were allowed complete freedom of movement and the colonists even avoided frightening them by coming near them. Several times however, the onagers seemed to feel the need to leave the plateau, which was too small for them, accustomed as they were to the large areas of the deep forests. They then saw them follow the belt of water that held them back, braying sharply, galloping among the grass and, becoming calm, they looked for hours at the woods that were denied to them forever.

Harnesses and straps were made of vegetable fiber, and some days after the capture of the onagers not only was the cart ready to be harnessed, but a straight road or rather a cut had been made across the forest of the Far West from the bend in the Mercy to Port Balloon. They could take the cart there and it was toward the end of December that they tried the onagers for the first time.

Pencroff had already coaxed the animals so that they came to eat from his hand and they could approach them without difficulty, but once harnessed, they reared and they had a hard time bridling them. However they were not long in yielding to this new service. The onager, who is less rebellious than the zebra, is frequently harnessed in the mountainous regions of South Africa and even in some relatively cold zones of Europe.

On this day the entire colony got into the cart except for Pencroff who marched at the head of the animals. They took the road to Port Balloon. It was hardly surprising that they were jolted all along the way, that goes without saying; but the vehicle arrived without any accident and, on the same day, they loaded the envelope and the various riggings of the balloon.

At eight o’clock in the evening the cart, after having passed back over the Mercy bridge, redescended the left bank of the river and halted on the beach. The onagers were unharnessed and then brought back to their stable, and before going to sleep, Pencroff heaved a sigh of satisfaction which echoed throughout Granite House.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Abandoned

Chapter VIII

Linen—Hunting for sealskin—Making pyroxyle—Various plantings—Fishing—Tortoise eggs—Progress of Master Jup—The corral—Hunting wild sheep—New vegetable and animal riches—Remembrance of their native land.

THE first week in January was devoted to making the linen needed by the colony. The needles found in the case were used by vigorous if not sturdy fingers and the sewing was done well.

There was no lack of thread thanks to Cyrus Smith’s idea of using the thread that had already served to sew up the balloon. These long threads were unraveled by Gideon Spilett and Herbert with admirable patience. Pencroff had to give up this work which irritated him beyond measure; but when it came to sewing, he had no equal. No one can be ignorant of the fact that sailors have a remarkable aptitude for the sewing profession.

The cloth that composed the envelope of the balloon was then degreased by means of soda and potassium obtained from the incineration of plants so that the unvarnished cotton regained its suppleness and its natural elasticity; then subjected to the decoloration action of the atmosphere, it acquired a perfect whiteness.

Several dozen shirts and socks—the latter unknitted of course but made of sewn cloth—were made. What pleasure it was for the colonists to dress again in white linen—very rough linen doubtless but they were not troubled by so small a matter—and to sleep between sheets which made the bunks of Granite House into quite substantial beds.

The colonists dressed again in white linen.

It was also about this time that they made sealskin shoes, which opportunely replaced the shoes and the boots brought from America. These new shoes were large and wide and never pinched their feet.

The heat was still with them at the beginning of the year of 1866 but that did not stop the hunting in the woods. Agoutis, peccaries, capybaras, kangaroos, hairy and feathery game truly abounded and Gideon Spilett and Herbert were good archers who did not waste a shot.

Cyrus Smith recommended that they economize on munitions and he took measures to replenish the powder and the lead shot that had been found in the case and which he wished to save for the future. Who could know what hazards they would face one day in the event that they left their domain? They must prepare for future uncertainties by economizing their munitions and substitute for them other easily renewable substances.

As to replacing the lead of which Cyrus Smith had found no trace on the island, he used, without detriment, small iron shot which was easy to make. These grains were not as heavy as the lead grains so they made them larger. Each charge contained less but the skill of the hunters made up for the deficiency. As to the powder, Cyrus Smith would have been able to make it since he had available saltpeter, sulphur and coal but this preparation required extreme care and without special tools it was difficult to produce in good quality.

Cyrus Smith preferred to make pyroxyle, that is to say guncotton, a substance in which cotton in not necessary except for the cellulose. Now cellulose is nothing more than the elementary tissue of plants and it is found in a nearly perfect state of purity not only in cotton but in the fibrous textiles of hemp and flax, in paper, old linen, elder pith, etc. Now elder trees abounded on the island near the mouth of Red Creek. The colonists had already used the berries of these shrubbery trees of the honeysuckle family as a coffee.

It was sufficient to collect the elder pith, that is to say the cellulose. The only other substance necessary for making pyroxyle was fuming nitric acid. Now, since Cyrus Smith had sulphuric acid available, he had already produced nitric acid easily by attacking saltpeter which was furnished by nature.

He therefore resolved to make and use pyroxyle although he was aware of its rather serious disadvantages, that is to say a large variation in effect, an excessive inflammability since it ignites at 170° instead of 240° and finally a too rapid detonation which could damage the guns. On the other hand, the advantages of pyroxyle are these, that it is not altered by humidity, that it does not foul up the gun and that its explosive force is quadruple that of ordinary powder.

To make pyroxyle, it suffices to submerge the cellulose into fuming nitric acid for a quarter of an hour, then to wash it with water and dry it over a large fire. One can see that nothing is simpler.

Cyrus Smith only had the ordinary nitric acid and not the fuming nitric acid or the monohydrate, that is to say the acid which emits white vapors on contact with humid air; but the engineer could substitute for the latter and obtain the same result by mixing ordinary nitric acid with sulphuric acid in the ratio of three to five by volume. This he did. The hunters soon had a well made substance which gave excellent results when used with discretion.

About this time the colonists cleared three acres[1] of Grand View Plateau and the remainder was saved in the prairie state for the use of the onagers. Several excursions were made into the Jacamar and Far West forests and they brought back a true harvest of wild vegetables, spinach, cress, horse radish and turnips which would soon be cultivated. This would improve their diet. They also carried a lot of wood and coal. Each excursion had, at the same time, improved the roadway which settled down little by little under the wheels of the cart.

The warren continued to furnish its quota of rabbits for the Granite House pantry. Since it was located just beyond Glycerin Creek, its hosts could not penetrate the guarded plateau nor ravage the newly made plantation. As to the oyster bed, located among the rocks of the beach and whose products were frequently renewed, it yielded excellent mollusks daily. Fishing either in the waters of the lake or in the Mercy was worthwhile because Pencroff had made some lines armed with iron hooks which frequently caught fine trout and certain extremely savoury fish whose silvery sides were covered with small yellow spots. In this way Master Neb, in charge of the culinary department, was able to agreeably vary the menu at each meal. Bread alone was still missing from the colonists’ table and, as was said, it was a privation which was truly felt.

About this time they also hunted the tortoises which frequented the beaches of Cape Mandible. In this region the shore bristled with small mounds covering perfectly spherical eggs with a hard white shell whose albumin does not coagulate like bird eggs. It was the sun that made them hatch. There naturally was a considerable number since each tortoise can lay up to two hundred fifty annually.

“A real egg field,” said Gideon Spilett, “and we have only to collect them.”

But they were not content with these products. They also had a hunt for the producers, a hunt which allowed them to carry back to Granite House a dozen of these chelonians, truly very valuable from the alimentary point of view. Tortoise soup, enhanced with aromatic herbs and cruciferae, often drew merited praise for its preparer, Master Neb.

A happy circumstance should be cited here, which allowed them to make additional provisions for the winter. Schools of salmon ventured into the Mercy and ascended the watercourse for several miles. This was the season in which the females, seeking suitable places for spawning, precede the males and make a lot of noise swimming through the sweet water. A thousand of these fish, which measured up to two and a half feet in length, crowded the river and they caught a large quantity by establishing several dams. Several hundred were salted and put in reserve for the time when winter, freezing the watercourse, would render all fishing impractical.

It was at this time that the very intelligent Jup was promoted to the rank of valet. He had been dressed in a jacket, short breeches of white cloth, and an apron with pockets that he liked to shove his hands into. He did not mind that they saw him fumbling. The skillful orang had been well trained by Neb and one would say that the Negro and the ape understood each other when they chatted. Jup had, besides, an actual sympathy for Neb and Neb reciprocated. Unless they had need for his services, be it to haul some wood or to climb to the top of some tree, Jup passed most of his time in the kitchen trying to imitate Neb in everything that he saw him do. Besides, the master showed patience and even an extreme zeal in instructing his pupil and the pupil showed a remarkable intelligence in profiting from the lessons given to him by his master.

Jup passed most of his time in the kitchen.

One can judge the satisfaction that he gave to the hosts of Granite House when one day, without any previous announcement, he came with a table napkin on his arm, ready to serve at the table. Skillful and attentive, he performed perfectly, changing the napkins, carrying the plates, pouring the drinks, all with a seriousness that amused the colonists to the last degree and delighted Pencroff.

“Jup, some soup!”

“Jup, a little agouti!”

“Jup, a napkin!”

“Jup! Worthy Jup! Honest Jup!”

Without becoming upset, Jup responded to everyone and observed everything. He shook his intelligent head when Pencroff, alluding to his joke on the first day, said to him:

“Decidedly Jup, we must double your wages!”

Needless to say, the orang had become completely acclimatized to Granite House and he often accompanied his masters into the forest without ever manifesting any desire to escape. At such times he marched in the most amusing fashion, with a cane that Pencroff had given him, carrying it on his shoulder like a gun. If they had to pluck some fruit from the top of a tree, how quickly he was up there! If the wheel of the cart became stuck in the mud how vigorously Jup got it back on the road with a single shove!

“What a rascal!” Pencroff often cried. “If he was as mischievous as he is good, there would be no holding him back.”

It was toward the end of January that the colonists undertook a large task in the central part of the island. It had been decided that at the foot of Mount Franklin near the sources of Red Creek, they would build a corral designed to hold the ruminants whose presence near Granite House would have been a nuisance, and especially those wild sheep which could furnish the wool that they expected to make into winter clothing.

Every morning the colony, sometimes in its entirety, more often represented only by Cyrus Smith, Herbert and Pencroff, went to the sources of the creek with the aid of the onagers. This was a promenade of not more than five miles under a dome of verdure on this newly traced route which took the name of “Route to the Corral.”

There a large piece of ground had been chosen on the very flank of the southern part of the mountain. It was a prairie, planted with clusters of trees, situated at the very foot of a buttress which enclosed it on one side. A small brook, having its source among the slopes, flowed diagonally across the area and fed into Red Creek. The grass grew well and the few trees allowed the air to circulate freely. It sufficed then to enclose the said prairie with a palisade which would be supported at each corner by a buttress. Being rather high, the most agile animals would not be able to cross it. This enclosure would contain, at any one time, about a hundred horned animals, wild sheep or goats, with young that would be born in time.

The perimeter of the corral was marked off by the engineer and they then proceeded to cut the trees needed to construct the palisade; but, since in making the road it had already been necessary to sacrifice about a hundred trees, they were used as stakes which were firmly planted in the ground.

At the front of the palisade, a rather large entrance was arranged and closed with two swing doors made of very thick planks which could be shut by exterior cross bars.

The construction of the corral required not less than three weeks because in addition to the work on the palisade, Cyrus Smith built large planked sheds under which the ruminants could find shelter. Besides, it had been necessary to make it very sturdy because wild sheep are robust animals and their first violence was to be feared. The stakes, pointed on top and hardened in fire, were made strong by means of regularly placed iron bolts which assured the strength of the entire structure.

The corral finished, a game drive was then undertaken to the foot of Mount Franklin amid the pastures frequented by the ruminants. This operation was made on the 7th of February, a fine summer day and everyone took part in it. The two onagers, well broken in by this time, were mounted by Gideon Spilett and Herbert and rendered a useful service on this occasion.

The maneuver consisted simply of pressing down on the sheep and goats and little by little narrowing the field of battle around them. Cyrus Smith, Pencroff, Neb and Jup posted themselves at various points in the woods, while the two horsemen and Top galloped within a radius of a half a mile around the corral.

The wild sheep were numerous in this portion of the island. These fine animals, large as deer, horns stronger than those of a ram, with gray fleece blending with long hair, resembled argalis.

This hunting day was tiring. What comings and goings, crossing and criss-crossing and commotion! Of the hundred wild sheep surrounded, more than two thirds escaped; but in the end thirty of these ruminants and a dozen wild goats, driven little by little toward the corral whose open door seemed to offer an outlet, threw themselves inside and were imprisoned.

In sum the result was satisfying and the colonists could not complain. For the most part, these wild sheep were females, several of whom would not be long in giving birth. It was certain that the flock would prosper not only to provide wool but also hides in the not too distant future.

That evening the hunters returned to Granite House exhausted. However, the next day they returned, at least to visit the corral. The prisoners had been trying to turn over the palisade but they had not succeeded and they were not long in becoming more tranquil.

During the month of February no important event occurred. The daily tasks were regularly pursued. At the same time as they improved the roads to the corral and to Port Balloon, a third was begun from the enclosure to the western shore. The deep woods which covered Serpentine Peninsula were still an unknown portion of Lincoln Island. Gideon Spilett counted on purging from his domain the wild beasts that took refuge there.

Before the return of the cold season, the most assiduous care was given to the cultivation of the wild plants that had been transplanted from the forest to Grand View Plateau. Herbert hardly ever returned from an excursion without bringing back some useful vegetable. One day it was a specimen of the chicoriaceae species whose seed, under pressure, makes an excellent oil; on another day it was the common sorrel whose antiscorbutic properties are not to be disdained; then some of the precious tubercles which have been cultivated at all times in South America, these potatoes which nowadays are counted as more than two hundred species. The kitchen garden, now in good repair, well watered and well defended against birds, was divided into small plots where lettuce, kidney beans, sorrel, turnips, horse radish and other cruciferous plants grew. The earth of the plateau was very fertile and they could hope that the harvest would be abundant.

Various beverages were no longer lacking and, on the condition that one did not ask for wine, the most difficult people would have no cause to complain. To the Oswego tea furnished by the didymous monarda and the fermented liqueur extracted from the dragon tree roots, Cyrus Smith had added a real beer; he made it with the young shoots of the “abies nigra” which, after having been boiled and fermented, gave a particularly healthy and pleasant beverage which the Anglo-Americans call “spring beer,” that is to say fir tree beer.

About the end of the summer the poultry yard possessed a fine pair of bustards who belonged to the “houbara” species characterized by a sort of apron of feathers, a dozen shovellers, whose upper jaw is extended on each side by a membranous appendage, and some magnificent black crested cocks with a carbuncle and epidermis resembling the cocks of Mozambique, who strutted on the banks of the lake.

Thus everything was successful thanks to the activity of these courageous and intelligent men. Providence had doubtless done much for them; but faithful to principles, they had first helped themselves and heaven came to their aid afterwards.

At the end of a warm summer’s day, when work was finished and a breeze came up from the sea, they loved to sit at the edge of Grand View Plateau under a sort of veranda covered with creeping vines that Neb had erected with his own hands. There they chatted, they instructed one another, they made plans, the sailor’s good humor always entertaining this small world in which perfect harmony never ceased to reign.

They also spoke of their country, of dear and wonderful America. What of the War of Secession? It evidently could not have continued. Richmond had doubtless fallen promptly into the hands of General Grant! The capture of the Confederate capital had to be the last act of this deadly struggle! Now the North had triumphed for a good cause. Ah! How a newspaper would have been welcomed by the exiles of Lincoln Island! For eleven months all communication between them and the rest of humanity had been interrupted and in a little while the 24th of March would mark the anniversary of the day when the balloon had thrown them on this unknown shore! Then they were only castaways, not even knowing if they could wrest a miserable existence from the elements. And now thanks to the knowledge of their chief, thanks to their own intelligence, they were true colonists, provided with arms, tools and instruments, who had known how to transform to their profit the animals, plants and minerals of the island, that is to day the three kingdoms of nature.

Yes! They often spoke of these things and made additional plans for the future!

As to Cyrus Smith, for the most part silent, he listened to his companions more often than he spoke. Now and then he smiled at some of Herbert’s thoughts or at some of Pencroff’s witticisms but, at all times and everywhere he thought about those inexplicable events, about this strange enigma whose secret still escaped him.

1. An acre equals 0.4046 hectares.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Abandoned

Chapter IX

Bad weather—The hydraulic lift—Making glass panes and glass cups—The bread tree—Frequent visits to the corral—Increase in the flock—The reporter’s question—Exact coordinates of Lincoln Island—Pencroff’s proposition.

THE weather changed during the first week of March. There had been a full moon at the beginning of the month and the heat was excessive. One felt that the atmosphere was charged with electricity and a more or less extended period of stormy weather was indeed to be feared.

In fact on the 2nd it thundered with extreme violence. The wind blew from the east and hail directly attacked the Granite House facade, crackling like a volley of grape-shot. They had to hermetically seal the door and the window shutters, otherwise all would have been flooded in the inside of the rooms.

Upon seeing these hailstones fall, some of which were the size of a pigeon’s egg, it occurred to Pencroff that his cornfield was in serious danger.

Soon he ran to his field where the ears were already beginning to raise their little green heads and, with a large cloth he succeeded in protecting his harvest. He was pelted but he did not complain.

Soon Pencroff ran to his cornfield.

This bad weather lasted for eight days during which the thunder did not cease. Between storms, they still heard it rumbling beyond the limits of the horizon; then it returned with new fury. The lightning hit several trees on the island, among others an enormous pine that grew near the lake at the edge of the forest. Two or three times the lightning struck the shore, melting the sand and vitrifying it. On recovering these fulgurites, the engineer was led to believe that it would be possible to make thick and sturdy window panes which would resist the wind, the rain and the hail.

The colonists, not having any pressing work to do outside, profited from the bad weather by working inside Granite House whose arrangements were perfected day by day. The engineer made a potter’s wheel which allowed him to turn out several articles for their clothing and for the kitchen, in particular some buttons which they needed badly. A rack was made to hold the weapons which were maintained with extreme care, and neither the shelves nor the closets left anything to desire. They sawed, they planed, they filed, they turned the potter’s wheel, and during the bad weather they heard only the grinding of the tools or the rumbling of the wheel responding to the roaring of the thunder.

Master Jup had not been forgotten and he occupied his own room near the storeroom, a sort of cabin with a cot filed with good litter which suited him perfectly.

“With worthy Jup, never any recrimination,” Pencroff often repeated, “never any inconvenient response! What a servant, Neb, what a servant.”

“My pupil,” replied Neb, “and soon to be my equal!”

“Your superior,” retorted the sailor laughing, “because you talk and he does not!”

It goes without saying that Jup was now in the swing of things. He beat the clothes, he turned the spit, he swept the rooms, he served at the table, he arranged the wood and—a detail which enchanted Pencroff—he never went to sleep without coming to tuck in the worthy sailor in his bed.

As to the health of the members of the colony, bipeds or bimanes, quadrumanes or quadrupeds, it left nothing to desire. With this life in the open air, on this wholesome soil, under this temperate zone, working with body and mind, they could not believe that illness would ever affect them.

All went well. In fact, Herbert had already grown two inches in a year. His figure was becoming more masculine and he promised to become a man accomplished in body and in morals. Besides, he profited by teaching himself during the spare time left to him after his manual occupations. He read some books found in the case and after the practical lessons which resulted from the very necessity of their situation, he found out about the sciences from the engineer and about languages from the reporter, masters who were pleased to complete his education.

The engineer’s obsession was to transmit all that he knew, to instruct by example as well as by word, and Herbert profited well from his professor’s lessons.

“If I die,” thought Cyrus Smith, “it is he who will take my place.”

The storm finally ended around the 9th of March but the sky remained covered with clouds during all of this last month of the summer. The atmosphere, violently troubled by these electrical disturbances, could not recover its former purity, and it was nearly always rain and fog except for three or four fine days which favored excursions of all sorts,

About this time, the female onager gave birth to a young one which belonged to the same sex as her mother and which did well. At the corral there was also an increase in the flock and several lambs were already bleating under the hangars to the great joy of Neb and Herbert who each had their favorites among the new-born.

They also tried to domesticate the peccaries, an attempt which completely succeeded. A stable was constructed near the poultry yard and they soon counted several young in a mood to be civilized, that is to say fattened under Neb’s care, Master Jup, charged with bringing them their daily nourishment, dishwater, kitchen scraps, etc. acquitted himself conscientiously in this job. He came now and then to amuse himself at the expense of his young boarders and to pull their tails, but it was mischievousness and not wickedness because these small wriggling tails amused him like a toy and his instinct was that of a child.

One day during this month of March, Pencroff, chatting with the engineer, reminded Cyrus Smith of a promise that he still had not had the time to fulfil.

“You spoke of a sort of lift to replace the long ladders of Granite House, Mister Cyrus,” he said to him. “Won’t you make it some day?”

“You wish to speak of a sort of lift?” replied Cyrus Smith.

“Call it a lift if you wish,” replied the sailor, “the name means nothing provided it can lift us to our dwelling without fatigue.”

“Nothing will be easier, Pencroff, but is it useful?”

“Certainly, Mister Cyrus. Now that we have the necessities, let us think a little about comfort. For people it will be luxurious if you wish; but for things it is indispensable! It is not convenient to climb up a long ladder when one is heavily loaded.”

“Well, Pencroff, we will try to satisfy you,” replied Cyrus Smith.

“But you do not have any engine available.”

“We will make it.”

“A steam engine?”

“No, a water engine.”

And in fact, to move his apparatus, a natural force was there for the engineer to use without great difficulty.

For this purpose it sufficed to increase the flow of the small diversion from the lake which furnished water to the interior of Granite House. The opening arranged between the stones and grass at the upper end of the passageway was enlarged. This produced a strong fall at the bottom of the corridor, whose overflow fell into the inside well. Below the fall, the engineer installed a cylinder with paddles which connected to the outside with a strong cable wound around a wheel and supporting a basket. By means of a long cord which came to the ground, which could engage and disengage with the hydraulic motor, they could raise the basket to the door of Granite House.

It was the 17th of March when the lift functioned for the first time and gave universal satisfaction. Henceforth all the loads, the wood, coal, provisions and the colonists themselves were hoisted by this simple system which replaced the primitive ladder that no one missed. Top showed particular enchantment with this improvement because he did not have and could not have Master Jup’s skill in climbing ladders and often he made the climb to Granite House either on Neb’s back or on that of the orang himself.

About this time Cyrus Smith also tried to make glass. First he had to adapt the old pottery furnace to this new application. This presented some rather great difficulties, but after several unfruitful attempts he succeeded in getting a glassworks going, which Gideon Spilett and Herbert, the natural assistants of the engineer, did not leave for several days.

As to the substances that enter into the composition of glass, they are only sand, chalk and soda (carbonate or sulphate). Now the shore could furnish the sand, the lime could furnish the chalk, the marine plants could furnish the soda, the pyrites could furnish the sulphuric acid, and the soil could furnish the coal to heat the furnace to the desired temperature. Thus Cyrus Smith found the conditions necessary for the operation.

The tool whose manufacture would offer the most difficulty was the glass blower, an iron tube five or six feet long which would collect the material at one end and keep it in the fuzed state. But by means of a long and thin sheet of iron which was rolled up like a gun barrel, Pencroff succeeded in making this blower which was soon in working condition.

On the 28th of March the furnace was heated up. One hundred parts of sand, thirty five of chalk, forty of sodium sulphate, mixed with two or three parts of powdered coal, composed the substance which was placed in fire clay crucibles. When the high temperature of the furnace had reduced it to the liquid state or at least to a pasty state, Cyrus Smith collected a certain quantity of this paste with the blower; he worked and reworked it on a previously made plate of metal so as to give it a suitable shape for blowing; then he passed the blower to Herbert and told him to blow through the other end.

“Like making soap bubbles?” asked the lad.

“Exactly,” replied the engineer.

And Herbert, puffing up his cheeks, blew into the blower taking care to turn it continually. His breath dilated the glassy mass. More fuzed material was added to the first batch and it soon resulted in a bubble that measured a foot in diameter. Then Cyrus Smith took the blower from Herbert’s hands and imparted a pendulum movement to it which ended by elongating the malleable bubble so as to give it a cylindrical-conical form.

The blowing operation had thus given a glass cylinder terminated by two hemispherical domes which were easy to detach by means of a sharp iron dipped in cold water; then by the same procedure this cylinder was split along its length. Having been made malleable by a second heating, it was stretched out on a plate and flattened with a wooden roller.

The first glass pane was made and it was sufficient to repeat the operation fifty times to make fifty panes. The windows of Granite House were shortly provided with transparent panes, not very clear perhaps, but sufficiently transparent.

As to cups, glasses and bottles, that was fun. Besides, they welcomed whatever came from the end of the blower. Pencroff asked for the privilege of “blowing” when his turn came, and it was a pleasure for him, but he blew so hard that his products took on the most amusing shapes, which earned his admiration.

The products took on the most amusing shapes.

During one of the excursions that was made about this time, a new tree was discovered whose produce added to the food supply of the colony.

Cyrus Smith and Herbert, while hunting, had ventured one day into the forest of the Far West on the left bank of the Mercy and, as always, the lad asked a thousand questions of the engineer to which he gladly replied. But they did not have their minds on the hunting which was the reason that they had no success. Now since Cyrus Smith was not a hunter and since Herbert, on the other hand, spoke about chemistry and physics, many a kangaroo, capybara and agouti within easy reach escaped the lad’s shots. The result was that, with the day nearly over, the two hunters would probably have a useless excursion, when Herbert stopped and uttered a joyous cry:

“Ah! Mister Cyrus, do you see this tree?”

And he showed him a shrub rather than a tree because it was only composed of a single stem, covered with a scaly bark, which carried striped leaves with small parallel veins.

“And what is this tree which resembles a small palm tree?” asked Cyrus Smith.

“It is a sago palm whose picture I have in our natural history dictionary.”

“But I do not see any fruit on this bush.”

“No, Mister Cyrus,” replied Herbert, “but its trunk has a flour that nature has already ground for us.”

“It is the breadfruit tree?”

“Yes! The breadfruit tree.”

“Well, my boy,” replied the engineer, “this is a precious discovery while we are waiting for our wheat harvest. Let’s get to work and I hope that you are not mistaken.”

Herbert was not mistaken. He broke a stem of a sago which was composed of a glandular texture enclosing a certain quantity of floury pith, traversed by ligneous bundles, separated by rings of the same substance arranged concentrically. With this flour was mixed a gummy sap with a disagreeable taste but that would be easy to remove by pressure. This cellular substance formed an extremely nourishing flour of superior quality whose exportation was formerly prohibited by Japanese laws.

Cyrus Smith and Herbert, after having studied the portion of the Far West where the sago grew, took some reference points and returned to Granite House where they made their discovery known.

The next day the colonists came to the harvest and Pencroff, becoming more and more enthusiastic about his island, said to the engineer:

“Mister Cyrus, do you believe that there are islands for castaways?”

“What do you mean by that, Pencroff?”

“Well, I mean that there are islands created especially to make a shipwreck convenient, and on which poor devils can always manage their affairs.”

“That is possible,” replied the engineer, smiling.

“It is certain, sir,” replied Pencroff, “and it is none the less certain that Lincoln Island in one of them.”

They returned to Granite House with an ample harvest of sago stems. The engineer made a press in order to extract the gummy sap mixed with the flour and he obtained a significant quantity of flour which, in Neb’s hands, were transformed into cakes and puddings. It still was not real wheat bread but one could imagine that it was.

During this period the onager, the goats and the sheep of the corral furnished the daily milk necessary for the colony. Also the cart, or rather a sort of light covered trap which replaced it, made frequent trips to the corral, and when it was Pencroff’s turn to do it, he took Jup and had him drive it. Jup cracked his whip and acquitted himself with his usual intelligence.

All therefore prospered, at Granite House as well as at the corral and truly the colonists, though they were far from their native land, had nothing to complain of. They were so well made for this life and besides so accustomed to this island, that they would not have left its hospitable soil without regret.

And yet, such is the love of one’s country in the heart of man, that if some vessel had unexpectedly appeared in view of the island, the colonists would have signaled it, they would have attracted its attention, and they would have left!... While waiting for this, they lived a happy existence, and they feared rather than desired any event which might come to interrupt it.

But who could deceive himself and take comfort in illusions that fortune would always favor them!

Be it as it may, this Lincoln Island on which the colonists had lived for more than a year was often the subject of their conversation, and one day an observation was made which would later have serious consequences.

It was the 1st of April, Easter Sunday, that Cyrus Smith and his companions had sanctified with rest and prayer. It was a fine day like an October day in the northern hemisphere.

After dinner, toward evening, all were gathered under the veranda at the edge of Grand View Plateau and they looked at night coming on at the horizon. Several cups of this beverage of elder tree berries, which took the place of coffee, had been served by Neb. They chatted about the island and its isolated position in the Pacific when Gideon Spilett was led to say:

They chatted about the island and its isolated position.

“My dear Cyrus, have you, since you possessed this sextant in the case, have you again taken the bearings of our island?”

“No,” replied the engineer.

“But wouldn’t it perhaps be wise to do it, with this instrument which is more accurate than the one you used?”

“What’s the good?” said Pencroff. “The island is doing right well where it is!”

“Doubtless,” replied Gideon Spilett, “but the imperfection of the apparatus has affected the accuracy of the observations which can easily be verified exactly...”

“You are right, my dear Spilett,” replied the engineer, “and I should have made this verification sooner, but if I have committed some error it should not be more than 5° in longitude or in latitude.”

“Well, who knows?” replied the reporter, “who knows if we are not much nearer to inhabited land than we think?”

“We will know tomorrow,” replied Cyrus Smith, “and we would have known it already if it were not for those occupations which left me no leisure.”

“Fine!” said Pencroff, “Mister Cyrus is too good an observer to be mistaken and if the island has not budged from its place, then it is just where he put it.”

“We will see.”

The next day, by means of the sextant, the engineer made the observations necessary to verify the coordinates that he had already obtained and this was the result of his operation:

His first observation had given him for the position of Lincoln Island:

In west longitude: from 150° to 155°;

In south latitude: from 30° to 35°. The second gave exactly:

In west longitude: 150° 30′;

In south latitude: 34° 57′.

So, in spite of the imperfection of his apparatus, Cyrus Smith had operated with such competence that his error had not exceeded five degrees.

“Now,” said Gideon Spilett, “since we possess an atlas as well as a sextant, let us see, my dear Cyrus, the exact position that Lincoln Island occupies in the Pacific.”

Herbert went to find the atlas which, as we know, had been edited in France and which consequently had its nomenclature in the French language.

They opened up the map of the Pacific and the engineer, compass in hand, prepared to determine its position.

Suddenly the compass stopped in his hand and he said:

“But an island already exists in this part of the Pacific!”

“An island,” cried Pencroff.

“Ours, doubtless,” replied Gideon Spilett.

“No,” replied Cyrus Smith. “This island is situated at 153° longitude and 37° 11′ latitude, that is to say at two and a half degrees further west and two degrees further south than Lincoln Island.”

“And what island is this?” asked Herbert.

“Tabor Island.”

“An important island?”

“No, an island lost in the Pacific, and which has probably never been visited.”

“Well, we will visit it,” said Pencroff.

“We?”

“Yes, Mister Cyrus. We will construct a decked boat and I will be in charge of sailing it. At what distance are we from this Tabor Island?”

“About a hundred and fifty miles to the northeast,” replied Cyrus Smith.

“A hundred and fifty miles! What’s that?” replied Pencroff. “In forty eight hours and with a good wind we will clear it.”

“But for what good?” asked the reporter.

“We don’t know. Let’s see.”

And on this response it was decided that a seaworthy boat would be constructed to take to the sea around the coming October at the return of the fine season.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Abandoned

Chapter X

Construction of the boat—Second harvest of corn—Hunting koala—A new plant more pleasant than useful—A whale in sight—The harpoon from Vineyard—Cutting up the cetacean—Using the whalebones—The end of the month of May—Pencroff has nothing left to wish for.

WHEN Pencroff got an idea into his head, he would not rest until he executed it. Now, he wanted to visit Tabor Island and since a boat of a certain size was necessary for this trip, he would construct the aforesaid boat.

This is the plan which was drawn up by the engineer in agreement with the sailor.

The keel of the boat would measure thirty five feet and the beam nine feet—which would make it a fast sailer provided its bottom and underwater lines were well made—and it would not draw more than six feet, a level of water sufficient to maintain it against the drift. It would be decked along its entire length, pierced by two hatchways which would give access to two cabins separated by a partition, and rigged as a sloop with a spanker, a staysail, a foresail, a forestaysail, and a jib. These are very manageable sails conducting themselves well against squalls and holding on firmly when close-hauled. Finally, its hull would be carvel-built, that is to say that the planking would be flush instead of overlapped. As to its ribs, they would heat press it into place after adjusting the planking, which would be mounted on dummy frames.

What wood would be employed in the construction of this boat, elm or fir, both being abundant on the island? They decided on the fir, a wood which is a little “cracked,” as the carpenters would say, but which is easy to work and can withstand the water as well as the elm.

These details concluded, it was decided that, since the return of the fine season was six months away, that only Cyrus Smith and Pencroff would work on the boat. Gideon Spilett and Herbert would continue to hunt, and neither Neb nor Master Jup, his assistant, would abandon the domestic activity that had devolved upon them.

The trees were immediately chosen, felled and branches removed, and sawed into planks, since they had been able to make some long saws. Eight days later, in a recess of land that existed between the Chimneys and the wall, a shipyard was built, and a keel thirty five feet in length, with a sternpost at the rear and a stem up front, was stretched out on the sand.

A keel, thirty five feet in length...

Cyrus Smith was not treading in the dark in this new activity. He knew about maritime construction as he knew about nearly everything else, and it was on paper that he first made the design for the boat. Besides, he was ably seconded by Pencroff, who had worked for several years in a Brooklyn shipyard and knew the practical end of the business. It was only after hard calculations and mature thought that the dummy frames were fitted to the keel.

Pencroff was all afire to do well at this new enterprise and he would not for a moment think of abandoning it.

Only one thing could tear him away from his shipyard, and for only a day. It was the second harvest of corn, which was done on the 15th of April. It was as successful as the first and gave the proportion of grains announced in advance.

“Five bushels, Mister Cyrus,” said Pencroff, after having scrupulously measured his riches.

“Five bushels,” replied the engineer, “and at one hundred thirty thousand grains per bushel, that makes six hundred fifty thousand grains.”

“Well, we will sow it all this time,” said the sailor, “less a little reserve however.”

“Yes, Pencroff, and if the coming harvest gives a proportional yield, we will have four thousand bushels.”

“And we will eat bread?”

“We will eat bread.”

“But we will have to make a mill.”

“We will make a mill.”

The third cornfield was thus incomparably more extensive than the first two, and the ground, prepared with extreme care, received the precious seed. That done, Pencroff returned to his work.

During this time Gideon Spilett and Herbert hunted in the neighborhood and they ventured rather deeply into the still unknown parts of the Far West, their guns loaded with shot, ready for any unpleasant encounter. It was an inextricable medley of magnificent trees pressed against each other because of a lack of space. The exploration of these wooded masses was extremely difficult and the reporter never chanced there without carrying the pocket compass, because the sun could hardly be seen through the thick branches and it would have been difficult to find one’s way. It happened, naturally, that game was more rare in these regions where there was little liberty of movement. However, three large herbivores were killed during this last half of April. These were some koalas, a specimen of which the colonists had already seen to the north of the lake, who stupidly allowed themselves to be killed among the large branches of some trees on which they had sought refuge. Their hides were brought to Granite House and with the aid of sulphuric acid, they were subjected to a sort of tanning which rendered them usable.

A discovery, precious from another point of view, was also made during one of these excursions thanks to Gideon Spilett.

It was the 30th of April. The two hunters had pushed their way into the southwest of the Far West when the reporter, preceding Herbert by some fifty paces, arrived at a sort of clearing in which the trees, having more space, allowed a few rays to penetrate.

At first Gideon Spilett was surprised by the odor from certain plants with straight cylindrical branchy stems which produced very small clustered berries. The reporter tore off one or two of these stems and returned to the lad, saying to him:

“What can this be, Herbert?”

“And where did you find this plant, Mister Spilett?”

“There in the clearing where it grows abundantly.”

“Well, Mister Spilett,” said Herbert, “this is a discovery that will assure you Pencroff’s eternal gratitude.”

“It is tobacco then?”

“Yes, and if it is not of the first quality, it is none the less tobacco.”

“Ah! Worthy Pencroff! How happy he’ll be! But he will not smoke it all, the devil! He will give us our share!”

“Ah! I have an idea, Mister Spilett,” replied Herbert. “Let us not say anything to Pencroff. We will take the time to prepare these leaves and one fine day we will present him with a full pipe.”

“And on that day, Herbert, our worthy companion will have nothing more to wish for in this world.”

The reporter and the lad took a good quantity of the precious plant and they returned to Granite House where they brought it in deceitfully with as much precaution as if Pencroff had been the most severe of customs inspectors.

Cyrus Smith and Neb were taken into confidence and the sailor suspected nothing during all of the rather long time that was needed for drying the leaves, chopping them up, and subjecting them to a certain torrefaction over some hot stones. This required two months but all these manipulations were made without Pencroff’s knowledge because, occupied with the construction of the boat, he only returned to Granite House when it was time to go to bed.

One time, however, his favorite activity was interrupted, on the 1st of May, by a fishing adventure in which all the colonists took part.

For several days they had observed an enormous animal swimming in the waters of Lincoln Island, two or three miles out to sea. It was a whale of the largest size, belonging to a southern species called “Cape Whale.”

“How lucky it would be if we could get hold of it,” cried the sailor. “Ah! If we had a suitable boat and a working harpoon, how I would say: ‘Let us chase the animal because it is worth the trouble that it takes!’”

“Well, Pencroff,” said Gideon Spilett, “I would like to see you handle the harpoon. That would be interesting.”

“Very interesting and not without danger,” said the engineer, “but since we do not have the means to attack this animal, it is useless for us to preoccupy ourselves with it.”

“I am astonished,” said the reporter, “to see a whale in this relatively high latitude.”

“Why so, Mister Spilett?” replied Herbert. “We are precisely in that part of the Pacific that English and American fisherman call the ‘Whale Field,’ and it is here, between New Zealand and South America, that the whales of the southern hemisphere are met with in the greatest number.”

“Nothing is more true,” replied Pencroff, “and what surprises me is that we have not seen any others. But this is of little importance since we can’t get near it.”

And Pencroff returned to his work, but not without a sigh of regret because in every sailor there is a fisherman, and if the pleasure of fishing is in direct ratio to the size of the animal, one can image what a whaler feels in the presence of a whale.

If he could only have had this pleasure! But they could not conceal from themselves the fact that such a prey would be very profitable to the colony because the oil, the blubber and the whalebones would find many uses.

Now it happened that the whale seemed to have no wish to leave the waters of the island. Herbert and Gideon Spilett, when they were not hunting, and Neb while watching his stoves, did not leave the telescope and observed all the movements of the animal, either from the windows of Granite House or from Grand View Plateau. The cetacean, soundly entrenched in the vast Union Bay, plowed rapidly from Cape Mandible to Cape Claw, propelled by its very powerful caudal fin. It moved with sudden jolts with a speed that sometimes approached up to twelve miles per hour. Sometimes it also approached so near to the island that they could see it in detail. It was definitely a southern whale, entirely black, and its head was more slumped than that of the northern whale.

They also saw it throw out through its blow-holes a cloud of vapor to a great height ... or was it water, because, strange as it seems, naturalists and whalers are still not in agreement on this subject. Is it air or is it water which is ejected? It is generally admitted that it is vapor which, condensing upon sudden contact with the cold air, falls down as rain.

However, the presence of this marine mammal preoccupied the colonists. It especially agitated Pencroff and distracted him during his work. He ended by yearning for this whale like something forbidden to a child. At night he talked about it in his sleep and certainly, if he had the means to attack it, if the boat had been ready to take to sea, he would not have hesitated to go out in pursuit.

But what the colonists could not do, chance did for them, and on the 3rd of May, Neb’s shouts from his kitchen window announced that the whale was stranded on the shore.

Herbert and Gideon Spilett, who were about to go hunting, left their guns, Pencroff threw away his ax, Cyrus Smith and Neb joined their companions, and everyone quickly ran to where the stranding had taken place.

The stranding occurred on the beach at Flotsam Point, three miles from Granite House, at high tide. It was therefore probable that the cetacean could not easily disentangle himself. In any case they must hurry in order to cut off its retreat if this became necessary. They ran with picks and iron spears, crossed the bridge over the Mercy, redescended the right bank of the river, took to the shore, and in less than twenty minutes the colonists were near the enormous animal above which a world of birds already swarmed.

“What a monster,” cried Neb.

“What a monster,” cried Neb.

And the expression was justified because this was a southern whale, eighty feet long, a giant of its species, which would not weigh less than one hundred fifty thousand pounds.

However, the stranded monster did not move nor did it struggle to get back to the sea while it was still high tide.

The colonists soon had the explanation for its immobility when, at low tide, they were able to go around the animal.

It was dead, with a harpoon sticking into its left side.

“Are there whalers in our waters,” Gideon Spilett said immediately.

“Why do you say that?” asked the sailor.

“Since this harpoon is still there...”

“Ah! Mister Spilett, that proves nothing,” replied Pencroff. “Whales can travel thousands of miles with a harpoon in their sides, and this one could have been struck in the North Atlantic and come to die in the South Pacific, that would not be astonishing!”

“However...,” said Gideon Spilett, not satisfied with Pencroff’s statement.

“That is perfectly possible,” replied Cyrus Smith, “but let us examine this harpoon. Perhaps, as is customary, the whalers have engraved the name of their vessel on it.”

Pencroff pulled out the harpoon from the animal’s side and read this inscription on it:

Maria-Stella Vineyard.

“A vessel from the Vineyard! A vessel from my country!” he cried. “The Maria-Stella! A fine whaler, believe me! I know that ship! Ah! My friends, a vessel from the Vineyard, a whaler from the Vineyard.”[1]

And the sailor, swinging the harpoon, repeated not without emotion, this name which had touched his heart, this name from his native land.

But since they could not wait for the Maria-Stella to come and reclaim the animal harpooned by it, they resolved to proceed to cut it up before it became decomposed. The birds of prey, who had watched this rich prey for several days, wanted to take possession of it without further delay, and they had to scare them away with gunshots.

This whale was a female whose breasts would furnish a large quantity of milk which, in the opinion of the naturalist Dieffenbach, can pass as cow’s milk, since it differs from it neither in taste, nor color, nor density.

Pencroff had formerly served on a whaling vessel and he was able to supervise the cutting operation—a rather unpleasant operation which lasted three days, but which none of the colonists avoided, not even Gideon Spilett whom, as the sailor said, would end by becoming “a very good castaway.”

The blubber, cut into parallel slices two and a half feet thick, then divided into pieces weighing a thousand pounds each, were melted in large earthen vases carried to the very spot—because they did not want to smell up the approaches to Grand View Plateau—and in this fusion it lost about a third of its weight. But there were lavish quantities: The tongue alone gave six thousand pounds of oil and the lower lip four thousand. Then, with this blubber, which would provide stearin and glycerin for a long time, they still had the whalebones which would doubtless find some application even though no umbrellas nor corsets were used at Granite House. The upper part of the mouth of the cetacean was furnished, on both sides, with eight hundred very elastic horned blades of a fibrous texture and tapered like two large combs with teeth six feet long, which served to catch the thousands of animacules, small fishes and mollusks on which the whale fed.

With the operation completed to the great satisfaction of the operators, the remains of the animal were left to the birds, who would make it disappear to its last vestiges, and the daily work was resumed at Granite House.

However, before returning to the shipyard, Cyrus Smith had the idea of making certain contrivances which vividly excited the curiosity of his companions. He took a dozen of the whalebones and cut them into six equal parts, sharpening their ends.

“To what use will you put this, Mister Cyrus,” asked Herbert, “when you have finished this operation?”

“To kill wolves, foxes, and even jaguars,” replied the engineer.

“Now?”

“No, this winter, when we will have ice.”

“I do not understand” replied Herbert.

“You will understand, my child,” replied the engineer. “This device is not my invention and it is frequently used by Aleutian hunters in Russian America. These whalebones that you see, my friends, well, when it is below freezing, I will bend them, sprinkle them with water until they are entirely coated with a layer of ice which will keep them curved, and I will scatter them on the snow after having previously covered them with a layer of blubber. Now, what will happen if a hungry animal swallows one of these baits? The heat from his stomach will melt the ice and the whalebone will expand and pierce it with its sharp ends.”

“That is ingenious!” said Pencroff.

“And it will save us powder and shot,” replied Cyrus Smith.

“This will be worth more than traps,” added Neb.

“Let us wait then for winter!”

“Let us wait for winter.”

However, the construction of the vessel advanced and toward the end of the month, half of the planking was completed. Already they could see that it would have an excellent shape and that it would take well to the sea.

Pencroff worked with a zest without parallel, and he needed his robust nature to resist these fatigues; but his companions secretly prepared a reward for his pains, and on the 31st of May he experienced one of the greatest joys of his life.

On this day, when he finished dinner and was about to leave the table, Pencroff felt a hand on his shoulder.

It was the hand of Gideon Spilett who said to him:

“One moment, Master Pencroff, don’t go like that! You have forgotten your dessert.”

“Thanks, Mister Spilett,” replied the sailor, “I am returning to work.”

“Well, a cup of coffee, my friend?”

“Nothing else.”

“A pipe then?”

Pencroff suddenly got up and his fine large body paled when he saw the reporter present him with a full pipe and Herbert with a burning cinder.

The sailor wanted to say a word, but without success; then seizing the pipe, he carried it to his lips. He applied the cinder and gulped five or six times.

A bluish cloud and a fragrance developed, and from within the depths of this cloud, they heard a delirious voice which kept repeating:

“Tobacco, real tobacco!”

“Tobacco, real tobacco!”

“Yes, Pencroff,” replied Cyrus Smith, “and excellent tobacco at that!”

“Oh! Divine Providence! Sacred Author of all things!” cried the sailor. “Nothing is lacking on our island!”

And Pencroff smoked and smoked and smoked.

“And who made this discovery?” he finally asked. “You, Herbert, no doubt?”

“No, Pencroff, it was Mister Spilett.”

“Mister Spilett!” cried the sailor, squeezing the chest of the reporter who had never suffered such an embrace.

“Oof! Pencroff,” replied Gideon Spilett, recovering his breath, “A quick compromise. Give a part of your thanks to Herbert, who recognized this plant, to Cyrus, who prepared it, and to Neb, who took pains to guard our secret well!”

“Well, my friends, I will repay you some day!” replied the sailor. “Now we are friends for life!”

1. A port in the State of New York.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Abandoned

Chapter XI

Winter—Pressing wool—The mill—Pencroff’s obsession—Whalebones—To what use an albatross can be put—The fuel of the future—Top and Jup—Storms—Damage at the poultry yard—An excursion to the marshes—Cyrus Smith alone—Exploration of the well.

WINTER arrived with the month of June which is the December of the northern hemisphere and the main occupation was the making of warm and sturdy clothing.

The sheep at the corral had been divested of their wool and it was now a matter of transforming this precious textile material into fabric.

It goes without saying that Cyrus Smith, not having either a carding machine, nor a wool-combing machine, nor a smoothing machine, nor a drawing machine, nor a twisting machine, nor a “Mule-Jenny,” nor a “self-acting” machine to spin the wool, nor a loom to weave it with, had to proceed in a simpler way that would save the spinning and weaving. In fact, he intended simply to make use of the property that wool filaments have when pressed in all directions, that of becoming entangled and criss-crossed into a material called felt. This felt could be obtained by a simple pressing, an operation which, if it diminished the softness of the fabric, significantly increased its heat insulating properties. The wool furnished by the sheep was made of very short strands which was good for felting.

The engineer, aided by his companions including Pencroff—he had to abandon his boat once more—began the preliminary operations which had as its goal to rid the wool of this oily and greasy substance with which it is impregnated and which is called suint. This degreasing was done in wash-tubs in which the wool was immersed for twenty four hours at a temperature of seventy degrees. Then it was thoroughly washed in a soda bath. Later it would be squeezed dry, becoming compressed and producing a firm felt, rough doubtless and of no value in the industrial centers of Europe or America but which would be highly appreciated in the “markets of Lincoln Island.”

This kind of fabric has been known from the earliest times and the first wool fabric was made by this very procedure that Cyrus Smith was going to use.

Where his abilities as an engineer would be needed was in the construction of a machine to press the wool, because he knew how to profit from the unused mechanical force inherent in the water falling on the beach to actuate a pressing machine.

Nothing was more rudimentary. A shaft, provided with lifters which would raise and lower vertical hammers on each revolution, troughs to receive the wool on which the hammers would fall, a strong timber housing to support the entire system and hold it together: such was the machine in question and such it has been throughout the centuries, until the hammers were replaced by compressing cylinders which no longer subjected the material to a beating but to a real rolling action.

The operation, well supervised by Cyrus Smith, succeeded as they had hoped. The wool, previously impregnated with a soapy solution intended on the one hand to facilitate the sliding action, the compression and the softening and, on the other hand, to prevent its alteration from the thrashing, left the mill as a thick layer of felt. The streaks and coarseness with which the strands of wool are naturally provided with were so well intertwined with one another that they formed a fabric equally suited to making clothing as well as blankets. It obviously was not merino, nor muslin, nor Scotch cashmere, nor worsted, nor repp, nor Chinese satin, nor Orleans cloth, nor alpaca, nor flannel! It was “lincolnian felt,” and Lincoln Island had another industry.

Thus with good clothing and thick blankets, the colonists could face the winter of 1866-67 without fear.

The severe frost began to really make itself felt toward the 20th of June and to his great regret, Pencroff had to suspend the construction of the boat which besides he could not finish before the coming spring.

The sailor’s obsession was to make a voyage of discovery to Tabor Island although Cyrus Smith did not approve of this voyage for curiosity’s sake because there evidently was nothing useful to find on this semi-arid and deserted rock. A voyage of one hundred fifty miles in a relatively small boat on an unknown sea could not but cause him some apprehension. If the vessel, once at sea, could not reach Tabor Island and if it could not return to Lincoln Island, what would become of it in this Pacific so full of disasters?

Cyrus Smith often spoke about this project with Pencroff and he found in the sailor a rather strange stubbornness to complete this voyage, a stubbornness which he could not explain.

One day the engineer said to him, “My friend, after having said so many nice things about Lincoln Island, after having indicated so many times that you would be sorry to leave it, you are the first to want to go.”

“To leave it for several days only,” replied Pencroff, “For several days only, Mister Cyrus! Time to come and go, to see what is on the islet.”

“But it cannot be as good as Lincoln Island!”

“I know that in advance.”

“Then why venture there?”

“To know what goes on at Tabor Island.”

“But nothing happens there! Nothing can happen there.”

“Who knows?”

“And what if you are caught in some storm?”

“We need not fear that in the fine season,” replied Pencroff. “But, Mister Cyrus, since we must think of everything, I ask your permission to take Herbert with me on this voyage.”

“Pencroff,” replied the engineer, placing his hand on the sailor’s shoulder, “do you think that we could ever forgive ourselves if some harm came to you or to this lad whom chance has made our son?”

“Mister Cyrus,” replied Pencroff with firm confidence, “we will not cause you this grief. Besides, we will speak again about this voyage when the time will come to make it. Then I imagine, when you will see our boat well rigged, with good topsides, when you will see how well it takes to the sea, when we will make a tour of our island—because we will do it together—I imagine, say I, that you will no longer hesitate to let me leave. I will not hide from you that your boat will be a masterpiece.”

“At least say ‘our boat’ Pencroff,” replied the engineer, momentarily disarmed.

The conversation ended in this way to commence again at a later time without convincing either the sailor or the engineer.

The first snow fell toward the end of the month of June. Previously the corral had been well provisioned and daily visits were no longer necessary, but it was decided that they would not let a week go by without returning there.

The traps were set again and they tried the devices made by Cyrus Smith. The whalebones were bent, encased in a sheath of ice, covered with a thick layer of blubber and placed at the edge of the forest where animals usually passed on their way to the lake.

To the great satisfaction of the engineer, this invention, repeatedly used by Aleutian fishermen, succeeded perfectly. A dozen foxes, some wild boars, and even a jaguar were taken. They found these animals dead, their stomachs pierced by the extended whalebones.

At this time the colonists made their first attempt to communicate with their fellow men.

Gideon Spilett had already thought several times either of throwing a notice enclosed in a bottle into the sea that the current could perhaps carry to some inhabited shore or to entrust it to a pigeon. But how could they seriously hope that pigeons or bottles could cross the distance which separated the island from land twelve hundred miles away? It was pure folly.

But on the 30th of June the capture was made, not without difficulty, of an albatross which Herbert’s shot had slightly wounded in the leg. It was a magnificent bird of that family of great flyers whose extended wings measure ten feet and who can cross seas as large as the Pacific.

Herbert would have wanted to keep this superb bird whose wound had promptly healed. He intended to tame it but Gideon Spilett made him to understand that they could not neglect this occasion to try to correspond, by means of this courier, with the lands of the Pacific. Herbert had to yield, because if the albatross had come from some inhabited region he would not fail to return there when he was set free.

Perhaps, deep down, Gideon Spilett, still a newsman at heart, was not sorry to entrust to slim chance an article relating to the adventures of the colonists of Lincoln Island. What success the reporter would gain for the New York Herald and for the issue which contained the story, if ever it reached the address of its editor, the honorable John Bennett!

Gideon Spilett then wrote up a concise article which he put in a strong bag of gummed cloth, with an earnest request to anyone who should find it, that it be forwarded to the offices of the New York Herald. This small sack was attached to the neck of the albatross and not to its foot because these birds are in the habit of resting on the surface of the sea; then this rapid courier of the skies was set free, and it was not without some emotion that the colonists saw it disappear far into the haze in the west.

A small sack was attached to the neck of the albatross.

“Where is he going?” asked Pencroff.

“Toward New Zealand,” replied Herbert.

“Bon Voyage!” cried the sailor who did not expect any great result from this method of correspondence.

With the winter, activities were resumed inside Granite House, mending the clothes, various preparations among others the making of sails for the boat, which were cut from the inexhaustible envelope of the balloon.

During the month of July the cold was intense but they spared neither the wood nor the coal. Cyrus Smith had installed a second chimney in the great hall and it was there that they passed the long evenings. Chatting while they worked, reading when not working, the time passed profitably for everyone.

And the time passed without boredom.

It was a real satisfaction for the colonists when, in this room well lighted by candles, well heated by coal, after a comforting dinner, steaming cups filled with elderberry coffee, pipes giving forth a fragrant smoke, they heard the tempest roaring outside! It was perfect comfort if perfect comfort can ever exist for those who are far from their fellow men and without possible communication with them. They always chatted about their country, of the friends they had left behind, of the grandeur of the American republic whose influence could not but increase and Cyrus Smith, who had been very involved with the affairs of the Union, vividly interested his listeners with his recitals, his perceptions and his predictions.

It happened one day that Gideon Spilett had occasion to say:

“But in the end, my dear Cyrus, all this industrial and commercial activity in which you predict a continual increase, is it not in danger of coming to a complete halt sooner or later?”

“To a halt? And why so?”

“By a lack of coal which can be rightly called the most precious of minerals.”

“Yes, it is the most precious,” replied the engineer, “and it seems to me that nature wanted to emphasize this by making the diamond, which is pure carbon alone in the crystallized state.”

“You do not wish to say, Mister Cyrus,” retorted Pencroff, “that they will burn diamonds in the way coal is burned in furnaces?”

“No, my friend,” replied Cyrus Smith.

“However I insist,” said Gideon Spilett. “You cannot deny that one day all the coal will be used up.”

“Oh! The coal deposits are still considerable, and a hundred thousand miners removing five million metric tons annually do not come anywhere near in exhausting it.”

“With an increase in the consumption of coal,” replied Gideon Spilett, “one can predict that these one hundred thousand miners will soon become two hundred thousand miners and that the extraction will be doubled.”

“Doubtless; but after the mines of Europe, which new machines will soon exploit to greater depths, the mines of America and Australia will continue to furnish the needs of industry for a long time.”

“How long?” asked the reporter.

“At least two hundred fifty or three hundred years.”

“That is reassuring for us,” replied Pencroff, “but disturbing for our great grand cousins.”

“They will find something else,” said Herbert.

“I hope so,” replied Gideon Spilett, “because without coal, no more machines, and without machines, no more railroads, no more steamships, no more factories, no more progress for modern life.”

“But what will they find?” asked Pencroff. “Can you imagine, Mister Cyrus?”

“Just about, my friend.”

“And what will they burn in the place of coal.”

“Water,” replied Cyrus Smith.

“Water,” cried Pencroff, “water to heat steamships and locomotives, water to heat water?”

“Yes, but water decomposed into its basic elements,” replied Cyrus Smith, “decomposed doubtless by electricity which will then become a powerful and manageable force, because all great discoveries, by some unexplainable law, seem to coincide and become completed at the same time. Yes, my friends, I believe that water will one day be employed as a fuel, that hydrogen and oxygen, which compose it, used alone or together, will furnish an inexhaustible source of heat and light and with an intensity that coal cannot provide. One day, in the place of coal, the coal bunkers of steamers and the tenders of locomotives will be loaded with these two compressed gases which will burn in furnaces with an enormous heating power. Then there will be nothing to fear. As long as this earth is inhabited, it will provide for the needs of its inhabitants and neither light nor heat will ever be lacking, nor will the products of the vegetable, mineral, and animal kingdoms. I believe that when the coalmines have been exhausted, they will heat and be heated with water. Water is the coal of the future.”

“I would like to see that,” said the sailor.

“You came of age too soon, Pencroff,” replied Neb, who intervened in the discussion only with these words.

Nevertheless it was not Neb’s words which ended the conversation but Top’s barking which burst out with that strange intonation that had already preoccupied the engineer. At the same time, Top began to pace around the orifice of the well which opened at the end of the inside corridor.

“Why does Top still bark like this?” asked Pencroff.

“And Jup growl this way?” added Herbert.

In fact the orang, joining the dog, gave unmistaken signs of agitation, and strange to say, these two animals appeared to be rather anxious instead of irritated.

“It is evident,” said Gideon Spilett, “that this well is in direct communication with the sea and that some marine animal comes from time to time to breathe at the bottom.”

“It is evident,” replied the sailor, “because there is no other explanation to be given... come, quiet, Top,” added Pencroff, turning toward the dog, “and you Jup, to your room!”

The ape and the dog were silent. Jup went to bed but Top remained in the room and continued to make muffled grunts throughout the evening.

There was no more question about the incident which however, darkened the brow of the engineer.

During the rest of the month of July it alternated between rain and frost. The temperature did not fall below that of the preceding winter and it did not go lower than eight degrees Fahrenheit (13.33° centigrade below zero). But if this winter was not colder, nevertheless it was more troubled by tempests and windstorms. There still were violent assaults by the sea which once again jeopardized the Chimneys. It seemed that some violent current, provoked by some underseas commotion, lifted these monstrous waves and threw them against the wall of Granite House.

When the colonists, leaning against their windows, saw these enormous masses of water breaking under their eyes, they could not but admire the magnificent spectacle of this impotent fury of the ocean. The waves rebounded as a dazzling foam, the beach completely disappeared under this angry deluge, and the wall seemed to emerge from the sea itself, whose sprays rose to a height of over one hundred feet.

During these storms it was difficult to venture on the island’s trails, even dangerous, because falling trees were frequent. The colonists however did not let a week pass without visiting the corral. Fortunately, this enclosure, sheltered by the southern buttress of Mount Franklin, did not suffer much from the violences of the storm which spared the trees, the sheds and the fence. But the poultry yard, built on Grand View Plateau, and consequently directly exposed to the winds from the east, was subjected to rather considerable damage. The pigeon house was twice broken up and the fence was also damaged. They had to rebuild everything in a more sturdy manner because they could clearly see that Lincoln Island was situated in the worst waters of the Pacific. It really seemed that it formed the central point of a vast cyclone which whipped about like a spinning top. Only here it was the top that was stationary and the whip that turned round.

During the first week of the month of August the squalls abated little by little and the atmosphere recovered the calm that it seemed to have lost forever. With the calm the temperature dropped, the frost returned very vividly and the thermometer column fell to eight degrees Fahrenheit below zero (22° centigrade below freezing).

On the 3rd of August an excursion which had been planned for several days was made to the southeast of the island toward Tadorn Marsh. The hunters were tempted by the waterfowl which had established their winter quarters there. Wild duck, snipe, pintail, teal and grebe abounded there and it was decided that a day would be devoted for an expedition against these birds.

Not only Gideon Spilett and Herbert, but Pencroff and Neb also took part in the expedition. Only Cyrus Smith, on the pretext of some work, did not join them and remained at Granite House.

The hunters took the Port Balloon Road to reach the marshes after having promised to return in the evening. Top and Jup accompanied them. After they passed over the Mercy Bridge, the engineer raised it and returned with the thought of putting into execution a project for which he wanted to be alone.

Now this project was to minutely explore the inside of the well whose orifice opened at the level of Granite House and which communicated with the sea since formerly it had served as a passage for the waters of the lake.

Why did Top pace so often around this orifice? Why these strange barks when a sort of uneasiness drove him toward the well? Why did Jup join Top in a sort of common anxiety? Did this well have other branches in vertical communication with the sea? Did it reach out to other portions of the island? This Cyrus Smith wanted to know and to be the first to know. He therefore resolved to attempt an exploration of the well during the absence of his companions and the occasion presented itself for doing it.

It was easy to descend to the bottom of the well by using the cord ladder that had not been in service since the installation of the elevator and whose length was sufficient. This is what the engineer did. He dragged the ladder up to the opening, whose diameter measured about six feet and he let it unroll after having secured it firmly at its upper end. Then, lighting a lantern, taking a revolver and putting a cutlass into his belt, he began to descend the first rungs. The wall was solid throughout; but there were several projections of rock here and there and by means of these projections it would have been possible for an agile being to climb up to the well’s opening.

The engineer made a mental note of this; but on casting his lantern on these projections he could find no footprint, nor any fracture which would make him think that it had been used as a staircase either recently or in the past.

Cyrus Smith descended deeper, lighting up all the points of the wall.

He saw nothing suspicious there.

He saw nothing suspicious there.

When the engineer reached the last rungs he felt the surface of the water which was then perfectly calm. Neither at this level nor at any other part of the well was there any lateral corridor which could branch out to the interior of this solid mass. The wall, which Cyrus Smith struck with the handle of his cutlass, sounded solid. It was a compact granite through which no living being could blaze a passage. To get to the bottom of the well and then ascend to the orifice it was necessary to pass through the always submerged channel which put it in communication with the sea via the rocky subsoil under the beach, and this was possible only for marine animals. As to the question of knowing where the channel ran, at what point on the shore and at what depth under the waves, that could not be determined.

Having completed his exploration, Cyrus Smith then climbed back up, drew up the ladder, covered the opening of the well and returned, full of thoughts, to the large hall of Granite House, saying to himself,

“I have seen nothing, yet there is something there.”

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Abandoned

Chapter XII

The rigging of the boat—An attack by colpeos—Jup wounded—Jup nursed—Jup healing—Completion of the boat—Pencroff’s triumph—The “Bonadventure”—First trial to the south of the island—An unexpected document.

THAT same evening the hunters returned, having had a good hunt and literally loaded down with game. They carried all that four men could carry. Top had a string of pintail around his neck and Jup a belt of snipe around his body.

“Here master,” cried Neb, “here is something to employ our time with! Preserves, pies, we will have tasty dishes. But someone must help me. I am counting on you Pencroff.”

“No Neb,” replied the sailor, “the job of rigging the boat calls me, and you must do without me.”

“And you, Mister Herbert?”

“Me, Neb, I must go to the corral tomorrow,” replied the lad.

“Then will it be you, Mr. Spilett, who will help me?”

“To oblige you, Neb,” replied the reporter, “but I warn you that if you reveal your recipes to me I will publish them.”

“As you see fit, Mister Spilett,” replied Neb, “as you see fit.”

And that was how Gideon Spilett became Neb’s assistant and was installed the next day in his culinary laboratory. But previously the engineer had acquainted him with the result of the exploration that he had made on the previous day. In this respect the reporter agreed with Cyrus Smith that although nothing was found a secret still remained to be discovered.

The frost lasted for still another week and the colonists did not leave Granite House except for the attention needed by the poultry yard. The dwelling was fragrant with those good odors emitted from the learned manipulations of Neb and the reporter; but not all of the products of the marsh hunt were transformed into preserves and since the game kept well in this intense frost, the wild ducks and others were eaten fresh and declared superior to all other waterfowl of the known world.

During this week, Pencroff, aided by Herbert who skillfully handled the sailmaker’s needle, worked with such ardor that the boat’s sails were completed. There was no lack of hemp cord, thanks to the rigging which had been recovered from the balloon. The cables and the cordage of the net made excellent rope which the sailor put to good use. The sails had their edges stitched with strong bolt-ropes, but there still remained enough to make halyards, shrouds, sheets, etc. As to the tackles, Cyrus Smith fabricated the necessary pulleys by means of a lathe that he had made with Pencroff’s counsel. And so it happened that the rigging was completely ready before the boat was finished. Pencroff even made a red, white, and blue flag whose colors had been furnished by tinctorial plants which were very abundant on the island. Except that instead of the thirty seven stars representing the thirty seven states of the union which shine from the flags of American yachts, the sailor had added a thirty eighth, the star of “Lincoln State,” because he considered his island already a part of the great republic.

“And” said he, “it is so in heart if still not in fact.”

While waiting, the flag was unfurled at the main window of Granite House and the colonists saluted it with three hurrahs.

However they were approaching the end of the cold season and it seemed that this second winter would pass without any serious incident when, during the night of the 11th of August, Grand View Plateau was threatened with complete devastation.

After a very full day the colonists were in a deep sleep when about four o’clock in the morning they were suddenly awakened by Top’s barks.

This time the dog was not barking near the orifice of the well but at the threshold of the door and he threw himself upon it as if he wanted to push it open. Jup, on his part, uttered sharp cries.

“Well, Top!” shouted Neb, who was the first to awaken.

But the dog continued to bark more furiously.

“What is it?” asked Cyrus Smith.

And everyone, hurriedly dressing, ran toward the room’s windows which they opened.

Below was a layer of snow which barely appeared white on this very obscure night. The colonists saw nothing but they heard strange barks which burst out from the darkness. It was evident that the shore had been invaded by a certain number of animals that they could not make out.

“What are they?” shouted Pencroff.

“Wolves, jaguars, or apes!” replied Neb.

“The devil! But they can get to the top of the plateau,” said the reporter.

“And our poultry yard,” shouted Herbert, “and our plantations...”

“How did they get through?” asked Pencroff.

“They had to cross the bridge on the shore,” replied the engineer, “that one of us had forgotten to close.”

“In fact,” said Spilett, “I remember having left it open...”

“A fine thing you did there, Mister Spilett,” shouted the sailor.

“What is done is done,” replied Cyrus Smith. “What shall we do now?”

Such were the questions and answers which were rapidly exchanged between Cyrus Smith and his companions. It was certain that the bridge had been crossed, that the beach had been invaded by some animals, and that they, whatever they were, could ascend the left bank of the Mercy to reach Grand View Plateau. They must therefore hurry to fight them if need be.

“But what kind of animals are they?” Pencroff asked a second time just as the barks became louder.

These barks made Herbert shudder and he remembered having already heard them during his first visit to the sources of Red Creek.

“They are colpeos, they are foxes,” he said.

“Forward,” shouted the sailor.

And everyone, armed with axes, carbines and revolvers, threw themselves into the car of the elevator and set foot on the beach.

These colpeos are dangerous animals when there are many of them and they are provoked by hunger. Nevertheless the colonists did not hesitate to throw themselves into the midst of the band and their first revolver shots, lighting up the darkness, threw back the leading assailants.

It was important above all else, that they prevent these plunderers from reaching Grand View Plateau because the plantations and the poultry yard were at their mercy and immense damage, perhaps irreparable, would inevitably result especially to the cornfield. But since the invasion of the plateau could only be accomplished by passing on the left bank of the Mercy, it was sufficient to oppose the colpeos with an insurmountable barrier on this narrow section of the beach between the river and the granite wall. That was everyone’s opinion and upon Cyrus Smith’s order they reached the designated place while the colpeos were dashing about in the dark.

Cyrus Smith, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, Pencroff and Neb positioned themselves so as to form an uncrossable line. Top, with open jaws, preceded the colonists and he was followed by Jup, armed with a knotty cudgel, which he swung like a club.

It was very dark. It was only by the light of everyone’s firings that they could see the assailants. There were at least a hundred of them and their eyes shone like hot coals.

“They must not pass,” shouted Pencroff.

“They shall not pass,” replied the engineer.

But if they did not pass, it was not because they did not try. Those to the rear pushed against those in front and it was an incessant battle with revolver shots and axes. Many of the colpeos’ cadavers were already scattered on the ground, but the band did not seem to diminish. Others renewed their ranks by crossing the bridge on the shore.

Soon the colonists were forced to fight hand to hand not without receiving some wounds, light ones fortunately. Herbert, with a gunshot, got rid of a colpeo on Neb’s back who was fighting like a tigercat. Top was fighting furiously, lunging at the throats of the foxes and strangling them. Jup, armed with his club, was banging with all his might, and it was in vain that they tried to make him stay to the rear. Endowed doubtless with a vision that permitted him to pierce the darkness, he was always in the thickest part of the battle, uttering from time to time a sharp cry which for him was a sign of extreme jubilation. At one point he advanced so far that, from the light of a revolver, they could see him surrounded by five or six colpeos. He held up with coolness.

However the battle ended to the colonist’s advantage, but after they had fought for two long hours! The first rays of dawn doubtless made the assailants decide to retreat. They scampered off toward the north passing over the bridge which Neb immediately raised.

When day lighted up the field of battle, the colonists could count fifty bodies scattered on the beach.

“And Jup!” shouted Pencroff. “Where is Jup?”

Jup had disappeared. His friend Neb called him and for the first time Jup did not respond to his friend’s call.

Everyone set out to look for Jup, trembling that they might find him among the dead. They cleared away the bodies which stained the snow with their blood, and Jup was found in the midst of a veritable pile of colpeos whose jaws had been smashed and whose backs had been broken, bearing testimony that they had had to deal with the terrible cudgel of the fearless animal. Poor Jup still had his hand on the stump of his broken club; but deprived of his weapon, he had been overwhelmed by their numbers and his chest received deep wounds.

“He is alive!” shouted Neb, who leaned over him.

“And we will save him,” replied the sailor, “we will nurse him as if he were one of us!”

It seemed that Jup understood because he inclined his head on Pencroff’s shoulder as if to thank him. The sailor himself was wounded but these wounds, as well as those of his companions, were insignificant. Thanks to their guns, they had almost always kept their assailants at a distance. It was not so with the orang whose condition was serious.

Jup, carried by Neb and Pencroff, was brought to the elevator and it was with difficulty that a feeble groan left his lips. They lifted him gently to Granite House. There he was placed on a borrowed mattress on one of the bunks and his wounds were washed with the greatest care. It appeared that the wounds had not reached any vital organ but Jup was weak from the loss of blood and his fever was rather high.

They put him to bed after dressing his wounds and a severe diet was imposed on him “just like a real person,” as Neb said, and they made him drink a few cups of a refreshing infusion whose ingredients were furnished by the vegetable pharmacy of Granite House.

At first Jup’s sleep was agitated, but little by little his breathing became more regular and they let him sleep quietly. From time to time Top came in “on tip toe” so to speak, to visit his friend and he seemed to approve of all the attention that was lavished upon him. One of Jup’s hands hung outside the bed and Top licked it humbly.

Top came to visit his friend.

That same morning they proceeded to bury the dead who were dragged up to the forest of the Far West and interred.

This attack, which might have had serious consequences, was a lesson for the colonists and henceforth they did not go to sleep without one of them being sure that all the bridges were raised and that no invasion was possible.

However Jup, after having given them some serious fears for a few days, made a vigorous comeback. His constitution prevailed, the fever went down little by little and Gideon Spilett, who was something of a doctor, soon considered the difficulty over. On the 16th of August Jup began to eat. Neb made sweet dainty dishes for him which the patient tasted sensually because, if he had a pet fault, it was that he was a bit of a gourmand and Neb had never tried to correct him from this fault.

“What do you want?” he said to Gideon Spilett, who reproached him several times for spoiling him. “He has no other pleasure than that of his mouth, poor Jup, and I am very happy to be able to recognize his services in this way.”

Ten days after having taken to bed, on the 21st of August, Jup got up. His wounds were healed and they could well see that he would not be long in recovering his suppleness and his usual vigor. Like all convalescents, he was then consumed by a devouring hunger and the reporter let him eat whatever his heart desired because he trusted this instinct which is very often lacking in rational beings and which would protect the orang from any excess. Neb was overjoyed to see his pupil’s appetite return.

“Eat, my Jup,” he said to him, “and want for nothing. You have shed your blood for us and the least I can do is to help you recover.”

Finally on the 25th of August they heard Neb calling his companions.

“Mister Cyrus, Mister Gideon, Mister Herbert, Pencroff, come! Come!”

The colonists, gathered in the large hall, got up at the call of Neb, who was then in the room reserved for Jup.

“What is it?” asked the reporter.

“Look!” replied Neb, bursting into laughter.

And what did they see? Master Jup smoking tranquilly and seriously, squatting like a Turk by the door of Granite House.

“My pipe!” shouted Pencroff. “He has taken my pipe! Ah! My brave Jup, I give it to you as a present. Smoke, my friend, smoke!”

And Jup seriously emitted thick puffs of smoke and seemed to be getting unlimited joy.

Cyrus Smith showed no astonishment about this incident and he cited several examples of tame apes who had become familiar with the use of tobacco.

But from this day on, Master Jup had a pipe of his own, the sailor’s ex-pipe, which hung in his room near a supply of tobacco. He filled it himself, lit it with a burning coal and appeared to be the happiest of quadrumanes. One could well believe that this common interest could only tighten the bonds of close friendship that already united the worthy ape and the honest sailor.

“Perhaps he is a man?” Pencroff sometimes said to Neb. “Would it astonish you if one day he spoke to us?”

“My word, no,” replied Neb. “What astonishes me is that he hasn’t already spoken because all he lacks is speech.”

“It would amuse me all the same,” said the sailor, “if one fine day he said to me, ‘suppose we change pipes, Pencroff.’”

“Yes,” replied Neb, “What a pity he was born mute.”

With the month of September the winter was completely over and activities were resumed with zest.

The construction of the boat advanced rapidly. It was already completely decked and structured on the inside so as to bind together all the parts of the hull with a framework made pliable with steam. This would take up the slack of dimensional tolerances.

Since there was no lack of wood, Pencroff proposed to the engineer that they build a double hull on the inside with a watertight inner planking which would completely assure the strength of the boat.

Cyrus Smith, not knowing what the future had in store, approved the sailor’s idea of making the boat as strong as possible.

The inner planking and the bridge of the boat were completely finished around the 15th of September. To caulk the seams, they packed them with dry seaweed, which was hammered in between the planking of the hull, the inner planking and the bridge; then these seams were covered with boiling tar which had been abundantly furnished by the pines of the forest.

The fitting of the boat was very simple. First it was ballasted with heavy pieces of granite cemented in a bed of lime. They stowed away about twelve thousand pounds of this. A deck was placed above this ballast and the interior was divided into two rooms, with two benches extending along its length to serve as chests. The foot of the mast supported the partition which separated the two rooms, with access to the bridge through two hatchways provided with canopies.

Pencroff had no trouble in finding a tree suitable for the mast. He chose a young fir, very straight and without knots, which he squared at the base and rounded at the top. The ironwork for the mast, the rudder and the hull had been crudely but firmly made on the forge at the Chimneys. Finally yards, topmast, boom, spars, oars, etc., all was finished in the first week of October and it was agreed that they would make a trial run of the boat in the coastal waters of the island in order to know how well it took to the sea and to what degree they could depend on it.

During all this time, other work had not been neglected. The corral was rearranged because the flock of sheep and goats counted a certain number of young which had to be lodged and nourished. The colonists did not fail to visit the oyster bed, nor the warren, nor the coal and iron beds, nor several still unexplored parts of the forests of the Far West which were very full of game.

Certain indigenous plants were also discovered and if they did not have any immediate use, they still would contribute to a diversification of the vegetable reserves of Granite House. One was a species of Hottentot’s fig, resembling those of Capetown, with fleshy edible leaves. Another produced seeds which contained a sort of flour.

On the 10th of October, the boat was launched. Pencroff was radiant. The operation succeeded perfectly. The fully rigged boat was pushed on rollers to the edge of the shore and was lifted by the rising tide to the applauds of the colonists, especially Pencroff who showed no modesty on this occasion. Moreover, his vanity would outlast the completion of the boat since, after having constructed it, he would be called upon to command it. The grade of captain was awarded by common agreement.

On the 10th of October, the boat was launched.

To satisfy Captain Pencroff, it was first necessary to give the boat a name and after several proposals discussed at length, the voters agreed on that of Bonadventure which was the baptismal name of the honest sailor.

As soon as the Bonadventure was lifted by the rising tide, they could see that it would be perfectly seaworthy and that it would be easy to navigate at all speeds.

All that was left was to give it a try on that very day, with an excursion off the coast. The weather was beautiful, the breeze fresh and the sea smooth, especially off the southern shore where the wind had already been blowing for an hour.

“Get in! Get in!” shouted Captain Pencroff.

But they had to eat before leaving and it even seemed best to carry some provisions on board in case the excursion was prolonged until evening.

Cyrus Smith was also in a hurry to try out the boat since the plans had originated with him although, on the sailor’s advice, he had often modified some parts; but he did not have as much confidence in it as Pencroff did, and since the latter no longer spoke of the voyage to Tabor Island, Cyrus Smith hoped that the sailor had forgotten it. He was reluctant in fact, to see two or three of his companions venture so far in this small boat which did not displace more than fifteen tons.

At ten thirty everyone was on board, even Jup and Top. Neb and Herbert raised the anchor which was buried in the sand near the mouth of the Mercy, the spanker sail was hoisted, the Lincolnian flag waved at the top of the mast, and the Bonadventure commanded by Pencroff, took to the open sea.

In order to leave Union Bay it was first necessary to sail before the wind and they could see that under this situation the speed of the vessel was satisfactory.

After having doubled Flotsam Point and Cape Claw, Pencroff had to sail close to the wind in order to coast along the southern shore of the island. After navigating by a series of tacks, he saw that the Bonadventure could sail at about five points from the wind and that it could suitably hold itself against the drift. It tacked very well, having “the knack” as the sailors would say, and its tacking even deserved praise.

The passengers of the Bonadventure were truly enchanted. They had here a good boat which could given them good service if need be. With this fine weather and good breeze, the excursion was charming.

Pencroff went out to three or four miles from shore on the way to Port Balloon. The island then appeared in all its development and under a new aspect, with the varied panorama of its shore from Cape Claw to Reptile Promontory, with the nearest part of the forest in which the green conifers stood out from the other trees whose young foliage was barely blooming, and with Mount Franklin, which dominated it all, with white snow at the top.

“It is beautiful,” cried Herbert.

“Yes, our island is beautiful and good,” replied Pencroff. “I love it like I love my poor mother. It received us, poor and lacking everything, and what is lacking now to the five children who fell on it from the sky?”

“Nothing,” replied Neb, “Nothing, Captain!”

And the two worthy gentlemen gave three formidable hurrahs in honor of their island.

During this time, Gideon Spilett, leaning against the mast, was drawing the panorama which developed before his eyes.

Cyrus Smith looked in silence.

“Well, Mister Cyrus,” asked Pencroff, “what do you think of our boat?”

“She seems to conduct herself well,” replied the engineer.

“Good! And do you think that at this time it could undertake a voyage of some duration?”

“What voyage, Pencroff?”

“To Tabor Island, for example.”

“My friend,” replied Cyrus Smith, “I believe that, if need be, we should not hesitate to put our trust in the Bonadventure, even for a longer trip; but as you know, it would pain me to see you leave for Tabor Island since nothing obliges you to go there.”

“Everyone likes to know his neighbors,” replied Pencroff stubbornly. “Tabor Island is our neighbor and it is the only one! Politeness requires that we go there, at least to pay it a visit.”

“The devil,” said Gideon Spilett, “our friend Pencroff is so proper.”

“I am not proper about anything,” retorted the sailor, a bit vexed by the engineer’s opposition but not wishing to cause him any pain.

“Think, Pencroff,” replied Cyrus Smith, “that you cannot go to Tabor Island alone.”

“One companion will be sufficient.”

“So be it,” replied the engineer. “That means that you will risk depriving the Lincoln Island colony of two colonists out of five.”

“Out of six!” replied Pencroff. “You forget Jup.”

“Out of seven!” added Neb. “Top is another worthy member.”

“There is no risk, Mister Cyrus,” replied Pencroff.

“That is possible, Pencroff; but I repeat to you that we will expose ourselves without necessity.”

The stubborn sailor did not reply and dropped the conversation deciding to pick it up again later. But he hardly suspected that an incident would come to help him and to change into an act of humanity what was after all a debatable caprice.

In fact, after having been out at a distance, the Bonadventure approached the shore sailing toward Port Balloon. It was important to note the channels among the banks of sand and reefs so as to put down beacons if need be, since this small inlet would be the boat’s official port.

They were only a half mile from the coast and it was necessary to tack to make headway against the wind. The speed of the Bonadventure was then only moderate because the breeze, partly hindered by the high land, hardly filled the sails, and the sea, smooth as ice, only rippled to an occasional wind.

Herbert had stationed himself up front in order to indicate the route to follow among the channels when all of a sudden he shouted:

“Luff, Pencroff, luff.”

“Luff, Pencroff, luff,” said Herbert.

“What is it?” replied the sailor, getting up. “A rock?”

“No... wait,” said Herbert... “I do not see well... luff again... good ... over a little...”

And saying this Herbert, leaning over the edge, quickly plunged his arms into the water and then got up saying:

“A bottle!”

He held in his hand a closed bottle which he had seized a few cables from shore.

Cyrus Smith took the bottle. Without saying a single word, he smashed the cork and took out a wet paper from which he read these words:

“Castaway... Tabor Island: 153° W. Long.—37° 11′ Lat. S.”

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Abandoned

Chapter XIII

Departure decided—Hypothesis—Preparations—The three passengers—First night—Second night—Tabor Island—Search on the shore—Search in the woods—No one—Animals—Plants—A dwelling—Deserted.

“A CASTAWAY!” shouted Pencroff, “Abandoned a few hundred miles from us on this Tabor Island! Ah Mister Cyrus, now you will no longer oppose my proposed trip!”

“No, Pencroff,” replied Cyrus Smith, “and you will leave as soon as possible.”

“As soon as tomorrow?”

“As soon as tomorrow.”

The engineer held in his hand the paper which he had taken from the bottle. He meditated for a few moments, then spoke again:

“From this document, my friends,” he said, “and from the very form in which it is composed, we must first conclude this: It is first, that the castaway of Tabor Island is a man having a rather advanced knowledge of navigation, since he gives the latitude and the longitude of the island, confirming to what we have found, and to within a minute of approximation: Second, that he is English or American since the document is written in the English language.”

“That is perfectly logical,” replied Gideon Spilett, “and the presence of this castaway explains the arrival of the case on the shores of our island. There has been a wreck since there is a castaway. As to the latter, whoever he is, it is a lucky thing for him that Pencroff had the idea of constructing this boat and of trying it out this very day because one day later and this bottle would have broken on the reefs.”

“In fact,” said Herbert, “it is a happy chance that the Bonadventure has passed here while the bottle was still floating.”

“And doesn’t that seem strange to you,” Cyrus Smith asked Pencroff.

“It seems fortunate to me, that is all,” replied the sailor. “Do you see something extraordinary in this, Mister Cyrus? This bottle had to go someplace and why not here as well as any place else?”

“Perhaps you are right, Pencroff,” replied the engineer, “and yet...”

“But,” noted Herbert, “there’s nothing to prove that this bottle has been floating long in the sea.”

“Nothing,” replied Gideon Spilett, “and the document itself appears to have been recently written. What do you think, Cyrus?”

“That is difficult to verify and besides we will know,” replied Cyrus Smith.

During this conversation Pencroff had not remained inactive. He had turned the boat around, and the Bonadventure cast off, all sails hoisted, rapidly running toward Cape Claw. Everyone was thinking of this castaway from Tabor Island. Was there still time to save him? This was an important event in the life of the colonists. Even they themselves were castaways but they feared that someone else might not have been as lucky as they and their duty was to run to the unfortunate. Cape Claw was doubled and the Bonadventure was anchored about four o’clock at the mouth of the Mercy.

That very evening the details relative to the new expedition were settled. It appeared expedient that Pencroff and Herbert, who knew how to handle a boat, would undertake this voyage by themselves. By leaving the next day, the 11th of October, they could arrive on the 13th during the day because, with the prevailing wind, not more than forty eight hours were needed to make this crossing of one hundred fifty miles. A day on the island, three or four days to return, they could then count on returning to Lincoln Island by the 17th. The weather was fine, the barometer was rising without shocks, the winds seemed steady. Everything then favored these brave men who were being taken so far from their island by the duties of humanity.

So then, it had been agreed that Cyrus Smith, Neb, and Gideon Spilett would remain at Granite House; but a protest was lodged and Gideon Spilett, not forgetting his duties as a reporter for the New York Herald, having declared that he would rather swim than miss such an occasion, he was admitted to take part in the voyage.

The evening was employed in transporting on board the Bonadventure several objects of bedding, utensils, arms, munitions, a compass, and provisions needed for a journey of eight days, and this loading being quickly accomplished, the colonists went back to Granite House.

The next day, at five o’clock in the morning, they said their goodbyes, not without a certain emotion on everyone’s part, and Pencroff, filling the sails, went toward Cape Claw which he had to double in order to then take a direct southwest route.

The Bonadventure was already a quarter of a mile from the coast when its passengers saw on the heights of Granite House two men making a sign of goodbye. They were Cyrus Smith and Neb.

They were Cyrus Smith and Neb.

“Our friends,” shouted Gideon Spilett. “This is our first separation in eighteen months!...”

Pencroff, the reporter, and Herbert made a final sign of goodbye and Granite House soon disappeared behind the high rocks of the cape.

During the first hours of the day the Bonadventure remained continually in view of the southern coast of Lincoln Island which soon appeared in the form of a wide green basket from which Mount Franklin emerged. The heights, diminished by the distance, gave it an appearance not likely to attract vessels to its shores.

Reptile Promontory was passed at about one o’clock but at ten miles out. At this distance it was no longer possible to distinguish anything on the western coast which extended up to the top of Mount Franklin and three hours later all that was Lincoln Island had disappeared below the horizon.

The Bonadventure conducted itself perfectly. It rose easily with the waves and moved rapidly. Pencroff had rigged his topmast and having everything hoisted he sailed in a straight direction guided by the compass.

From time to time Herbert took his turn at the helm and the lad’s hand was so firm that the sailor could find no error to reproach him with.

Gideon Spilett chatted with one, with the other and, when it was necessary, he took his turn at the helm. Captain Pencroff was absolutely satisfied with his crew and spoke of rewarding them with nothing less than “a quart of wine with which to go on a spree!”

At sunset the crescent of the moon, which would not be in the first quarter until the 16th, appeared in the twilight and soon disappeared. The night was dark but full of stars which promised a fine day for the morrow.

Pencroff prudently lowered the topmast not wanting to be surprised by some gust of wind with a sail at the top of the mast. It was perhaps too much caution on so calm a night, but Pencroff was a prudent sailor and one could not blame him.

The reporter slept a part of the night. Pencroff and Herbert took turns at the helm every two hours. The sailor trusted Herbert as he would himself and his confidence was justified by the coolness and intelligence of the lad. Pencroff gave him directions like a commander to his helmsman and Herbert did not allow the Bonadventure to deviate a line.

The night passed well and the day of October 12th passed under the same conditions. The southwesterly direction was strictly maintained during the entire day and if the Bonadventure was not subjected to some unknown current, Tabor Island would be in its path.

As to the sea in which the boat was then sailing it was absolutely deserted. At times some large bird, an albatross or a frigate, passed within gun range and Gideon Spilett asked himself if one of these powerful flyers was not the one to whom he had confined his last dispatch addressed to the New York Herald. These birds appeared to be the only ones frequenting this part of the ocean between Tabor Island and Lincoln Island.

“However,” Herbert noted, “this is the season when the whalers ordinarily head toward the southern part of the Pacific. In truth, I do not believe that there is a more deserted sea than this one!”

“It is not as deserted as all that,” replied Pencroff.

“What do you mean by that?” asked the reporter.

“But we are here! Do you take our boat for a wreck and us for porpoises.”

And Pencroff laughed at his joke.

By evening, according to their estimate, they reckoned that the Bonadventure had covered a distance of one hundred twenty miles since its departure from Lincoln Island, that is to say in thirty six hours which gave a speed of three and a third miles per hour. The breeze was weak and tended to become calmer. Nevertheless they could hope that the next day, at daybreak, if the estimate was correct and the direction had been true, they would sight Tabor Island.

Neither Gideon Spilett, nor Herbert, nor Pencroff slept during this night of the 12th to the 13th of October. During this wait for the next day, they could not restrain their emotions. There was so much uncertainty in this enterprise that they had attempted. Were they near Tabor Island? Was the island still inhabited by this castaway to whose rescue they were coming? Who was this man? Wouldn’t his presence bring trouble to the small colony so united until then? Besides, would he consent to change his prison for another? All these questions, which would doubtless be answered the next day, kept them awake and at the first rays of dawn they cast their glances on all points of the western horizon.

“Land!” shouted Pencroff about six o’clock in the morning.

“Land!” shouted Pencroff.

And since it was inadmissible that Pencroff was mistaken, it was evident that land was there.

One can judge the joy of the small crew of the Bonadventure. In a few hours they would be on the shore of the island.

Tabor Island had a low coast, hardly emerging from the waves. It was not more than fifteen miles away. The bow of the Bonadventure, which was a little to the south of the island, was put in direct line with it and as the sun rose in the east, several high points appeared here and there.

“This island is much less important than Lincoln Island,” Herbert noted, “and like it, it probably resulted from some submarine convulsion.”

At eleven o’clock in the morning the Bonadventure was only two miles away and Pencroff, looking for a passage to shore, sailed very prudently through these unknown waters.

Their view then embraced the entire islet. Clusters of verdant gum trees and other large trees of the kind that grew on Lincoln Island, stood out. But the thing that was astonishing was that there was no rising smoke to indicate that the islet was inhabited. No signal appeared at any point whatsoever of the shore.

And yet the document had been precise: there was a castaway there and the castaway should have been on the watch.

Nevertheless the Bonadventure ventured among the rather capricious passes through the reefs. Pencroff paid careful attention to the least meandering. He placed Herbert at the helm, and posted in front, he examined the water, halyard in hand, ready to drop sail. Gideon Spilett swept his eyes over the shore with the telescope but saw nothing.

Finally, about noon, the keel of the Bonadventure struck the sandy beach. The anchor was thrown out, the sails lowered, and the crew of the small boat set foot on land.

And there was no doubt that this was really Tabor Island since, according to the most recent maps, no other island existed in this portion of the Pacific between New Zealand and the American Coast.

The boat was firmly moored so that the ebbing tide could not carry it off; then Pencroff and his two companions, well armed, went up the shore in order to get to a kind of cone, two hundred fifty to three hundred feet high, which rose a half mile away.

“From the top of this hill,” said Gideon Spilett, “we will doubtless have a bird’s eye view of the islet, which will facilitate our search.”

“Which is what Mister Cyrus first did on Lincoln Island,” said Herbert, “by climbing Mount Franklin.”

“Exactly,” replied the reporter, “and it is the best way to proceed.”

While chatting the explorers advanced, following the edge of a prairie which ended at the very foot of the cone. Bands of rock pigeons and sea swallows, resembling those of Lincoln Island, flew before them. Under the woods which lined the prairie on the left, they heard rustlings in the brushwood and caught glimpses of movement in the grass which indicated the presence of fleeing animals; but nothing until then indicated that the islet was inhabited.

Arriving at the foot of the cone, Pencroff, Herbert and Gideon Spilett climbed it and in a few moments their gaze surveyed the various points on the horizon.

It was really an islet which did not measure more than six miles all around. Its perimeter was barely fringed by any capes or promontories, or any coves or creeks. It presented the form of an elongated oval. All around was the absolutely deserted sea extending to the limits of the horizon. There was no land nor any sail in view.

This islet, wooded over all its surface, did not offer the diversity of Lincoln Island, arid and wild on one part but fertile and rich on the other. Here it was a uniform mass of verdure dominated by two or three slightly elevated hills. Oblique to the oval of the islet a creek flowed across a large prairie, reaching the sea on the western coast through a narrow mouth.

“The domain is limited,” said Herbert.

“Yes,” replied Pencroff, “it would have been a little small for us.”

“And what’s more,” replied the reporter, “it seems uninhabited.”

“In fact,” replied Herbert, “nothing reveals the presence of man.”

“Let us descend,” said Pencroff, “and let us search.”

The sailor and his two companions returned to the shore where they had left the Bonadventure. They decided to walk around the islet before venturing into the interior so that no point would escape their attention.

The shore was easy to follow except for a few places blocked by large rocks which they easily went around. The explorers went southward causing the flight of numerous waterfowl and seals who dashed into the water when they saw them from afar.

“These animals,” the reporter noted, “do not see men for the first time. They fear them, therefore they know them.”

An hour after their departure, all three arrived at the southern point of the islet, terminated by a sharp cape, and they ascended toward the north, walking along the western shore which was also made up of sand and rocks with thick woods bordering to the rear.

Nowhere was there any trace of a dwelling, nowhere a human footprint all around the perimeter of the island which they had covered in four hours.

This was at the least very extraordinary and they were compelled to believe that Tabor Island was not or was no longer inhabited. Perhaps, after all, the document was already several months or several years old and in that event it was possible that the castaway had been repatriated or had died of misery.

Pencroff, Gideon Spilett and Herbert, forming more or less plausible hypotheses, dined rapidly on board the Bonadventure so as to be able to continue their excursion until evening.

It was five o’clock in the evening when they ventured into the woods.

Numerous animals fled at their approach, principally, they could even say only, goats and pigs which, it was easy to see, were of the European species. Doubtless some whaler had landed them on the island where they rapidly multiplied. Herbert promised himself that he would capture one or two living couples in order to bring them to Lincoln Island.

There was then no longer any doubt that men at some time had visited this islet. And this appeared to be still more evident when, on crossing the forest, they saw traces of footpaths, of tree trunks felled with an axe, and everywhere the mark of the human hand; but these trees, which were rotting, had been cut down several years ago, the notches made by the axe were velvety with moss, and long thick grass overran the footpaths which were difficult to recognize.

“But,” noted Gideon Spilett, “this proves that men not only landed on this islet, but that they lived here for a certain period of time. Now, who were these men? How many were there? How many are left?”

“The document,” said Herbert, “spoke only of a single castaway.”

“Well, if he is still on the island,” replied Pencroff, “it is impossible that we will not find him.”

The exploration was therefore continued. The sailor and his companions followed naturally the route that cut diagonally across the islet. They then found themselves walking along the creek that ran to the sea.

If the animals of European origin and the works of the human hand proved incontestably that man had already come to this islet, several specimens from the vegetable kingdom proved it no less. In certain places among clearings, they saw that the land had been cultivated with garden vegetables at some rather distant time.

What was Herbert’s joy when he recognized potatoes, chicory, sorrel, carrots, cabbage, and turnips. It was sufficient to collect the seeds so as to enrich the soil of Lincoln Island.

“Good, well done!” replied Pencroff. “This will be a happy affair for Neb and ourselves. If we do not find the castaway at least our voyage will not have been in vain, and God will have rewarded us.”

“Doubtless,” replied Gideon Spilett, “but to look at the state in which we find these plantations, one is led to believe that the islet has not been inhabited for a long time.”

“In fact,” replied Herbert, “an inhabitant, whoever he was, would not have neglected so important a culture.”

“Yes,” said Pencroff, “the castaway has left!... We must assume that...”

“It must then be admitted that the document is already an old one?”

“Evidently.”

“And that this bottle arrived at Lincoln Island only after having floated on the sea for a long time?”

“Why not?” replied Pencroff. “But night is coming on,” he added, “and I think that it would be best to suspend our search.”

“Let us return on board and tomorrow we will begin again,” said the reporter.

This was very wise and the advice was about to be followed when Herbert, pointing to a confused mass among the trees, shouted:

“A dwelling!”

Herbert pointed among the trees to a dwelling.

All three went to the dwelling at once. In the twilight it was possible to see that it had been constructed of planks covered with a thick tar canvas.

The half closed door was pushed open by Pencroff, who quickly entered...

The dwelling was empty.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Abandoned

Chapter XIV

Inventory—Night—Some lettering—Continuing the search—Plants and animals—Herbert in great danger—On board—The departure—Bad weather—A glimmer of instinct—Lost at sea—A timely light.

PENCROFF, Herbert, and Gideon Spilett remained silent in the darkness.

Pencroff shouted.

There was no response.

The sailor then struck the flint and lit a twig. For an instant this light illuminated a small room which appeared to be absolutely abandoned. To the rear there was a crude fireplace with a few cold cinders supporting an armful of dry wood. Pencroff threw the burning twig on it, the wood crackled and gave a vivid flame.

The sailor and his two companions then saw an unmade bed, with wet and yellowish covers which proved that it had not been used for a long time; in a corner of the fireplace, two kettles covered with rust and an overturned pot; a wardrobe with a few half mildewy sailor’s clothes; on the table, tin kitchen utensils and a bible rotted by the dampness; in a corner, some tools, a shovel, a pickaxe, a pick, two hunting guns one of which was broken; on a raised platform, a still intact barrel of powder, a barrel of shot and several boxes of primers; all covered with a thick layer of dust which had perhaps accumulated over long years.

“There is no one here,” said the reporter.

“No one,” replied Pencroff.

“It is a long time since this room has been occupied,” Herbert noted.

“Yes, a really long time!” replied the reporter.

“Mister Spilett,” Pencroff then said, “instead of returning on board, I think that it would be best to pass the night in this dwelling.”

“You are right, Pencroff,” replied Gideon Spilett, “and if its owner returns, well! Perhaps he will not be pleased to find the place taken over.”

“He will not return!” said the sailor, shaking his head.

“You believe that he has left the island?” asked the reporter.

“If he has left the island, he would have taken his arms and his tools,” replied Pencroff. “You know the value that castaways attach to these things, which are the last remains from a wreck. No! No!,” repeated the sailor convincingly, “No!, he has not left the island. If he had rescued himself with a boat that he made he would still not have left behind these things of prime necessity. No, he is on the island!”

“Living?...” asked Herbert.

“Living or dead. But if he is dead, I suppose he has not buried himself,” replied Pencroff, “and we will at least find his remains.”

It was then agreed that they would pass the night in the abandoned dwelling. A supply of wood found in a corner provided sufficient warmth. The door closed, Pencroff, Herbert and Gideon Spilett, seated on a bench, stayed there, speaking little and thinking. They were in a frame of mind to imagine anything. While waiting they listened carefully to outside noises. If the door were to suddenly open and if a man should present himself to them, it would not have surprised them in spite of everything that showed the dwelling to be abandoned. Their hands were ready to clasp the hands of this man, this castaway, this unknown friend whose friends were waiting.

But no noise was heard, the door did not open and so the hours passed.

How long this night seemed to the sailor and his two companions! Herbert alone slept for two hours because at his age sleep is a necessity. All three were in a hurry to continue the previous day’s exploration and to search the most secret corners of the islet. The conclusions reached by Pencroff were absolutely justified and it was nearly certain that since the house was abandoned and the tools, utensils and arms were still there, that its host had succumbed. It was therefore agreed to look for his remains and at least give them a Christian burial.

Day appeared. Pencroff and his companions immediately proceeded to examine the dwelling.

It had really been built in a good location atop a small hill on which five or six magnificent gum trees grew. In front, across the trees, a large clearing had been made with the axe, which allowed the view to extend over the sea. A small lawn, surrounded by a wooden fence fallen in ruin, led to the shore with the mouth of the creek to the left.

This dwelling had been constructed of planks and it was easy to see that these planks came from the hull or the bridge of a vessel. It was therefore probable that a disabled ship had been thrown on the coast of the island, that at least one man of the crew had been saved and that by means of the debris from the vessel this man, having tools available, had constructed this dwelling. And this was even more evident when Gideon Spilett, after having gone around the dwelling, saw on a plank—probably one of those which formed the bulwark of the wrecked vessel—these letters already half defaced:

BR.TAN..A

“Britannia!” shouted Pencroff, after the reporter called him. “It is a very common name for vessels but I cannot say if it is English or American.”

“It is of little importance, Pencroff.”

“Of little importance, in fact,” replied the sailor, “and if the crew’s survivor still lives, we will save him regardless of his nationality. But before continuing our exploration, let us return on board the Bonadventure.”

A sort of uneasiness took hold of Pencroff on the subject of his boat. If perchance the islet was inhabited and if some inhabitant took possession... but he shrugged his shoulders at such an unlikely supposition.

Still the sailor was not sorry to go to dine on board. The route, already traced out, was not long, hardly a mile. They got back on the road again, all the while looking carefully at the woods and the underbrush from which the goats and the pigs fled by the hundreds.

Twenty minutes after having left the dwelling, Pencroff and his companions again saw the eastern shore of the island and the Bonadventure, held by its anchor which was buried deep in the sand.

Pencroff could not hold back a sigh of satisfaction. After all, this boat was his child and fathers have the right to be uneasy more often than to be reasonable.

They came on board and dined so that there would be no need to eat again until much later; then, the meal finished, the exploration was resumed with the most minute care.

In short, it was very probable that the sole inhabitant of the islet had succumbed. It was for a dead person rather than a living one that Pencroff and his companions were searching. But their search was in vain and for half a day they looked uselessly among the massive woods that covered the islet. They had to admit that if the castaway was dead, there no longer remained any trace of his body and that doubtless some beast had devoured it down to the last bone.

“We will leave tomorrow at daybreak,” said Pencroff to his two companions who, at about two o’clock in the afternoon, were lying in the shadow of a cluster of pines in order to rest for a few moments.

“I believe that we can take with us, without any scruples, the utensils which belonged to the castaway,” added Herbert.

“I believe that too,” replied Gideon Spilett, “and these arms and tools will complement the materiel of Granite House. If I am not mistaken the supply of powder and shot is considerable.”

“Yes,” replied Pencroff, “but let us not forget to capture one or two couples of these pigs of which Lincoln Island is deprived...”

“Nor to collect these seeds,” added Herbert, “which will give us all the vegetables of the old and new worlds.”

“It would then perhaps be best to stay another day longer on Tabor Island,” said the reporter, “in order to collect everything that can be useful to us.”

“No, Mister Spilett,” replied Pencroff, “I will ask you to leave tomorrow at daybreak. The wind appears to me to have a tendency to change into a westerly and after having had a good wind for coming we will have a good wind for returning.”

“Then let us not lose any time!” said Herbert, getting up.

“Let us not lose any time,” replied Pencroff. “You, Herbert, collect the seeds which you know better than we. During this time, Mister Spilett and I will hunt for some pigs and even in Top’s absence, I dare say that we will succeed in capturing a few.”

Herbert took the footpath that would bring him to the cultivated part of the islet while the sailor and the reporter went directly into the forest.

Many specimens of the pig family fled from them and these animals, oddly agile, did not appear in a humor to be approached. However, after a half hour of pursuit, the hunters succeeded in getting hold of a couple who were hiding in a thick brushwood when some shouting resounded a few hundred feet away in the north of the islet. With these shouts were mingled some horrible hoarse sounds that had nothing human about them. Pencroff and Gideon Spilett stood up and the pigs profited from this movement by escaping just when the sailor was ready to tie them.

“That’s Herbert’s voice!” said the reporter.

“Run!” shouted Pencroff.

And soon the sailor and Gideon Spilett were running as fast as their limbs could carry them to the place where the shouting emanated.

They did well to hurry because, on making a turn in the footpath near a clearing, they saw the lad thrown to the ground by a savage being, a gigantic ape doubtless, who was about to harm him.

Hebert was thrown to the ground by a savage being.

To pounce upon this monster, throw him in turn to the ground, wrench Herbert from him and hold him down firmly was the work of an instant for Pencroff and Gideon Spilett. The sailor had a hurculean strength and the reporter was also robust and, in spite of the monster’s resistance, he was firmly tied down so that he could not move.

“You aren’t hurt, Herbert?” asked Gideon Spilett.

“No! No!”

“Ah! If this ape had hurt you!...” shouted Pencroff.

“But this not an ape!” replied Herbert.

At these words Pencroff and Gideon Spilett looked at this strange being who lay on the ground.

In truth, it was not an ape! It was a human creature. It was a man! But what a man. A savage in all the horrible meaning of the word, and what was even more dreadful was that he seemed to have fallen into the last stages of brutishness.

With a bristling head of hair, an unkempt beard that came down to his chest, an almost nude body except for a rag covering his privates, fierce eyes, enormous hands, long fingernails, skin as dark as mahogany, feet as hard as hoofs, such was the miserable creature that was nevertheless called a man. But they truly had the right to ask themselves if there still was a soul in this body or if the vulgar instinct of the brute alone survived in him.

“Are you sure that this is a man or that he once was that?” Pencroff asked the reporter.

“Alas! There is no doubt of it,” replied the latter.

“Is this then the castaway?” asked Herbert.

“Yes,” replied Gideon Spilett, “but the unfortunate no longer has anything human about him.”

The reporter spoke the truth. It was evident that if the castaway had ever been a civilized being, loneliness had made him a savage and perhaps worse, a veritable man of the woods. Hoarse sounds issued from his throat and from his teeth which had the shrillness of carnivore’s teeth intended for the chewing of raw meat. Memory had abandoned him long ago and it doubtless was a long time since he had used tools, arms, or made a fire. One could see that he was nimble and agile but all the physical faculties had developed in him to the detriment of the moral qualities.

Gideon Spilett spoke to him. He did not seem to understand nor even to hear... And yet, upon looking into his eyes, the reporter felt that all reason was not extinguished within him.

However, the prisoner did not struggle nor did he try to break his bonds. Was he crushed by the presence of these men whose fellows he had once been? Did some fleeting memory of humanity return to a corner of his brain? If freed would he try to escape or would he remain? They did not know but they did not make the test and after having looked the wretched person over carefully:

“Whatever he is,” said Gideon Spilett, “and whatever he has been and whatever will become of him, it is our duty to take him with us to Lincoln Island.”

“Yes! Yes!” replied Herbert, “and perhaps, with attention, we will be able to awaken some glimmer of intelligence in him.”

“The soul is not dead,” said the reporter, “and it will be a great satisfaction to save this creature of God from brutishness.”

Pencroff shook his head doubtfully.

“We ought to try it in any case,” replied the reporter. “Humanity requires it of us.”

It was, in fact, their duty as civilized beings and Christians. The three of them understood this and they well knew that Cyrus Smith would approve of their action.

“Shall we keep him tied?” asked the sailor.

“Perhaps he will walk if we free his feet,” said Herbert.

“Let us try,” replied Pencroff.

The prisoner’s feet were freed but his hands remained firmly bound. He got up by himself but showed no desire to escape. His dry eyes darted a sharp look at the three men who walked beside him but nothing showed that he remembered that he was their fellow being or at least that he once was so. A hiss continued to escape from his lips. He looked fierce but he did not resist.

At the reporter’s suggestion, they brought the unfortunate to his dwelling. Perhaps the sight of those objects which belonged to him would make some impression on him. Perhaps it would act as a spark to revive his obscure thought, to illuminate his extinct soul.

The dwelling was not far. In a few minutes they all arrived there; but once there the prisoner recognized nothing and it seemed that he had lost awareness of all these things.

All they could say about this degree of brutishness was that his imprisonment on the islet was already of long duration and after having arrived there a rational person, loneliness had reduced him to this state.

The reporter then had the idea that the sight of fire might produce some reaction in him and in an instant one of the beautiful flames that even attract animals was lit in the fireplace.

The sight of the flame at first seemed to attract the attention of the unfortunate; but he soon drew back and his unconscious look turned elsewhere.

Evidently there was nothing more to do for the moment at least, except to return on board the Bonadventure, and that being done, he remained there in Pencroff’s custody.

Herbert and Gideon Spilett went back to the islet to finish their operations and a few hours later they returned to the shore carrying utensils and arms, a collection of vegetable seeds, some game and two couples of pigs. All went on board and the Bonadventure was made ready to raise anchor as soon as the next morning’s rising tide would be felt.

The prisoner had been placed in the forward cabin where he calmly remained, silent, insensible and mute.

Pencroff offered him food but he pushed away the cooked meat that was presented to him and which doubtless no longer suited him. And in fact, when the sailor showed him one of the ducks that Herbert had killed, he threw himself upon it like a beast and devoured it.

“You think he will recover?” asked Pencroff, shaking his head.

“Perhaps,” said the reporter, “it is not impossible that our attention will produce a reaction in him because it is loneliness that has make him what he is and henceforth he will no longer be alone.”

“It has doubtless been a long time that the poor man has been in this state,” said Herbert.

“Perhaps,” replied Gideon Spilett.

“How old could he be?” asked the lad.

“That is difficult to say,” replied the reporter, “because it is impossible to see his features under the thick beard which covers his face, but he is no longer young and I suppose he is at least fifty years old.”

“Have you noticed, Mister Spilett, how deeply set his eyes are?” asked the lad.

“Yes, Herbert, and I will add that they are more human than we had a right to expect from his appearance.”

“Well, we will see,” replied Pencroff, “and I am curious to know what Mister Smith will think of our savage. We went in search of a human creature and will return with a monster. Well, we did what we could.”

The night passed and they did not know whether or not the prisoner slept, but in any event, since he had been bound he did not stir. He was like a beast first overpowered by capture but who would go into a rage later.

At daybreak the next day—the 15th of October—the change in weather predicted by Pencroff took place. The wind, blowing northwest, favored the return of the Bonadventure; but at the same time it was a fresh breeze which would make navigation more difficult.

Anchor was weighed at five o’clock in the morning. Pencroff took in a reef in his large sail and put the bow to east northeast to sail directly toward Lincoln Island.

The first day’s passage was not marked by any incident. The prisoner remained calm in the forward cabin and since he had been a sailor, it seemed that the motion of the sea produced a beneficial reaction in him. Did some memory of his former calling come back to him? In any case he remained calm, astonished rather than dejected.

The next day—the 16th of October—the wind blew much stronger and more from the north, and consequently from a direction less favorable to the Bonadventure which bounced on the waves. Pencroff soon sailed close to the wind and without saying anything, he began to become uneasy at the condition of the sea which foamed violently against the front of his boat. Certainly if the wind did not change it would take longer to reach Lincoln Island than it did to get to Tabor Island.

In fact on the morning of the 17th it was forty eight hours since the Bonadventure had left and nothing indicated that they were near the island. Moreover, it was impossible to determine where they were or to estimate it because the direction and the speed had been very irregular.

Twenty four hours later, there was still no land in sight. The wind was then directly ahead and the sea wretched. They had to quickly maneuver the sails of the boat which the waves of the sea covered in wide areas, taking in the reefs and often changing the tack. It even happened, on the 18th, that the Bonadventure was completely laid aback by a wave and if the passengers had not taken the precaution in advance of tying themselves to the bridge they would have been carried away.

On this occasion, Pencroff and his companions were very occupied in disentangling themselves. They received an unexpected assistance from the prisoner who ran up the hatchway, as if his sailor’s instinct had gained the upper hand, and broke an awning using a spar in order to allow for the quicker escape of the water which filled the bridge; then the boat disencumbered, he went down to his room without saying a word.

Pencroff, Gideon Spilett and Herbert, absolutely astonished, let him proceed.

However the situation was bad and the sailor had reason to believe that they were lost on this immense sea without any possibility of getting back on the track.

The night of the 18th to the 19th was dark and cold. However, around eleven o’clock the wind became calm, the surging fell and the Bonadventure, being less jolted, acquired a greater speed. It performed well.

Neither Pencroff, nor Gideon Spilett, nor Herbert thought of taking an hour’s sleep. They watched carefully because Lincoln Island could not be far off. By daybreak they would not know where the current and wind had carried the Bonadventure and it would be almost impossible to rectify its direction.

Pencroff, uneasy to the last degree, did not despair however, because he had a well tempered spirit. Seated at the helm, he searched obstinately, endeavoring to pierce the darkness which enveloped him.

About two o’clock in the morning he suddenly got up:

“A fire! A fire!” he shouted.

“A fire! A fire!” shouted Pencroff.

And in fact, a vivid flame appeared about twenty miles to the northeast. Lincoln Island was there and this flame, evidently lit by Cyrus Smith, showed the route to follow.

Pencroff, sailing too much to the north, altered his direction and put his bow toward this fire which burned above the horizon like a star of the first magnitude.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Abandoned

Chapter XV

Return—Discussion—Cyrus Smith and the stranger—Port Balloon—The third harvest—A windmill—The first flour and the first bread—The engineer’s devotion—A moving experience—Some flowing tears.

THE next day—the 20th of October—at seven o’clock in the morning, after a voyage of four days, the Bonadventure gently went aground on the beach at the mouth of the Mercy.

Cyrus Smith and Neb, very uneasy about the bad weather and the prolonged absence of their companions, had climbed to Grand View Plateau at daybreak and they finally saw the boat which had been so long in returning.

“God be praised! There they are!” shouted Cyrus Smith.

Neb, in his joy, began to dance, turning around, clapping his hands and shouting: “Oh! My master,” a pantomime more touching than the finest discourse.

The engineer’s first thought, on counting the people that he could see on the bridge of the Bonadventure, was that Pencroff had not found the castaway of Tabor Island or that at least the unfortunate had refused to leave his island to exchange his prison for another.

And indeed, Pencroff, Gideon Spilett and Herbert were alone on the bridge of the Bonadventure.

At the moment when the boat came alongside, the engineer and Neb were waiting on the shore and before the passengers could jump to the sand, Cyrus Smith said to them:

“We have been very uneasy at your delay, my friends. Have you met with any difficulty?”

“No,” replied Gideon Spilett, “on the contrary, everything went well. We will tell you about it.”

“However,” replied the engineer, “you have failed in your search, since there are only three of you, the same as when you left.”

“Excuse me, Mister Cyrus,” replied the sailor, “we are four!”

“You found this castaway?”

“Yes.”

“And you brought him back?”

“Yes.”

“Living?”

“Yes.”

“Where is he? What is he?”

“He is,” replied the reporter, “or rather he was a man. That Cyrus, is all that we can tell you.”

The engineer was soon brought up to date on what had occurred on the trip. They related under what conditions the search had been conducted, how the only dwelling on the islet had long been abandoned, how finally the capture was made of a castaway who no longer seemed to belong to the human species.

“And the point is,” added Pencroff, “that I don’t know if we were right in bringing him here.”

“Certainly you were right, Pencroff,” replied the engineer vividly.

“But this unfortunate no longer has his reason.”

“That is possible for now,” replied Cyrus Smith, “but hardly several months ago this unfortunate was a man like you or me. And who knows what will become of the last survivor among us after a long solitude on this island? It is a misfortune to be alone, my friends, and it seems that loneliness has quickly destroyed his sanity since you found this poor soul in such a condition.”

“But, Mister Cyrus,” asked Herbert, “what leads you to believe that the brutishness of this unfortunate occurred only a few months ago?”

“Because the document that we found has been recently written,” replied the engineer, “and only the castaway could have written this document.”

“Assuming,” said Gideon Spilett, “that it was not composed by a companion of this man, since dead.”

“That is impossible, my dear Spilett.”

“Why?” asked the reporter.

“Because the document would have mentioned two castaways,” replied Cyrus Smith, “but it only spoke of one.”

In a few words, Herbert related the incidents that occurred during the return crossing and emphasized the strange fact about the fleeting return of the prisoner’s senses when, for a moment, he became a sailor again at the height of the storm.

“Well, Herbert,” replied the engineer, “you are right to attach a great importance to this fact. This unfortunate is not incurable and it is despair that has made him what he is. But here he has his fellow beings and since he still has a soul within him, this soul we will save.”

The castaway of Tabor Island, to the great pity of the engineer and to the great astonishment of Neb, was then escorted from the forward cabin that he occupied on the Bonadventure, and once on land his first impulse was to flee.

But Cyrus Smith approached, put his hand on his shoulder with a gesture full of authority, and looked at him with infinite gentleness. Soon the unfortunate submitted to his authority, he became calmer little by little, his eyes lowered, his face inclined and he made no more resistance.

Cyrus Smith put his hand on his shoulder.

“This poor forsaken man!” murmured the engineer.

Cyrus Smith looked at him carefully. Judging from his appearance, the castaway no longer had anything human about him but Cyrus Smith detected an elusive glimmer of intelligence, as had the reporter previously.

It was decided that the castaway, or rather the stranger—because this is what his new companions would henceforth call him—would remain in one of the rooms of Granite House from which, besides, he could not escape. They escorted him there without difficulty and with good care they could hope that one day he would become an additional companion to the colonists of Lincoln Island.

The reporter, Herbert and Pencroff were dying of hunger. During a breakfast that Neb quickly put together, they told Cyrus Smith all the incidents in detail that marked the exploration of the islet. He agreed with his friends on this point that the stranger had to be either English or American because the name Britannia suggested this, and besides, under his unkempt beard, under this hairy growth, the engineer thought that he saw the characteristic features of the Anglo-Saxon.

“But, as a matter of fact,” said Gideon Spilett to Herbert, “you did not tell us how you met this savage and all we know is that he would have strangled you if we did not chance to arrive in time to save you.”

“Dear me,” replied Herbert, “I’m not sure what happened. I was, I believe, occupied with collecting some plants when I heard a noise like an avalanche falling from a tree. I hardly had time to turn around... The unfortunate was doubtless hiding in a tree and fell upon me in less time than I can tell you about it and without Mister Spilett and Pencroff...”

“My child!” said Cyrus Smith, “you ran a real danger, but without it perhaps this poor person would always have remained hidden and we would not have had an additional companion.”

“You hope then, Cyrus, to rehabilitate him?” asked the reporter.

“Yes,” replied the engineer.

The meal ended, Cyrus Smith and his companions left Granite House and returned to the beach. They then unloaded the Bonadventure. The engineer examined the arms and the tools but he saw nothing that would enable him to establish the identity of the stranger.

The capture of the pigs was considered a very profitable thing for Lincoln Island and these animals were conducted to the stables where they easily became acclimatized.

The two barrels containing powder and shot, as well as the primer caps, were very well received. They agreed to establish a small arsenal either outside Granite House or even in the upper cavern where there was no fear of the effects of an explosion. Nevertheless the use of pyroxle would be continued because this substance gave excellent results and there was no reason to substitute ordinary powder for it.

When the unloading of the boat was completed:

“Mister Cyrus,” said Pencroff, “I think that it would be prudent to put our Bonadventure in a secure place.”

“Isn’t the mouth of the Mercy suitable?” asked Cyrus Smith.

“No, Mister Cyrus,” replied the sailor. “Half the time it is stranded on the sand which strains it. It is a good boat, as you can see, and it behaved well during the windstorm that struck us so violently on our return,”

“Can’t we leave it afloat on the river?”

“Doubtless, Mister Cyrus, we could do that, but this mouth presents no shelter, and with the winds from the east, I believe that the Bonadventure would suffer much from the sea.”

“Well, where would you like to put it, Pencroff?”

“At Port Balloon,” replied the sailor. “This small creek, protected by the rocks, seems to me to be just the port we need.”

“Isn’t it a little far?”

“Bah! It’s not more than three miles from Granite House, and we have a fine straight road to take us there.”

“Do it, Pencroff. Bring your Bonadventure there,” replied the engineer. “And yet I would much prefer to have it under our more immediate surveillance. When we have the time, we must make a small port for it.”

“Wonderful,” shouted Pencroff. “A port with a lighthouse, a breakwater and a repair dock. Ah, really, with you Mister Cyrus, everything becomes easy.”

“Yes, my worthy Pencroff,” replied the engineer, “but on the condition, however, that you help me because you are good for three quarters of all our work.”

Herbert and the sailor then went back on board the Bonadventure, the anchor was raised, the sail hoisted, and the wind rapidly brought it to Cape Claw. Two hours later it was resting on the tranquil waters of Port Balloon.

During the first days that the stranger passed at Granite House, did he give them reason to think that his savage nature was changing? Did some intense spark shine deep within his obscure mind? Would the soul return to the body? Yes, assuredly, and on this very point, Cyrus Smith and the reporter asked themselves whether the sanity of the unfortunate had ever been totally extinct.

Since he was accustomed to the wide open spaces and unlimited liberty which he enjoyed on Tabor Island, the stranger at first manifested some muted fury and they feared that he would throw himself on the beach from one of the windows of Granite House. But little by little he became calm and they were able to allow him the liberty of his movements.

They then had good reason for hope. Already forgetting his instincts as a raw flesh eater, the stranger accepted a less bestial nourishment than that which he ate on the islet. Cooked meat did not produce the revulsion in him that he had manifested on board the Bonadventure.

Cyrus Smith profited from a moment when he was asleep to cut his hair and unkempt beard which had formed a sort of mane and gave him a savage appearance. He also dressed him in more suitable clothes after having removed the rag which covered him. Thanks to these cares, the result was that the stranger presented a human figure and it even seemed that his eyes became more gentle. Certainly, when his former intelligence would return, the figure of this man would have a sort of beauty.

Each day Cyrus Smith imposed upon himself the task of spending a few hours in his company. He worked near him and occupied himself with various things so as to capture his attention. In fact, a spark would suffice to illuminate his soul, some remembrance crossing his mind would bring back his sanity. They had seen this on board the Bonadventure during the storm.

The engineer did not neglect to speak loudly so as to penetrate at the same time the organs of hearing and sight to the depths of his dulled intelligence. Sometimes one of his companions, sometimes another, sometimes all would join him. Very often they spoke of those things that would interest a sailor and which would appeal to him. At times the stranger paid some attention to what was said and the colonists soon concluded that he partly understood them. Sometimes his expression was deeply painful, proving that he suffered inwardly, because his face could not be mistaken about this, but he did not speak in spite of some moments when they thought he had some words at the tip of his tongue.

Be it as it may, the poor soul was calm and sad. But was his calm only apparent? Wasn’t his sadness only the consequence of his being confined? They could not tell. Seeing only certain objects in a limited field and having no contact except with the colonists to whom he became accustomed, having no desire to satisfy, having better food and better clothing, it was natural that his physical nature should change a bit; but did this signify a new life for him or rather, to use a word which would correctly apply to him, was he merely becoming tame like an animal with a master? This was an important question that Cyrus Smith wanted to resolve quickly yet he did not wish to hurt his patient. For him the stranger was a patient. Would he ever become a convalescent?

The engineer observed him constantly. How he was on the alert for his soul to show itself, if one may speak this way! How he was ready to seize it!

With sincere emotion the colonists followed all the phases of this cure undertaken by Cyrus Smith. They also helped him with this work of humanity and all, except perhaps for the incredulous Pencroff, soon began to share his hope and his faith.

The stranger’s calm was deep, as has been said, and he showed a sort of attachment to the engineer, to whose influence he visibly submitted. Cyrus Smith decided to test this by bringing him to other surroundings, before this ocean which he formerly gazed at and to the edge of the forest which would remind him of those forests where he spent many years of his life.

“But,” said Gideon Spilett, “can we hope that once set at liberty he will not escape?”

“That’s an experiment we must make,” replied the engineer.

“Good!” said Pencroff. “When this here chap finds the open spaces in front of him and he inhales the fresh air, he will be off as fast as his legs can carry him.”

“I don’t believe that,” replied Cyrus Smith.

“Let us try,” said Gideon Spilett.

“Let us try,” replied the engineer.

This day was the 30th of October and consequently it was now nine days that the castaway from Tabor Island had been a prisoner at Granite House. It was warm and a fine sun cast its rays on the island.

Cyrus Smith and Pencroff went to the room occupied by the stranger and found him leaning at the window looking at the sky.

“Come, my friend,” the engineer said to him.

The stranger immediately got up. With his eyes fixed on Cyrus Smith, he followed him. The sailor was to the rear of him, having little confidence in the result of the experiment.

Arriving at the door, Cyrus Smith and Pencroff made him take his place in the elevator while Neb, Herbert and Gideon Spilett waited for them below at the foot of Granite House. The basket descended and in a few moments all were together on the shore. The colonists moved away a little from the stranger so as to give him some liberty.

The latter took a few steps advancing toward the sea. His gaze shone with extreme animation but he did not seek to escape. He looked at the small waves which, broken by the islet, came to die on the sand.

“This is still only the sea,” noted Gideon Spilett, “and it is possible that it does not inspire him with the desire to escape.”

“Yes,” replied Cyrus Smith, “we must take him to the plateau, to the edge of the forest. There the experiment will be more conclusive.”

“Besides, he cannot escape,” noted Neb, “since the bridges are raised.”

“Oh!” said Pencroff, “a man like this will not be inconvenienced by a creek such as Glycerin Creek. He will cross it in a single bound.”

“We will see,” Cyrus Smith was content to reply, not taking his eyes away from those of his patient.

The latter was taken to the mouth of the Mercy, and they all then ascended the left bank of the river, reaching Grand View Plateau.

Arriving in the vicinity of the first fine trees of the forest, with the breeze gently blowing through their foliage, the stranger inhaled with rapture the scent that permeated the air and a deep sigh escaped from his chest.

A deep sigh escaped from his chest.

The colonists kept to the rear ready to seize him if he should try to escape.

And in fact, he was on the point of throwing himself into the creek that separated him from the forest and for a moment his legs bent like a spring... But almost immediately he fell back, he collapsed and large tears flowed from his eyes.

“Ah!” said Cyrus Smith, “you have become a man again, since you are crying.”

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Abandoned

Chapter XVI

A mystery to clear up—The stranger’s first words—A dozen years on the islet—Admissions which escape him—The disappearance—Cyrus Smith’s confidence—Construction of a mill—The first bread—An act of devotion—Honest hands.

YES, the unfortunate had cried! Some remembrance doubtless had crossed his mind and, to use Cyrus Smith’s expression, he had become a man again by his tears.

The colonists left him for a while on the plateau and even withdrew a little so that he could feel free; but he no longer thought of profiting from this liberty and Cyrus Smith shortly decided to bring him back to Granite House.

Two days after this scene the stranger seemed to want to mix a little with the community life. It was evident that he heard and that he understood but it was none the less evident that he was strangely obstinate in not speaking to the colonists because one evening Pencroff, putting his ear to the door of his room, heard these words escape from his lips:

“No! here! me! never!”

The sailor related these words to his companions.

“There is some painful mystery here,” said Cyrus Smith.

The stranger began to use some tools and worked in the garden. When he paused in his work, which was often, he remained as if concentrating on himself; but, at the engineer’s recommendation, they respected this isolation which he seemed to want to protect. If one of the colonists approached him he withdrew and sobs came from his chest as if full of them.

Was he overcome by remorse? It seemed so, and Gideon Spilett could not refrain one day from making this observation:

“If he does not speak it is because he has, I believe, things too grave to talk about.”

They would have to be patient and wait.

Several days later, the third of November, the stranger, working on the plateau, stopped and let his spade fall to the ground. Cyrus Smith, who observed him a little distance away, saw the tears flow from his eyes once more. He felt an irresistible pity for him and he gently touched his arms.

“My friend,” he said.

The stranger tried to avoid his gaze, and since Cyrus Smith wanted to take his hand, he withdrew.

“My friend,” said Cyrus Smith in a firm voice, “look at me, I wish it.”

The stranger looked at the engineer and seemed to be under his influence like a hypnotized person under the power of a hypnotist. He wanted to flee. But then his countenance changed. His look emitted a flash. Words tried to escape from his lips. He could no longer hold them in... Finally he crossed his arms; then in a hollow voice:

“Who are you?” he asked Cyrus Smith.

“Who are you?” he asked Cyrus Smith.

“Castaways, like yourself,” replied the engineer, with deep emotion. “We have brought you here to be with your fellow men.”

“My fellow men!... I do not have any.”

“You are among friends...”

“Friends!... me! friends!” The stranger shouted, hiding his head in his hands. “No... never... leave me alone... leave me alone.”

Then he ran to the edge of the plateau which overlooked the sea and remained there immobile for a long time.

Cyrus Smith rejoined his companions and related what had occurred.

“Yes! There is a mystery in this man’s life,” said Gideon Spilett, “and it seems that he will return to humanity only by the path of remorse.”

“I hardly know what kind of a man we have brought here,” said the sailor. “He has secrets...”

“Which we will respect,” replied Cyrus Smith vividly. “If he has committed some mistake he has severely expiated it and in our eyes he is absolved.”

For two hours the stranger remained alone, evidently under the influence of past memories—a disastrous past doubtless—and the colonists, without losing sight of him, did not disturb his privacy.

However, after two hours, he appeared to have come to a decision and he went to find Cyrus Smith. His eyes were red from the tears that had poured forth, but he was no longer crying. He had a look of deep humility. He seemed timid, bashful, very humble and he constantly gazed at the ground.

“Sir,” he said to Cyrus Smith, “your companions and you, are you English?”

“No,” replied the engineer, “we are Americans.”

“Ah!” said the stranger, and he murmured these words:

“I much prefer that.”

“And you, my friend?” asked the engineer.

“English,” he replied hurriedly.

And, as these words were hard to say, he ran to the shore to the area between the cascade and the mouth of the Mercy. He was extremely agitated.

Then, passing near Herbert for a moment he stopped and in a strange voice:

“What month?” he asked him.

“December,” replied Herbert.

“What year?”

“1866.”

“Twelve years! twelve years,” he shouted. Then he left abruptly.

Herbert related to the colonists the questions and answers that had been made.

“This unfortunate,” Gideon Spilett noted, “was no longer aware of months or years,”

“Yes,” added Herbert, “and he was already twelve years on the islet when we found him there.”

“Twelve years!” replied Cyrus Smith. “Ah! twelve years of isolation after a cursed existence perhaps could deprive any man of his sanity.”

“I am led to believe,” Pencroff then said, “that this man did not reach Tabor Island as a castaway but that he was abandoned there as a result of some crime.”

“You may be right, Pencroff,” replied the reporter, “and if that is so, it is not impossible that those who left him there will return to look for him one day.”

“And they will no longer find him,” said Herbert.

“But then,” replied Pencroff, “they must leave again and...”

“My friends,” said Cyrus Smith, “let us not consider this question before we know what we have to contend with. I believe that this unfortunate has suffered, that he has harshly expiated his mistakes, whatever they be, and that he has the need to unburden himself. Let us not provoke him to tell us his story. He will doubtless tell it to us and when we have learned it, we will see what course it is best to follow. Besides, he alone can tell us if he still hopes to he rescued one day, but I doubt it!”

“And why?” asked the reporter.

“Because in the event that he had been assured of being delivered within a certain time, he would have waited for the hour of his deliverance and he would not have thrown this document into the sea. No, it is rather probable that he was condemned to die on this islet and that he would never be able to see his fellow beings again.”

“But,” noted the sailor, “there is one thing that I have been unable to explain to myself.”

“Which is?”

“If it is twelve years since this man has been abandoned on Tabor Island, then we may surely suppose that he was already for several years in the savage state in which we found him.”

“That is probable,” replied Cyrus Smith.

“It would consequently be several years since he had written this document.”

“Doubtless... and yet the document seems to have been recently written!...”

“Besides, wouldn’t the bottle which enclosed the document have taken several years to go from Tabor Island to Lincoln Island?”

“That is not absolutely impossible,” replied the reporter. “Could it not already have been a long time in the vicinity of the island?”

“No,” replied Pencroff, “because it was still floating. We cannot even assume that after having remained on the beach for a longer or a shorter time it was returned to the sea because there are so many rocks on the southern coast that it would surely have broken.”

“Right,” replied Cyrus Smith, who remained absorbed in thought.

“So,” added the sailor, “if the document was written several years ago, if it was enclosed in this bottle for several years, it would have been damaged by the dampness. Now, there is nothing of the sort, and we find it in perfect condition.”

The sailor was right. It was an incomprehensible fact, because when the colonists found the document in the bottle, it seemed to have been recently written. In addition, it gave the position of Tabor Island in latitude and in longitude with precision which implied that its author had a rather complete knowledge of hydrography which a simple sailor could not have.

“Once again we have here something inexplicable,” said the engineer, “but let us not provoke our new companion to speak. When he wishes it, my friends, we will be ready to listen to him.”

During the days which followed, the stranger did not say a word nor did he at any time leave the confines of the plateau. He worked the ground, without losing a moment, without taking a moment’s rest, but always in solitude. At mealtimes he did not go to Granite House although invited several times to do so and he was content to eat some raw vegetables. When night came, he did not go back to the room which had been assigned to him but he remained there under some cluster of trees or, when the weather was bad he crouched in some cavity among the rocks. Thus he still lived like the time when there was no other shelter than the forests of Tabor Island and, since any attempt to get him to change his life was in vain, the colonists waited patiently. But the time had to come when his conscience would force him to reveal his terrible crimes.

On the 10th of November, at about eight o’clock in the evening, when night was coming on, the stranger unexpectedly presented himself to the colonists who were gathered under the veranda. His eyes were blazing strangely and his entire person had taken on the fierce aspect of his former days.

Cyrus Smith and his companions were taken aback on seeing him under the influence of this terrible emotion, his teeth clacking like someone in a fever. What was this about? Was the sight of his fellow men unbearable? Had he had enough of this honest existence? Did he have a nostalgia for his brutish life? They were led to think this on hearing him express these incoherent phrases:

“Why am I here?... What right did you have to drag me from my islet?... Is there any bond between you and me?... Do you know who I am... what I have done... why I was there... alone? And how do you know that I wasn’t abandoned there... that I wasn’t condemned to die there?... Do you know my past?... How do you know that I am not a thief, an assassin... that I am not worthless... a wretch... fit to live like a wild beast... away from everyone... speak... do you know this?”

The colonists listened without interrupting the unfortunate who was half confessing in spite of himself. Cyrus Smith, wanting to calm him, approached, but he drew back.

“No!, no!” he shouted. “One word only... am I free?”

“You are free,” replied the engineer.

“Goodbye then!” he shouted, and fled like a madman.

Neb, Pencroff and Herbert immediately ran to the edge of the forest... but they returned alone.

“He needs to get away,” said Cyrus Smith.

“He will never return...” shouted Pencroff.

“He will return,” replied the engineer.

And the days passed; but Cyrus Smith—was it a sort of premonition?—persisted in the firm idea that the unfortunate would return sooner or later.

“It is the last revolt of his wild nature,” he said, “which is affected by remorse and which a new seclusion will terrify.”

However various activities of all sorts were continued. Cyrus Smith intended to build a farm either at Grand View Plateau or at the corral. It goes without saying that the seed collected by Herbert on Tabor Island had been carefully planted. The plateau then became a large kitchen garden, well arranged and well maintained which the colonists did not cease to work. They were always laboring there. As the vegetables multiplied, they had to enlarge the simple squares which tended to develop into real fields and replace the prairie. But forage was plentiful in other parts of the island and the onagers never had to fear any rationing. Besides, it was better to transform Grand View Plateau into a kitchen garden shielded as it was by a deep belt of creeks and to leave to the outside the prairies which had no need to be protected against the depredations of quadrumanes and quadrupeds.

On November 15th they had the third harvest. The area had grown in the eighteen months since the first grain of corn had been planted. The second harvest of six hundred thousand grains this time produced four thousand bushels which is more than five hundred million grains. The colony was rich in corn because it would suffice to sow about ten bushels each year to assure a harvest from which every one, man and beast, could be nourished.

The harvest was then completed and they devoted the last half of the month of November to making it into bread.

In fact, they had the grain but not the flour so the installation of a mill was necessary. Cyrus Smith could have used the second fall which overflowed into the Mercy for his motor power, the first being already used to drive the rammers of the fulling mill; but after discussion it was decided that they would establish a simple windmill on the heights of Grand View. The construction of one did not offer any more difficulty than the construction of the other, and they were sure, on the other hand, that there would be no lack of wind on this plateau exposed as it was to the open sea.

“Without counting,” said Pencroff, “that this windmill would be pretty and would have a good effect on the landscape.”

They began the work by choosing timber for the framework of the cage and for the mechanism of the mill. Several large sandstones found to the north of the lake were easily transformed into grindstones and as to the arms, the inexhaustible envelope of the balloon furnished the necessary cloth.

Cyrus Smith made his plans and the location for the mill was chosen a little to the right of the poultry yard, near the banks of the lake. The entire cage rested on a pivot supported by the main framework so as to be able to turn with the entire mechanism which it contained, according to the demands of the wind.

This work was quickly accomplished. Neb and Pencroff had become very skilful carpenters and they had only to follow the model furnished by the engineer. A sort of cylindrical turret, topped by a roof, soon rose at the designated place. The four frames which formed the arms were firmly implanted into a shaft so as to make a certain angle with it and were fixed to it by means of iron bolts. As to the various parts of the internal mechanism, the box destined to contain the two grindstones, the stationary stone and the turning stone, the hopper which was a sort of square spout, large on top and narrow at the base, which would permit the grains to fall on the grindstones, the oscillating spout designed to regulate the flow of grain and to which its perpetual tic-tac would give it the name of “blabbermouth,” and finally the sieve which, by the operation of the sifter, separated the bran from the flour, all these were made without difficulty. The tools were good and the work presented little difficulty because, in short, the mechanism of a mill is very simple. It is only a question of time.

Everyone worked on the construction of the mill and on the 1st of December it was finished.

As always, Pencroff was enchanted with his work and he did not doubt but that his apparatus was perfect.

Pencroff was enchanted with his work.

“Now for a good wind,” he said, “and we will merrily grind our first harvest.”

“A good wind, so be it,” replied the engineer, “but not too much wind, Pencroff.”

“Bah! our mill will only turn faster”

“It is not necessary that it turn so fast,” replied Cyrus Smith. “It is known from experience that the greatest amount of work is produced by a mill when the number of rotations of the arms per minute is six times the speed of the wind in feet per second. With a moderate breeze which gives a speed of twenty four feet per second, it will impart sixteen revolutions per minute to the arms which is no more than we need.”

“Right!” shouted Herbert. “A jolly breeze is blowing from the northeast which will do our work.”

There was no reason to delay the inauguration of the mill because the colonists were in a hurry to taste the first piece of bread from Lincoln Island. On this day then, in the afternoon, two or three bushels of corn were ground and the next day at lunch a magnificent loaf, a bit compact perhaps even though raised with brewer’s yeast, appeared on the table of Granite House. Everyone bit off huge chunks and with what pleasure as one can imagine.

However the stranger had not reappeared. Several times Gideon Spilett and Herbert had gone to the forest in the neighborhood of Granite House without encountering him and without finding any trace of him. This prolonged disappearance made them very anxious. Certainly the old savage from Tabor Island would have no difficulty keeping alive in these forests of the Far West so full of game, but wasn’t it to be feared that he would return to his old habits and that this independence would revive his wild instincts? By a sort of premonition, Cyrus Smith always persisted in saying that, without doubt, the fugitive would return.

“Yes, he will return,” he repeated with a confidence which his companions could not share. “When this unfortunate was on Tabor Island he knew himself to be alone. Here he knows that his fellow beings await him. Since he has half spoken of his past life, he has repented, and he will return to tell us the entire story and from that day on he will be one of us.”

The event showed that Cyrus Smith was right.

On the 3rd of December, Herbert had left Grand View Plateau to go fishing on the southern bank of the lake. He was without weapons and until then there had never been any precaution to take since dangerous animals had not shown themselves on this part of the island.

During this while, Pencroff and Neb were working at the poultry yard while Cyrus Smith and the reporter were occupied at the Chimneys making soda, the supply of soap being exhausted.

Suddenly these shouts resounded:

“Help me!”

Cyrus Smith and the reporter, being too far away, could not hear these shouts. Pencroff and Neb, quickly abandoning the poultry yard, ran toward the lake.

But as they arrived they saw the stranger, whose presence in this neighborhood no one suspected, crossing Glycerin Creek which separated the plateau from the forest and jump to the opposite bank.

There, Herbert was face to face with a formidable jaguar which resembled the one that had been killed at Reptile Promontory. Suddenly surprised, he stood against a tree while the animal was getting ready to leap upon him... But the stranger, without any weapon other than a knife, hurled himself on the redoubtable beast who turned toward this new adversary.

The battle was a short one. The stranger had strength and prodigious skill. With one hand, as powerful as a shear, he seized the jaguar by the throat without bothering with the beast’s claws which penetrated into his flesh, and with the other hand he dug his knife into the animal’s heart.

He seized the jaguar by the throat.

The jaguar fell. The stranger kicked it aside and was about to flee just as the colonists reached the field of battle. Herbert held him back shouting:

“No! No! You will not go!”

Cyrus Smith went toward the stranger who frowned when he saw him approach. The blood was flowing under his torn shirt but he took no notice of it.

“My friend,” Cyrus Smith said to him, “we are indebted to you. You risked your life to save our child.”

“My life!” murmured the stranger. “What is it worth? Less than nothing.”

“You are wounded.”

“That’s of little importance.”

“Will you give me your hand?”

And as Herbert tried to grasp the hand that had saved him, the stranger crossed his arms, swelled up his chest, his look became clouded and he seemed to want to flee; but making a violent effort to control himself and in an abrupt tone:

“Who are you,” he asked, “and what do you claim to be to me?”

It was the colonists’ story that he was thus asking for, and for the first time. Perhaps, if this story was related, would he tell his own?

In a few words, Cyrus Smith related all that had occurred since their departure from Richmond, how they had managed their affairs, and what resources were now available to them.

The stranger listened carefully.

The engineer spoke for everyone, for Gideon Spilett, Herbert, Pencroff, Neb and himself and added that the greatest joy that they had experienced since their arrival on Lincoln Island was their return from the islet when they had been able to count an additional companion.

At these words the latter blushed, lowered his head on his chest and became confused.

“And now that you know about us,” added Cyrus Smith, “will you give us your hand?”

“No,” replied the stranger in a hollow voice, “no! You are honest men, you! and I!...”

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Abandoned

Chapter XVII

Always alone—A request from the stranger—A farmhouse established at the corral—He was there twelve years—The first mate of the “Britannia”—Abandoned on Tabor Island—The hand of Cyrus Smith—The mysterious document.

THESE last words justified the colonists’ premonitions. There was some past disaster in this unfortunate’s life, expiated perhaps in the eyes of men, but his conscience had still not absolved him. In any case, the criminal was remorseful, he repented, but this hand that was asked of him, which his new friends would have cordially grasped, he did not feel worthy to offer to honest men. Nevertheless, after the scene with the jaguar, he did not return to the forest and after this day he did not leave the Granite House area.

What was his mystery? Would the stranger speak of it one day? The future would tell. In any event it was agreed that they would never ask him about his secret and that they would live with him as if they suspected nothing.

For several days the community life continued as it had always been. Cyrus Smith and Gideon Spilett worked together sometimes as chemists and sometimes as physicists. The reporter left the engineer only to hunt with Herbert because it would not have been prudent to let the lad roam the forest alone, and they had to be on guard. As to Neb and Pencroff, one day at the stables or at the poultry yard, another at the corral, without counting the tasks at Granite House, they had no lack of work.

The stranger worked alone and he resumed his usual existence, never present at mealtime, sleeping under some trees on the plateau and never mingling with his companions. It truly seemed that the society of those who had saved him was unbearable.

“But then,” noted Pencroff, “why did he ask for the help of his fellow men? Why did he throw this document into the sea?”

“He will tell us,” Cyrus Smith invariably replied.

“When?”

“Perhaps sooner than you think, Pencroff.”

And in fact, the confession day was near.

On the 10th of December, a week after his return to Granite House, Cyrus Smith saw the stranger coming to him. With a calm voice and a humble tone he said to him:

“Sir, I have a request to ask of you.”

“Speak,” replied the engineer, “but first let me ask you a question.”

At these words the stranger blushed and was on the point of leaving. Cyrus Smith understood what was passing in the guilty man’s soul. He was doubtless afraid that the engineer would question him about his past.

Cyrus Smith held him back.

“Comrade,” he said to him, “not only are we your companions but we are your friends. I insist on saying this to you and now I will listen to you.”

The stranger passed his hands over his eyes. He trembled and for a few moments he could not say a word.

“Sir,” he finally said, “I came to beg you to grant me a favor.”

“What?”

“Four or five miles from here, at the foot of the mountain, you have a corral for your domestic animals. These animals need to be cared for. Will you permit me to live there with them?”

Cyrus Smith looked at the unfortunate for a few moments with a sentiment of deep commiseration. Then:

“My friend,” he said, “the corral only has stables hardly fit for animals...”

“It will be good enough for me, sir.”

“My friend,” replied Cyrus Smith, “we will never interfere with you on anything. It pleases you to live at the corral. So be it. You will, however, always be welcome at Granite House. But since you wish to live at the corral we will make the necessary arrangements for your comfort.”

“That is not important. I will always manage.”

“My friend,” replied Cyrus Smith, who purposely insisted on this cordial appellation, “let us judge what we ought to do in this regard.”

“Thank you, sir” replied the stranger on leaving.

The engineer immediately told his companions about the proposition that had been made to him and it was decided that they would construct a wooden house at the corral and that they would make it as comfortable as possible.

That very day the colonists went to the corral with the necessary tools and a week had not passed when the house was ready to receive its host. It had been raised some twenty feet above the stables and from there it would be easy to keep surveillance over the mouflon flocks which then counted more than eighty head. Some furniture, a bed, a table, a bench, a wardrobe and a chest were made, and weapons, munitions and tools were brought to the corral.

The stranger however had not seen his new dwelling and he had allowed the colonists to work there without him, while he occupied himself on the plateau wanting doubtless to put the last touch on his work. As a matter of fact, thanks to him, the entire ground had been worked and was ready to be sowed as soon as the time would come.

It was the 20th of December that these arrangements had been completed at the corral. The engineer announced to the stranger that his dwelling was ready to receive him and the latter replied that he would sleep there that very night.

That evening the colonists were gathered in the large hall of Granite House. It was then eight o’clock when their companion was about to leave. Not wanting to inconvenience him by the need to say goodbye, which would perhaps be difficult for him, they had left him alone and had gone up to Granite House.

They had been chatting for a few moments in the large hall when a light knock was heard on the door. Almost immediately the stranger entered and without any other preamble:

“Gentlemen,” he said, “before I leave you, it is best that you know my story. Here it is.”

These simple words did not fail to vividly impress Cyrus Smith and his companions.

The engineer got up.

“We ask nothing of you, my friend,” he said. “You have the right to remain silent...”

“It is my duty to speak.”

“Be seated then.”

“I will remain standing.”

“We are ready to listen to you,” replied Cyrus Smith.

The stranger stood in a corner of the room, a little in the shadows. His head was bare, his arms crossed on his chest and it was in this posture that, in a muffled voice, speaking like someone who was forcing himself to speak, he made the following recital which his listeners did not once interrupt.

His head was bare, his arms crossed.

“On the 20th of December 1854, the steam pleasure yacht, the Duncan, belonging to the Scotch nobleman, Lord Glenarvan, dropped anchor off Cape Bernouilli on the western coast of Australia on the 37th parallel. On board this yacht were Lord Glenarvan, his wife, a major of the English army, a French geographer, a young girl and a young boy. These last two were the children of Captain Grant whose vessel, the Britannia, had been lost, men and cargo, the previous year. The Duncan was commanded by Captain John Mangles and carried a crew of fifteen men.

“This is the reason that the yacht found itself off the coast of Australia at this time.

“Six months earlier a bottle enclosing a document written in English, in German, and in French had been found in the Irish Sea and picked up by the Duncan. This document stated in substance that there still were three survivors from the wreck of the Britannia, that these survivors were Captain Grant and two of his men and that they had found refuge on a land whose latitude was given by the document but whose longitude was no longer legible, having been erased by the sea water.

“This latitude was 37°11′ South. Thus, the longitude being unknown, if they followed this thirty seventh parallel across the continents and the seas, they were certain to reach the land inhabited by Captain Grant and his two companions.

“The English admiralty having hesitated to undertake this search, Lord Glenarvan decided to attempt to find the captain himself. Mary and Robert Grant had been put in touch with him. The yacht, the Duncan, was equipped for a long voyage in which the lord’s family and the captain’s children would take part, and the Duncan, leaving Glasgow, crossed the Atlantic, doubled the Straits of Magellan and went up the Pacific to Patagonia where, according to a first interpretation of the document, they had thought that Captain Grant was a prisoner of the natives.

“The Duncan disembarked its passengers on the western coast of Patagonia and left in order to pick them up again on the eastern coast at Cape Corrientes.

“Lord Glenarvan crossed Patagonia following the thirty seventh parallel and not having found any trace of the captain, he embarked again on the 13th of November, in order to pursue his search across the ocean.

“After having unsuccessfully visited the islands of Tristan de Acunha and Amsterdam, situated on his course, the Duncan as I have said, arrived at Cape Bernouilli on the Australian coast on the 20th of December 1854.

“It was the intention of Lord Glenarvan to cross Australia as he had crossed America and he disembarked. A few miles from the shore was a farm belonging to an Irishman who offered his hospitality to the travelers. Lord Glenarvan acquainted this Irishman with the reasons that had brought him to these parts and he asked him if he knew about the three masted English vessel, the Britannia, which was lost less than two years earlier on the western coast of Australia.

“The Irishman had never heard anyone speak about this wreck; but, to the great surprise of those present, one of the Irishman’s employees intervened and said:

“‘My lord, praise and thank God. If Captain Grant is still living, he is living on Australian soil.’

“‘Who are you?’ asked Lord Glenarvan.

“‘A Scotchman like yourself, my lord,’ replied this man, ‘and I am one of the companions of Captain Grant, one of the castaways of the Britannia.’

“This man was called Ayrton. He was, in fact, the first mate of the Britannia as certified by his papers. But, separated from Captain Grant at the moment when the vessel was wrecked on the reef, he had believed until then that his captain had perished along with the entire crew and that it was he, Ayrton, who was the only survivor of the Britannia.

AYRTON.

“‘Only,’ he added, ‘it was not on the west coast but on the east coast of Australia that the Britannia was lost and if Captain Grant is still living, as the document indicates, then he is a prisoner of the Australian natives and it is on the other coast that you must look for him.’

“This man spoke with a clear voice and with an assured look. They did not doubt his words. The Irishman, in whose service he had been for a year, vouched for him. Lord Glenarvan believed in this man’s honesty and thanks to his advice, he resolved to cross Australia following the 37th parallel. Lord Glenarvan, his wife, the two children, the major, the Frenchman, Captain Mangles and several mates made up the small group under Ayrton’s direction while the Duncan, commanded by the second mate, Tom Austin, went to Melbourne, there to await Lord Glenarvan’s instructions.

“They left on the 23rd of December 1854.

“It is time to say that this Ayrton was a traitor. He was in fact the first mate of the Britannia, but after discussions with his captain he had tried to stir the crew to revolt and seize the vessel, and when Captain Grant touched shore on the western coast of Australia on the 8th of April 1852, he abandoned him there, which was only right.

“So this wretch knew nothing about the wreck of the Britannia. He came to know of it from Glenarvan’s recital. Since his abandonment he had become, under the name of Ben Joyce, the chief of some escaped convicts, and if he impudently stated that the wreck had taken place on the eastern coast, if he could get Lord Glenarvan to go in this direction, it was because he hoped to separate him from his vessel, seize the Duncan and make this yacht a pirate ship in the Pacific.”

Here the stranger stopped for a moment. His voice trembled but he continued with these words:

“The expedition left and began to cross Australia. It was naturally full of misfortune, since Ayrton or Ben Joyce as we may call him, directed it, sometimes preceded, sometimes followed by his band of convicts, who had been previously told what to do.

“However the Duncan had been sent to Melbourne for repairs. He tried to convince Lord Glenarvan to give him an order directing the Duncan to leave Melbourne to go to the eastern coast of Australia where it would be easy to seize it . After having led the expedition rather close to the coast, in the middle of vast forests where all resources were lacking, Ayrton obtained a letter which he was charged to carry to the second mate of the Duncan, a letter which gave the order for the yacht to proceed immediately to the eastern coast, to Twofold Bay, that is to say a few days travel from the place where the expedition had halted. It was there that Ayrton expected to rendez-vous with his accomplices.

“Just at the moment when the letter was about to be given to him, the traitor was unmasked and there was nothing he could do but flee. But this letter which would put the Duncan under his control, he had to have at all costs. Ayrton succeeded in getting it and two days later he arrived at Melbourne.

“Up to that point the criminal had succeeded in his odious project. If he could lead the Duncan to this Twofold Bay where it would be easy for the convicts to seize it and massacre its crew, Ben Joyce would become the master of the seas... God had to stop him from the accomplishment of these criminal designs.

“Ayrton, arriving at Melbourne, gave the letter to the second, Tom Austin, who, obeying its instructions, got under weigh immediately; but judge the disappointment and rage of Ayrton when the day after weighing anchor, he found that the second was conducting the vessel not to the eastern coast of Australia, to Twofold Bay, but rather to the eastern coast of New Zealand! He objected. Austin showed him the letter!... And in fact, thanks to a providential error made by the French geographer who had drafted the letter, the eastern coast of New Zealand was indicated as the destination.

“Ayrton’s plans had miscarried. He rebelled. They locked him up. He was taken to the coast of New Zealand not knowing what became of his accomplices nor what became of Lord Glenarvan.

“The Duncan cruised along the coast until the 3rd of March. On that day Ayrton heard gunfire. It was the firing of the Duncan’s cannons and soon Lord Glenarvan and all with him came on board.

“This is what had happened.

“After a thousand exertions and a thousand dangers, Lord Glenarvan had been able to complete his journey and arrive at the eastern coast of Australia at Twofold Bay. No Duncan. He telegraphed to Melbourne. They replied: ‘Duncan left on the 18th of this month for an unknown destination.’

“Lord Glenarvan could think of only one thing: that the honest yacht had fallen into the hands of Ben Joyce and that it had become a pirate vessel!

“However Lord Glenarvan did not wish to abandon his undertaking. He was a dauntless and courageous man. He embarked on a merchant vessel which took him to the western coast of New Zealand and crossed it on the 37th parallel without finding any trace of Captain Grant; but on the other coast, to his great surprise and by the will of Heaven, he again found the Duncan under the command of the second mate, waiting for him for five weeks!

“It was the 3rd of March 1855. Lord Glenarvan was now on board the Duncan, but Ayrton was also there. He was summoned to appear before the lord who wanted to extract from him all that the ruffian knew on the subject of Captain Grant. Ayrton refused to speak. Lord Glenarvan told him that at the next port they would put him in the hands of English authorities. Ayrton remained silent.

“The Duncan resumed its journey along the 37th parallel. However Lady Glenarvan undertook to overcome the ruffian’s resistance. Her influence finally swayed him and Ayrton, in exchange for what he could tell, proposed to Lord Glenarvan that they abandon him on one of the islets of the Pacific instead of delivering him to English authorities. Lord Glenarvan, deciding to learn all that he could concerning Captain Grant, consented to it.

“Ayrton then related his entire life and he stated that he knew nothing from the day that Captain Grant had landed him on the Australian Coast.

“Nevertheless Lord Glenarvan kept his word. The Duncan continued on its way and arrived at Tabor Island. It was there that Ayrton would be deposed, and it was also there that, by a true miracle, they found Captain Grant and his two men, precisely on the 37th parallel. The convict was to take their place on this desert islet and just as he was leaving the yacht, Lord Glenarvan made this statement:

“‘Here, Ayrton, you will be far from all land and without any possible communication with your fellow men. You will not be able to escape from this islet on which the Duncan leaves you. You will be alone, under the eye of God, who reads into the depths of the heart, but you will neither be lost nor ignored as was Captain Grant. However unworthy you are to be remembered by men, men will remember you. I know where you are, Ayrton, and I know where to find you. I will never forget it!’

“And the Duncan, getting underway, soon disappeared.

“This was on the 18th of March 1855.[1]

“Ayrton was alone but he lacked neither munitions, nor weapons, nor tools, nor seed. The convict had available to him the house constructed by the honest Captain Grant. It only remained for him to expiate in seclusion the crimes that he had committed.

“Gentlemen, he repented, he was ashamed of his crimes and he suffered. He told himself that if one day men would find him on the islet, he must be worthy to return among them. How the wretch suffered! How he labored to redeem himself through work! How he begged for redemption through prayer!

“And so it was for two or three years; but Ayrton, harassed by isolation, always looked to see if some vessel was in sight on the horizon. He asked himself if his period of expiation would soon be over. He suffered as he had never suffered. Ah! solitude was difficult for a soul undermined by remorse.

“But doubtless Heaven did not find him sufficiently punished. Little by little the wretch felt himself becoming a savage. Little by little he felt brutishness overcoming him. He could not say if it was after two or four years of abandonment, but finally he became the beast that you found.

“I have no need to tell you, gentlemen, that Ayrton, Ben Joyce and I are the same person.”

Cyrus Smith and his companions got up at the end of this recital. It was difficult to say at what point they had become affected. Such misery, such suffering and despair, exposed and bared to them!

“Ayrton,” Cyrus Smith then said, “you have been a hardened criminal but Heaven must certainly find that you have expiated your crimes. It has proved it by returning you to your fellow men. Ayrton, you are pardoned! And now will you be our companion?”

Ayrton drew back.

“Here is my hand,” said the engineer.

“Here is my hand,” said the engineer.

Ayrton rushed toward the hand that Cyrus Smith offered him and large tears flowed from his eyes.

“Do you want to live with us?” asked Cyrus Smith.

“Mister Smith, let me be still some time,” replied Ayrton, “let me be alone in the hut at the corral”

“As you wish, Ayrton,” replied Cyrus Smith.

Ayrton was about to leave when the engineer addressed one last question to him:

“Still another word, my friend. Since your intention was to live in isolation, why did you throw into the sea this document which put us on your trail?”

“A document?” replied Ayrton, who did not appear to understand what they were talking about.

“Yes, this document enclosed in a bottle which we found, which gave the exact position of Tabor Island.”

Ayrton passed his hand over his forehead. Then after having thought about it:

“I never threw any document into the sea!” he replied.

“Never?” cried Pencroff.

“Never.”

Ayrton bowed, went to the door, and left.

1. The events which have been briefly related here are taken from a work which some of our readers have doubtless read and which is entitled The Children of Captain Grant. They will note on this occasion, as well as later, a certain contradiction in the dates; but also later, they will understand why the real dates were not originally given.
(Hetzel’s note)

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Abandoned

Chapter XVIII

Conversation—Cyrus Smith and Gideon Spilett—The engineer’s idea—The electric telegraph—The wires—The battery—The alphabet—Fine season—The colony’s prosperity—Photography—An impression of snow—Two years on Lincoln Island.

HERBERT went to the door. He saw Ayrton slide down the elevator’s rope and disappear into the darkness.

“The poor man!” he said after he returned.

“He will return,” said Cyrus Smith.

“So, Mister Cyrus,” shouted Pencroff, “what do you say to that? If Ayrton did not throw this bottle into the sea, then who did?”

Surely, if ever a question had to be asked, this was it.

“It was he,” replied Neb, “only the poor soul was already half mad.”

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

“That is the only way to explain it, my friends,” Cyrus Smith vividly replied, “and now I understand how Ayrton was able to indicate the exact position of Tabor Island since the very events that preceded his abandonment on the island were known to him.”

“However,” Pencroff noted, “if he still was not a brute when he wrote his document and if it has been seven or eight years since he threw it into the sea, why wasn’t the paper affected by the dampness?”

“That proves,” replied Cyrus Smith, “that Ayrton was deprived of his intelligence much more recently than he thinks.”

“That’s the way it must have happened,” replied Pencroff. “We can’t explain it otherwise.”

“It would be quite unexplainable,” replied the engineer, who did not seem to want to prolong the conversation.

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

“Yes,” replied the reporter. “The story that he has told is true on all points. I clearly recall the accounts in the newspapers of Lord Glenarvan’s undertaking and of the result he attained.”

“Ayrton has told the truth,” added Cyrus Smith, “do not doubt it, Pencroff, because it was bitter for him. One tells the truth when he accuses himself in this way.”

The next day—the 21th of December—the colonists descended to the beach. They climbed to the plateau and no longer found Ayrton there. Ayrton had reached his house in the corral during the night and the colonists judged it best not to disturb him with their presence. Time would doubtless do what encouragements could not.

Herbert, Pencroff and Neb then resumed their accustomed occupations. On this day, Cyrus Smith and the reporter were together in the workshop at the Chimneys.

“Do you know, my dear Cyrus,” said Gideon Spilett, “that the explanation that you gave yesterday on the subject of the bottle has not satisfied me at all. How can we admit that the poor fellow was able to write this document and throw the bottle into the sea without having any memory of it?”

“It was not he who threw it in, my dear Spilett.”

“Then you still believe...”

“I believe nothing, I know nothing!” replied Cyrus Smith, interrupting the reporter. “I am content to rank this incident among those which I have not been able to explain to this day!”

“Truthfully, Cyrus,” said Gideon Spilett, “these things are unbelievable! Your rescue, the case stranded on the sand, Top’s adventures, finally this bottle... Will we ever have some explanation to these enigmas?”

“Yes!” replied the engineer vividly, “yes, if I have to search the very bowels of this island.”

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

“Chance, Spilett! I hardly believe in chance any more than I believe in the mysteries of this world. There is a reason for every unexplainable event that has occurred here and I will find it. But while waiting, let us observe and work.”

The month of January arrived and the year 1867 began. Summer activities were carried on industriously. During the days which followed, Herbert and Gideon Spilett went to the corral and assured themselves that Ayrton had taken possession of the dwelling that they had prepared for him. He occupied himself with the numerous flocks confined to his care which saved his companions the trouble of coming every two or three days to visit the corral. However, in order not to leave Ayrton alone for too long a time, the colonists visited him often.

As a result of certain suspicions shared by the engineer and Gideon Spilett, they felt that this part of the island should be subject to a certain surveillance and that Ayrton should not neglect to inform the inhabitants of Granite House of any unexpected incident.

However, such an incident had to be brought to the engineer’s immediate attention. In addition to all the facts relating to the mystery of Lincoln Island, other things might occur which would call for the prompt intervention of the colonists, such as the appearance of a passing vessel on the open sea in view of the western coast, a wreck on the western shore, the possible arrival of pirates, etc.

Cyrus Smith resolved to put the corral into instantaneous communication with Granite House.

On the 10th of January he told his companions about his plan.

“So, how do you intend to proceed, Mister Cyrus?” asked Pencroff. “Are you by any chance thinking of installing a telegraph?”

“Precisely,” replied the engineer.

“Electric?” shouted Herbert.

“Electric,” replied Cyrus Smith. “We have all the elements necessary for making a battery; the most difficult part will be in drawing the iron wire, but by means of a drawplate I think that we will finally succeed.”

“Well, after that,” replied the sailor, “it wouldn’t surprise me if we rolled out a railroad one day.”

They then got to work and began with the most difficult task, that is to say the making of the wires, because if that should miscarry it would be useless to make the battery and the other accessories.

The iron of Lincoln Island, as we know, was of an excellent quality and consequently very suitable for being drawn. Cyrus Smith began by making a drawplate, that is to say a steel plate pierced by conical holes of various sizes which would successively bring the wire to the desired diameter. This piece of steel, after having been tempered “to maximum hardness” as they would say in metallurgy, was firmly fastened to a frame dug into the ground only a few feet from the large falls, whose motive force the engineer was going to use once again.

In fact, they still had the fulling mill there, then not in operation, but whose shaft, when driven under power, would serve to draw the wire and roll it into coils.

The operation was delicate and demanded much attention. The iron, previously prepared in long thin columns whose ends had been thinned with a file, was introduced into the largest caliber of the drawplate, drawn out by the shaft and rolled to a length of twenty five to thirty feet, then unrolled and successively introduced into the holes of smaller diameter. The engineer finally obtained wires forty to fifty feet long, which were easy to splice so as to stretch over this distance of five miles which separated the corral from the Granite House enclosure.

It only needed a few days to carry out this work and when the machine was put in operation, Cyrus Smith left his companions to their task as wire drawers while he occupied himself with making his battery.

His object, in this case, was to obtain a battery of constant current. As is known, the elements of modern batteries are generally composed of retort carbon, zinc and copper. The engineer definitely had no copper. In spite of his searches, he had not found any trace of it on Lincoln Island and he would have to do without it. Retort carbon, that is to say this hard graphite which is found in the retorts of gas works after coal has been dehydrogenated, this they could produce, but it would require the installation of special apparatus which would have been a big job. As to the zinc, it must be remembered that the case found at Flotsom Point had a double envelope of this metal which could not have found a better use under these circumstances.

After thinking about it, Cyrus Smith decided to make a very simple battery based on one proposed by Becquerel in 1820 in which only zinc is used. As to the other materials, nitric acid and potassium, he had that.

This is how the battery was made. The result would be the products of mutual interaction between the acid and the potassium. A certain number of glass bottles were made and filled with nitric acid. The engineer sealed them by means of a cork through which passed a glass tube. This tube was sealed at its lower end with a clay plug held in place with a cloth and then immersed into the acid. A solution of potassium, previously obtained by the burning of various plants, was poured into the tube from above and by this means the acid and the potassium reacted with each other through the clay.

The engineer sealed them by means of a cork...

Cyrus Smith then took two strips of zinc. One was immersed in the nitric acid and the other in the potassium solution. A current was immediately produced going from the strip in the bottle to the strip in the tube, and the two strips, having been connected with a metallic wire, the strip in the tube became the positive pole and that in the bottle the negative pole of the apparatus. Each bottle produced an equal current which, when combined, sufficed to produce all the phenomena of the electric telegraph.

Such was the ingenious yet very simple apparatus constructed by Cyrus Smith, an apparatus which would allow him to establish telegraphic communication between Granite House and the corral.

It was on the 6th of February that they began to drive in the stakes, furnished with glass insulators designed to support the wire which would follow the route to the corral. A few days later, the wire was stretched out ready to carry the electric current which the ground would return to its starting point at a speed of one hundred thousand kilometers per second.

Two batteries had been made, one for Granite House, the other for the corral, because if the corral ought to be able to communicate with Granite House, it would also be useful for Granite House to communicate with the corral.

As to the receiver and the key, they were very simple. At the two stations, the wire was wrapped as an electro-magnet, that is to say a piece of iron wound with a wire. Communication was established between the two poles by the current which, leaving the positive pole, traversed the wire, passed through the electro-magnet which it temporarily magnetized, and returned through the ground to the negative pole. When the current was interrupted, the electro-magnet would immediately demagnetize. It sufficed then to place a bar of soft iron below the electro-magnet which, attracted to it during the passage of the current, would fall back when the current was interrupted. The movement of the bar thus obtained, Cyrus Smith easily attached a pointer on a swivel, which carried an inscription of the letters of the alphabet and in this way they could communicate from one station to the other.

Everything was completely installed on the 12th of February. On this day Cyrus Smith, having thrown a current across the wire, asked if all was going well at the corral and a few moments later he received a satisfactory response from Ayrton.

Pencroff could not contain his joy. Each morning and each evening he sent a telegram to the corral which always replied.

This mode of communication presented two very real advantages, first because it permitted them to verify the presence of Ayrton at the corral, and then because it did not leave him completely isolated. Besides this, Cyrus Smith never allowed a week to pass without going to see him, and Ayrton came to Granite House from time to time where he was always well received.

The fine season passed in this way amidst their accustomed activity. The resources of the colony had increased from day to day, particularly with vegetables and corn, and the plants that had been brought over from Tabor Island succeeded perfectly. Grand View Plateau presented a very reassuring sight. The fourth corn harvest had been admirable and we may be sure that no one thought of counting if there were four hundred billion grains in the harvest. Cyrus Smith nevertheless advised Pencroff that even if he could count one hundred fifty grains per minute, making nine thousand per hour, he would need about five thousand five hundred years to complete his operation and the worthy sailor decided to give up the idea.

The weather was magnificent and the temperature was very warm in the daytime, but in the evening the breezes from the open sea moderated the summer’s heat and brought cool nights for the inhabitants of Granite House. However they had a few storms which, if they were not of long duration, fell none the less on Lincoln Island with an extraordinary force. For several hours the lightning lit up the sky and the thunder did not let up.

During this time, the small colony was very prosperous. The hosts of the poultry yard had increased to excess and it became urgent to reduce the population to a more moderate number. The pigs had already produced young ones and one can understand that the care given to these animals absorbed a large part of Neb’s and Pencroff’s time. The onagers, who had two pretty offspring, were often mounted by Gideon Spilett and Herbert, who became an excellent horseman under the reporter’s supervision. They also harnessed them to the cart either to carry wood and coal to Granite House or to carry the various mineral products used by the engineer.

Several trips were made at this time into the depths of the forests of the Far West. The explorers could venture there without having to fear the excess temperature because the solar rays hardly pierced the thick branches above them. They also visited the left bank of the Mercy which bordered the route that went from the corral to the mouth of Falls River.

But during these excursions, the colonists took care to be well armed because they frequently encountered certain very savage and very ferocious wild boar with whom they had serious conflicts.

During this time, they also declared war on the jaguars against whom Gideon Spilett had a special grudge. His pupil, Herbert, seconded him. Armed as they were, there was hardly any need to fear an encounter with one of these beasts. Herbert’s fearlessness was superb and the reporter’s coolness was astonishing. About twenty magnificent skins already decorated the large hall of Granite House and if this continued, the jaguar race would soon become extinct on the island, a goal pursed by the hunters.

The engineer sometimes took part in these reconnaissances made in the unknown portions of the island, which he observed with minute attention. It was for traces other than of animals that he looked for in the thickest portions of these vast woods, but never did he see anything suspicious. Neither Top nor Jup, who accompanied him, indicated that there was anything extraordinary there although more than once the dog barked at the opening of the well which the engineer had explored without result.

It was at this time that Gideon Spilett, assisted by Herbert, took several pictures of the most picturesque parts of the island by means of the photographic apparatus that had been found in the case and which had not been used until then.

This apparatus, which was provided with a powerful objective, was very complete. The materials necessary for photographic reproduction, collodion to prepare the glass plate, silver nitrate to sensitize it, sodium hyposulphate to fix the image obtained, ammonium chloride to wash the paper intended to give the positive print, sodium acetate and gold chloride to soak the latter, nothing was missing. Even the paper was there, all chlorinated, and before placing them on the frame over the negative prints, it sufficed to steep them for a few minutes in the silver nitrate diluted with water.

In a short time, the reporter and his assistant became skilful operators and they obtained rather beautiful prints of the countryside, such as a full view of the island taken from Grand View Plateau, with Mount Franklin in the background, the mouth of the Mercy so picturesquely surrounded by high rocks, the glade and the corral against the first high land of the mountain, all the curious development of Cape Claw, Flotsom Point, etc.

The photographers did not forget to take portraits of all the inhabitants of the island without exception.

“Just plain folks,” said Pencroff.

And the sailor was enchanted to see his picture, faithfully reproduced, decorating the walls of Granite House. He joyfully stared at this exposition as if he were in front of the richest showcases of Broadway.

But it must be said, the most successful portrait of all was incontestably that of Master Jup. Master Jup had posed with a seriousness impossible to describe and his picture was expressive.

Master Jup had posed with a seriousness...

“One would say that he was about to grin,” shouted Pencroff.

If Master Jup had not been content, he would have been hard to please; but he was content and he contemplated his image sentimentally and with a bit of self-conceit.

The intense summer heat ended with the month of March. Sometimes they had rainy weather but it was still hot. This month of March, which corresponds to the month of September in the northern latitudes, was not as fine as they had hoped. Perhaps it announced an early and rigorous winter.

They were even able to believe one morning—the 21st—that the first snow had made its appearance. Herbert had gone to one of the Granite House windows at an early hour and shouted:

“Look here, the islet is covered with snow.”

“Snow at this time of the year?” replied the reporter, who had joined the lad.

Their companions were soon beside them and they could only say that not only the islet but the entire shore at the foot of Granite House was covered with a white layer uniformly spread out on the ground.

“It really is snow!” said Pencroff.

“Or it resembles it very much!” replied Neb.

“But the thermometer reads 58° (14°C above zero),” noted Gideon Spilett.

Cyrus Smith looked at the white covering without saying anything because he really did not know how to explain this phenomenon at this time of the year at this temperature.

“A thousand devils!” shouted Pencroff, “our plantations will be frozen!”

And the sailor was about to descend when he was preceded by the agile Jup who slid down to the ground.

But the orang had not touched the ground when the enormous layer of snow rose up and scattered into the sky in such innumerable flocks that the light from the sun was masked for a few minutes.

“Birds,” shouted Herbert.

It was in fact, swarms of sea fowl with brilliant white plumage. They had set down on the islet and on the shore by the hundreds of thousands and they disappeared in the distance, leaving the colonists dumbfounded as if they had witnessed a change from summer to winter in a scene from fairyland. Unfortunately, that change had been so sudden that neither the reporter nor the lad could attack one of these birds whose species they did not recognize.

They had set down by the hundreds of thousands.

The 24th of March came a few days later and it was two years since the castaways from the sky had been thrown on Lincoln Island.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Abandoned

Chapter XIX

Recollections of their native land—Future chances—Proposed survey of the coasts of the island—Departure on the 16th of April—Serpentine Peninsula, a view from the sea—The basalts of the western coast—Bad weather—Night comes on—A new incident.

TWO years already! and for two years the colonists had had no communication with their fellow men. They were without news from the civilized world, lost on this island just as surely as if they had been on some infinitesimal asteroid of the solar system.

What had occurred in their country during this time? The image of their native land was always before them, this land torn asunder by civil war at the moment when they left it. Perhaps it was still bloodied by the South’s rebellion. This was painful for them and they spoke of it often without however doubting that the cause of the North must triumph for the honor of the American federation.

During these two years not a vessel had passed in sight of the island or at least no sail had been seen. It was evident that Lincoln Island was outside the usual ship lanes and even that it was unknown—this was proved by the maps—because though there was no port, vessels would have landed there to renew their provision of fresh water. But the sea which surrounded them was always deserted as far as they could see, and they could only count on themselves for rescue.

However one chance for salvation existed and this chance was discussed one day in the first week of April when the colonists were together in the large hall of Granite House.

They were speaking of their native land, America, and wondering if there was a small hope of seeing it again.

“Decidedly, we have only one way,” said Gideon Spilett, “only one way of leaving Lincoln Island, to construct a vessel large enough to take to the open sea for several hundred miles. It seems to me that if we can make a boat, we can just as well make a ship.”

“Which would go to the Tuamotus,” added Herbert, “the way we went to Tabor Island.”

“I do not say no,” replied Pencroff, who always had the deciding vote on maritime questions. “I do not say no, although a short journey is not the same thing as a long one. If our boat had been menaced by some bad windstorm during our voyage to Tabor Island, we would have known that port was not far off either on one shore or the other; but to cross twelve hundred miles, that’s quite a trip and the nearest land is at least that distance.”

“Would you not chance it, Pencroff, in that case?” asked the reporter.

“I will undertake anything that is required, Mister Spilett,” replied the sailor, “and you well know that I am not a man to hold back.”

“Remember besides, that we now have another sailor amongst us,” noted Neb.

“Who?” asked Pencroff.

“Ayrton.”

“That’s right,” replied Herbert.

“If he would consent to come,” noted Pencroff.

“Fine!” said the reporter, “do you believe that if Lord Glenarvan’s yacht had presented itself at Tabor Island while Ayrton was still living there, that he would have refused to leave?”

“You forget, my friends,” Cyrus Smith then said, “that Ayrton no longer had his sanity during the last years of his stay. But that is not the question. We must know if we can count on the return of the Scotch vessel as one of our chances for rescue. Now Lord Glenarvan had promised Ayrton that he would come to take him from Tabor Island when he judged that his crimes had been sufficiently expiated, and I believe that he will return.”

“Yes,” said the reporter, “and I will add that he will return soon because it is twelve years that Ayrton has been abandoned.”

“Well,” replied Pencroff, “I agree with you that the lord will return, even soon. But where will he land? At Tabor Island and not at Lincoln Island.”

“That is surely the case,” replied Herbert, “since Lincoln Island is not even on the map.”

“So, my friends,” replied the engineer, “we must take the necessary steps to announce our presence and that of Ayrton at Lincoln Island.”

“Evidently,” replied the reporter, “and nothing could be easier than leaving a notice in the cabin used by Captain Grant and Ayrton, giving the position on our island, a notice which Lord Glenarvan and his crew cannot fail to find.”

“It is unfortunate,” noted the sailor, “that we forgot to take this precaution on our first voyage to Tabor Island.”

“And why should we have taken this precaution?” replied Herbert. “At the time we did not know Ayrton’s history. We did not know that they would come one day to rescue him, and when we knew his story the season was too far advanced to allow us to return to Tabor Island.”

“Yes,” replied Cyrus Smith, “it was too late, and we must make this trip next spring.”

“But if the Scotch yacht comes in the meantime?” said Pencroff.

“That is not probable,” replied the engineer, “because Lord Glenarvan would not choose the winter season to venture into these distant seas. Either he has already returned to Tabor Island while Ayrton was with us, that is to say in the last five months, and he has left, or he will come later, and there will be time during the first fine days of October to go to Tabor Island and leave a notice there.”

“It must be admitted,” said Neb, “that it would be very unfortunate if the Duncan has returned to these seas in the last few months.”

“I hope that that is not so,” replied Cyrus Smith, “and that Heaven has not taken from us the best chance that remains for us.”

“I believe,” noted the reporter, “that in any case, we will know what we have to contend with when we return to Tabor Island, because if the Scotchmen have been there, they would have necessarily left some trace of their passage.”

“That is evident,” replied the engineer. “Thus my friends, since we have this chance for being rescued, let us wait patiently, and if it is taken from us we will see then what we must do.”

“In any case,” said Pencroff, “it is well understood that if we leave Lincoln Island by one means or another, it will not be because we find fault with it.”

“No, Pencroff,” replied the engineer, “it will be because we are far from all that a man cherishes most in the world, his family, his friends, and his native land.”

Things being thus decided, there was no longer any question of undertaking the construction of a rather large vessel in order to venture either to the archipelagos in the north or to New Zealand in the west. They occupied themselves only with their usual tasks with the view to wintering in Granite House for the third time.

Nevertheless, it was decided that the boat would be used to take a trip around the island before the bad season came on. The complete reconnaissance of the coasts had still not been accomplished and the colonists had only an imperfect idea of the shore to the west and the north from the mouth of Falls River to the Mandible Capes, not excluding the narrow bay cut between them like the jaw of a shark.

The proposal for this excursion was first suggested by Pencroff, and Cyrus Smith gave his full approval. He wanted to see for himself all of this portion of his domain.

The weather at the time was variable, but the barometer did not fluctuate with sudden changes and they could count on moderate conditions. More precisely, during the first week of April, after a large barometric drop, a return to a rising barometric pressure was indicated by a strong windstorm from the west which lasted five to six days; then the needle of the instrument once again became steady at twenty nine point nine inches (759.45 mm) and the circumstances seemed favorable for the exploration.

The day of departure was fixed for the 16th of April and the Bonadventure, casting off from Port Balloon, was provisioned for a voyage which could be of some duration.

Cyrus Smith told Ayrton about the proposed expedition and suggested that he take part in it, but Ayrton, preferring to remain on land, it was decided that he would come to Granite House during the absence of his companions. Master Jup would accompany him and he made no objection.

On the morning of the 16th of April, all the colonists, accompanied by Top, embarked. A fine breeze blew from the southwest and the Bonadventure tacked on leaving Port Balloon in order to reach Reptile Promontory. Of the ninety miles that comprised the perimeter of the island, there were about twenty from the port to the promontory. It would be necessary to sail close-hauled for these twenty miles because the wind was dead ahead.

They needed not less that an entire day to reach the promontory because the boat, on leaving port, had only two hours of ebb tide and had, on the contrary, six hours of rising tide which made it very difficult to make headway. It was night time when the promontory was doubled.

Pencroff then proposed to the engineer that they continue the journey at reduced speed with two reefs in his sail. But Cyrus Smith preferred to anchor a few cables from land in order to again see this part of the coast during the daytime. It was even agreed that since they were conducting a careful exploration of the island, that they should not sail at night but when evening came they would throw anchor near land when the weather permitted it.

The night thus passed at anchor at the promontory and the wind having fallen with the night, the silence was not disturbed. The passengers, with the exception of the sailor, did not sleep quite as well on board the Bonadventure as they did in their rooms at Granite House, but at last they fell asleep.

The next day, the 17th of April, Pencroff weighed anchor at the break of day and by going on the larboard tack, he was able to draw near the western shore.

The colonists knew this magnificent wooded coast since they had already crossed this shore on foot. Nevertheless, it excited their admiration. By slowing down, they skirted land as close as possible so as to observe everything, but taking care not to collide with several tree trunks that were floating here and there. They even threw anchor several times, and Gideon Spilett took photographs of the superb coast.

Around noon, the Bonadventure arrived at the mouth of Falls River. Further on the right bank, the trees were more scattered and three miles beyond they only appeared in isolated clusters among the mountain’s western buttresses whose arid backbones reached to the shore.

What a contrast between the southern portion and the northern portion of this coastline! As much as one was wooded and verdant, the other was harsh and wild. They could refer to the latter as “the iron coast” as it is called in certain countries. Its tortured arrangement seemed to indicate a true crystallization which had been abruptly produced in the basalt while it was still molten in geological times. Piled up in a frightening way, it would have scared the colonists if they had first been thrown on this part of the island. When they were on the summit of Mount Franklin, they had not been able to recognize the deeply sinister aspect of this coast because they were up too high; but seen from the sea, this shore presented a strange character without equivalent perhaps in any corner of the world.

The Bonadventure passed before this coast at half a mile from shore. It was easy to see that it was composed of blocks of all dimensions, from twenty feet to three hundred feet in height, and of all forms, cylindrical as if made on a lathe, prismatic like steeples, pyramidic like obelisks and conical like a factory smokestack. For sheer horror, an icepack from the glacial seas could not have been more capriciously designed. Here bridges thrown from one rock to another, there arches arranged like the nave of a cathedral into whose depths the eye could not penetrate; in one place there were large excavations whose vaults presented a monumental aspect; in another place a conglomeration of sharp corners, pyramids and arrows such as no gothic cathedral ever had. All the caprices of nature, still more varied than those of the imagination, were arranged along this grandiose coast which extended for a distance of eight to nine miles.

Cyrus Smith and his companions looked at all of this with a surprise that bordered on stupefaction. But if they remained mute, Top was not inhibited from barking. His echoes repeated by the thousands against the basalt wall. The engineer even noted that these barks had something strange about them, like those that the dog had made at the opening of the well in Granite House.

“Let’s come alongside,” he said.

And the Bonadventure grazed as close as possible to the rocks on the coast. Perhaps there was some grotto here that was worth exploring? But Cyrus Smith saw nothing, not a cavern nor a fracture which would serve as a retreat for any being whatsoever because the foot of these rocks was washed by the very surf of the water. Top soon stopped barking and the boat went back to a few cables from shore.

In the northwest portion of the island, the shore became flat and sandy. A few rare trees grew above the low and marshy land that the colonists had already caught a glimpse of and, in violent contrast with the other deserted coast, life was in evidence by the myriads of water fowl.

That evening, the Bonadventure anchored near land in a slight recess of the northern shoreline where the water was deep. The night passed pleasantly because the wind died out, so to speak, with the last rays of daylight, and started up again only at daybreak.

Since it was easy to come alongside land on this morning, the appointed hunters of the colony, that is to say Herbert and Gideon Spilett, took a walk for two hours and returned with several strings of duck and snipe. Top did well and no game was lost thanks to his zeal and his skill.

They returned with several strings of duck.

At eight o’clock in the morning, the Bonadventure weighed anchor and moved rapidly toward North Mandible Cape because the wind was aft and becoming stronger.

“Besides,” said Pencroff, “I will not be surprised if we have a windstorm from the west. Yesterday the sun set on a very red horizon and now this morning these ‘cat tails’ foretell nothing good.”

These cat tails were slender cirrus clouds scattered at the zenith whose height is never less than five thousand feet above sea level. One could call them flimsy pieces of cotton whose presence ordinarily announces some approaching trouble in the weather.

“Well,” said Cyrus Smith, “let us carry as much sail as we are able to carry, and seek refuge in Shark Gulf. I think that the Bonadventure will be safe there.”

“Perfectly,” replied Pencroff, “and besides, the north shore is only formed of dunes and is of little interest.”

“I will not be unhappy,” added the engineer, “to pass not only the night but even tomorrow in this bay which deserves to be carefully explored.”

“I believe that we will be forced to do it whether we like it or not,” replied Pencroff, “because the horizon in the west is becoming menacing. See how dirty it is.”

“In any event, we have a good wind for getting to Cape Mandible,” noted the reporter.

“A very good wind,” replied the sailor, “but to enter the gulf, we must tack and I would rather have a clear view of these unknown waters.”

“Waters which may be full of rocks,” added Herbert, “if we are to judge by what we saw of the southern coast of Shark Gulf.”

“Pencroff,” Cyrus Smith then said, “do what is best. We leave it to you.”

“Be calm, Mister Cyrus,” replied the sailor, “I will not expose myself needlessly. I would rather have a knife in my vital organs than a rock in those of my Bonadventure.”

What Pencroff called vital organs was that part of his boat below the water line and he loved it more than his own skin.

“What time is it?” asked Pencroff.

“Ten o’clock,” replied Gideon Spilett.

“And at what distance are we from the cape, Mister Cyrus?”

“About fifteen miles,” replied the engineer.

“That’s a matter of two hours and a half,” the sailor then said, “and we will come alongside the cape between noontime and one o’clock. Unfortunately, the tide will be reversing at that moment and the ebb will be leaving the gulf. I fear that it will be difficult to enter it having wind and sea against us.”

“What’s more, the moon is full today,” noted Herbert, “and these April tides are very strong.”

“Well, Pencroff,” asked Cyrus Smith, “can you anchor at the cape’s point?”

“Anchor near land with bad weather coming on!” shouted the sailor. “What are you thinking of, Mister Cyrus? That would surely ground us.”

“Then what would you do?”

“I would try to keep in the open sea until the flood tide, that is to say until seven o’clock in the evening, and if there is still some light I will try to enter the gulf; otherwise we will stand off during the entire night and we will enter tomorrow at sunrise.”

“As I said Pencroff, we leave it to you.” replied Cyrus Smith.

“Ah!” said Pencroff, “if there only was a lighthouse on this coast, it would be very convenient for navigators.”

“Yes,” replied Herbert, “and this time we will not have an obliging engineer to light a fire to guide us into port.”

“Incidentally, my dear Cyrus,” said Gideon Spilett, “we never thanked you, but frankly without that fire we never would have been able to reach...”

“A fire?...” asked Cyrus Smith, very astonished at the reporter’s words.

“We mean to say, Mister Cyrus,” replied Pencroff, “that we were in trouble on board the Bonadventure during the final hours preceding our return and we would have passed windward of the island if not for the precaution which you took of lighting a fire during the night of the 19th to the 20th of October on Granite House Plateau.”

“Yes, yes!... That was a happy idea that I had there,” replied the engineer.

“And this time,” added the sailor, “at least if the idea does not occur to Ayrton, there will be no one to render us this small service.”

“No! no one!” replied Cyrus Smith.

And a few moments later, finding himself alone with the reporter in the front of the boat, the engineer bent over to his ear and said to him:

The engineer bent over to his ear and said to him...

“If there is one thing certain in this world, Spilett, it is that I never lit any fire during the night of the 19th to the 20th of October, neither on the plateau of Granite House nor on any other part of the island!”

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Abandoned

Chapter XX

Night at sea—Shark Gulf—Confidences—Preparations for winter—An early winter—Intense frost—Interior Work—After six months—A photographic negative—Unexpected incident.

THINGS happened as Pencroff had anticipated because his forebodings could not be in error. The wind became stronger and from a good wind it changed into a windstorm, that is to say it acquired a velocity of forty to forty five miles per hour and a ship on the high seas would have had its sails reefed and its topgallant sails lowered. Now, since it was about six o’clock when the Bonadventure was at a standstill in the gulf and at this moment the ebb tide was being felt, it was impossible to enter there. They were compelled to remain on the open sea because, even if they wanted to, Pencroff could not even reach the mouth of the Mercy. After having set up his jibsail on the mainmast by way of a storm-jib, he waited while facing his bow toward land.

Very fortunately, if the wind was very strong, the sea, being protected by the coast, did not swell much. They thus had nothing to fear from the waves which are so dangerous to small boats. Doubtless the Bonadventure would not have capsized because it was well ballasted; but enormous blocks of water falling on board could have damaged her if the panels had not resisted. As a skillful sailor, Pencroff was ready for any event. He certainly had much confidence in his boat but none the less he waited for the return of day with a certain anxiety.

During this night, Cyrus Smith and Gideon Spilett had no occasion to speak together but the words pronounced in the reporter’s ear by the engineer well merited further discussion about this mysterious influence which seemed to reign over Lincoln Island. Gideon Spilett did not stop thinking about this new inexplicable incident, about the appearance of fire on the coast of Lincoln Island. He had really seen this fire. His companions, Herbert and Pencroff, had seen it as well as he had. This fire showed them the location of the island on this dark night and they did not doubt that only the hand of the engineer had lit it, and there was Cyrus Smith expressly declaring that he had done no such thing!

Gideon Spilett promised himself that he would discuss this incident after the Bonadventure returned and that he would urge Cyrus Smith to acquaint their companions with these strange events. Perhaps they would then decide to undertake a complete investigation of all parts of Lincoln Island.

Be it as it may, on this evening there was no fire lit on these still unknown shores which formed the entrance to the gulf and the small vessel continued to keep to the open sea during the entire night.

When the first rays of dawn appeared on the eastern horizon, the wind, which went down a little, shifted two points on the compass and allowed Pencroff to enter the narrow entrance to the gulf more easily. About seven o’clock in the morning the Bonadventure, leaving North Mandible Cape behind, carefully entered the pass and chanced upon these waters enclosed by the strangest lava formation.

“There,” said Pencroff, “is a bit of the sea that would make an admirable road where a navy could maneuver at its ease.”

“What is especially curious,” observed Cyrus Smith, “is that this gulf has been formed by two lava flows vomited out by the volcano, which accumulated from successive eruptions. The result is that this gulf is completely protected on all sides and I believe that even in the worst winds the sea is as calm here as on a lake.”

“Doubtless,” replied the sailor, “since the wind only has this narrow between the two capes to get in by, and the north cape protects the south cape in a way that makes it difficult for squalls to enter. In truth, our Bonadventure could remain here from one end of the year to the other without even pulling on its anchors.”

“It is a little too large for it,” noted the reporter.

“Well, Mister Spilett,” replied the sailor, “I agree that it is too large for the Bonadventure, but if the navies of the Union have need of a shelter in the Pacific, I believe that they will never find any better than this road.”

“We are in the shark’s mouth,” Neb then noted, making allusion to the shape of the gulf.

“All the way into the mouth, my brave Neb,” replied Herbert, “but you are not afraid that it will close on us, are you?”

“No, Mister Herbert,” replied Neb, “but nevertheless this gulf does not please me much! It has a wicked look.”

“Fine!” shouted Pencroff, “there is Neb depreciating my gulf just as I was thinking of making a gift of it to America.”

“But at least is the water deep?” asked the engineer, “because what is enough for the hull of the Bonadventure would not suffice for those of our ironclad vessels.”

“That is easy to verify,” replied Pencroff.

And the sailor took the end of a long cord which would serve him as a sounding line, to which was attached an iron block. This line measured about fifty fathoms and it was completely unrolled without reaching bottom.

“So then,” said Pencroff, “our ironclads can come here. They will not be grounded.”

“In fact,” said Cyrus Smith, “this gulf is a real abyss; but taking account of the plutonic origin of the island, it is not astonishing that the bottom of the sea has similar depressions.”

“One would say,” noted Herbert, “that these walls had been cast perpendicularly, and I believe that even with a line five or six times longer, Pencroff would not have found bottom.”

“That is all very good,” the reporter then said, “but I must tell Pencroff that his road lacks one important thing.”

“Which is, Mister Spilett?”

“An opening, any ledge whatever to give access to the interior of the island. I do not see any place on which to set foot.”

And, in fact, the very high sheer lava did not offer a single ledge for disembarking anywhere along the entire perimeter of the gulf. It was an insurmountable curtain which called to mind, but with still more barrenness, the fiords of Norway. The Bonadventure grazed these high walls without finding even a protrusion which would permit the passengers to leave the deck.

Pencroff consoled himself by saying that, with the help of a mine, they would surely know how to make an opening in this wall when that would be necessary but since, decidedly, there was nothing to do in the gulf, he sailed his boat toward the mouth and left it about two o’clock in the afternoon.

“Whew!” said Neb, letting out a sigh of satisfaction.

One could truly say that the worthy negro did not feel at ease in this enormous jaw.

There were barely eight miles between Cape Mandible and the mouth of the Mercy. The bow was then directed toward Granite House and the Bonadventure, with full sails, ran along a mile off shore. The enormous lava rocks were soon succeeded by those capricious dunes where the engineer had been so mysteriously rescued and which the sea birds frequented by the hundreds.

About four o’clock, Pencroff, leaving the point of the islet to his left, entered the channel which separated it from the coast and at five o’clock the Bonadventure’s anchor gripped the sandy bottom at the mouth of the Mercy.

The colonists had been away from their dwelling for three days. Ayrton was waiting for them on the beach and Master Jup was overjoyed, making growls of satisfaction.

An entire exploration of the coasts of the island had thus been made and nothing suspicious had been found. If some mysterious being resided there, he could only be under the cover of the impenetrable woods of Serpentine Peninsula, there where the colonists still had not carried out their investigations.

Gideon Spilett spoke about these things with the engineer and it was agreed that they would draw the attention of their companions to the strange character of certain incidents which had occurred on the island, the last of which was one of the most inexplicable.

Returning again to the incident of a fire lit on the shore by an unknown hand, Cyrus Smith could not restrain himself from saying to the reporter for the twentieth time:

“But are you sure of having seen it? Was it not some partial eruption of the volcano or some meteor?”

“No, Cyrus,” replied the reporter, “it was certainly a fire lit by the hand of man. Besides, question Pencroff and Herbert. They also saw it and they will confirm my words.”

It came to pass then that a few days later, on the evening of the 25th of April, when the colonists were together on Grand View Plateau, that Cyrus Smith said:

“My friends, I feel that I must bring to your attention certain events which have occurred on the island and on the subject of which I should be very glad to have your advice. These events are supernatural so to speak...”

“Supernatural!” shouted the sailor, letting out a puff of smoke. “Can our island be supernatural?”

“No, Pencroff, but surely mysterious,” replied the engineer, “unless you can explain to us that which Spilett and I have not been able to understand up to now.”

“Speak, Mister Cyrus,” replied the sailor.

“Well then, do you understand,” the engineer then said, “how it was that after having fallen into the sea, I was found a quarter of a mile into the interior of the island without remembering being moved there?”

“Perhaps unconsciously...” said Pencroff.

“That is not admissible,” replied the engineer. “But let us pass on. Have you understood how Top was able to discover your retreat, five miles from the grotto where I was lying?”

“A dog’s instinct...” replied Herbert.

“Strange instinct!” noted the reporter, “since in spite of the rain and wind which had been raging during that night, Top arrived at the Chimneys dry and without a speck of mud.”

“Let us pass on,” continued the engineer. “Have you understood how our dog was so strangely thrown out of the water of the lake after his fight with the dugong?”

“No, not really, I admit,” replied Pencroff, “and the wound which the dugong had in its side, a wound which seemed to have been made with a sharp instrument, that also cannot be understood.”

“Let us continue then,” replied Cyrus Smith. “Have you understood, my friends, how that lead bullet was found in the body of the young peccary, how the case was so fortunately stranded without there being any trace of a wreck, how the bottle which enclosed the document was in so convenient a place during our first sea excursion, how our canoe, having broken its mooring, was moved by the Mercy’s current and rejoined us precisely at the moment when we needed it, how after the ape’s invasion, the ladder was so opportunely thrown down to us from Granite House, and finally how the document which Ayrton maintains he never wrote, fell into our hands?”

Cyrus Smith had enumerated the strange events that had occurred on the island, without forgetting a single one. Herbert, Pencroff and Neb looked at each other, not knowing what to say because the succession of these incidents, grouped this way for the first time, surprised them to the highest pitch.

“On my word,” Pencroff finally said, “you are right, Mister Cyrus, and it is difficult to explain these things.”

“Well, my friends,” continued the engineer, “a last fact has been added to these and it is just as incomprehensible as the others.”

“What, Mr. Cyrus,” Herbert asked vividly.

“When you returned from Tabor Island, Pencroff,” continued the engineer, “you said that you saw a fire on Lincoln Island?”

“Certainly,” replied the sailor.

“And are you certain that you saw this fire?”

“Just as I see you.”

“You also, Herbert?”

“Ah! Mister Cyrus,” shouted Herbert, “this fire shone like a star of the first magnitude.”

“But was it not a star?” asked the engineer insistently.

“No,” replied Pencroff, “because the sky was covered with thick clouds and a star, in any case, would not have been so low on the horizon. But Mister Spilett also saw it and he can confirm our words.”

“I will add,” said the reporter, “that this fire was very vivid and that it projected like an electric flame.”

“Yes! yes! exactly...” replied Herbert, “and it was certainly placed on the Granite House heights.”

“Well, my friends,” replied Cyrus Smith, “during the night of the 19th to the 20th of October, neither Neb nor I lit any fire on the coast.”

“You did not?...” shouted Pencroff, full of astonishment, not even able to finish his sentence.

“We did not leave Granite House,” replied Cyrus Smith, “and if a fire appeared on shore, it was lit by another hand than ours.”

Pencroff, Herbert and Neb were stupefied. No illusion was possible. They had really seen a fire during the night of the 19th to the 20th of October.

Yes! They had to agree that a mystery existed. An inexplicable influence, evidently favorable to the colonists, but irritating to their curiosity, was making itself felt at the right moment on Lincoln Island. Was there some being hidden in the deepest retreats? They must know this at any price.

Cyrus Smith also reminded his companions about the strange behavior of Top and Jup around the opening of the well which put Granite House in communication with the sea and he told them that he had explored this well without discovering anything suspicious there. Finally, the conclusion of this conversation was a determination taken by all members of the colony to search the entire island at the return of the fine season.

But from this day on, Pencroff seemed to become anxious. This island that he had made his personal property seemed to no longer belong to him entirely. He felt that he shared it with another master to whom, for better or worse, he was subject to. Neb and he often spoke of these inexplicable things and both, by their very nature, being prone to believing in miracles, were not very far from thinking that Lincoln Island was under the influence of some supernatural power.

The bad weather came on with the month of May—the November of the northern zones. It seemed that the winter would be harsh and premature. Winter activities were undertaken without delay.

Besides, the colonists were well prepared to endure this winter, however hard it might be. There was no lack of felt clothing and the numerous sheep very abundantly furnished the wool needed for making this warm material.

It goes without saying that Ayrton had been provided with these comfortable clothes. Cyrus Smith invited him to come and pass the bad season at Granite House where he would be better lodged than at the corral and Ayrton promised to do so as soon as the final work at the corral would be completed. This he did about mid-April. From this time on, Ayrton shared in the common life and made himself useful on every occasion; but, always humble and sad, he never took part in his companions’ pleasures.

During the greater part of this third winter that the colonists passed on Lincoln Island, they remained confined to Granite House. There were large storms and terrible squalls which seemed to shake the rocks from their foundations. Immense menacing tidal waves covered large parts of the islet and certainly any vessel anchored on shore would have been lost, crew and all. Twice during one of these storms, the Mercy swelled to the point of making them fear that the bridges would not hold and it was even necessary to strengthen the ones on shore which disappeared under the layers of water when the sea beat against the beach.

One would think that such windstorms, comparable to waterspouts mixed with rain and snow, would cause damage to Grand View Plateau. The mill and the poultry yard particularly suffered. The colonists often had to make urgent repairs without which the existence of the birds would have been seriously menaced.

During this bad weather, several jaguars and bands of quadrumanes ventured to the edge of the plateau and it was always to be feared that the stronger and more audacious, driven by hunger, would succeed in crossing the brook which would moreover offer them easy passage when it was frozen. But for continual surveillance, plantations and domestic animals would have been destroyed without fail and they often had to fire their guns to keep these dangerous visitors at a respectable distance. There was no lack of winter activities. Without counting outdoor duties, there were always a thousand things to do at Granite House.

During these severe frosts, there were several good hunts on the vast Tadorn marshes. Gideon Spilett and Herbert, aided by Top and Jup, did not waste a shot among the myriads of duck, snipe, teal, pintail and plovers. Besides, access to the game of this territory was easy and whether they took the road to Port Balloon by crossing over the Mercy bridge or if they doubled the rocks at Flotsom Point, the hunters were never far from Granite House.

So passed the four months of winter which were really rigorous, that is to say June, July, August and September. But in short, Granite House did not suffer much from the bad weather and it was the same at the corral, which being less exposed than the plateau and protected in large part by Mount Franklin, only received what remained of the wind already broken up by the forests and the high rocks on shore. The damage was less significant there and Ayrton’s skill and energy were sufficient to repair it promptly when he returned to pass a few days at the corral during the second half of October.

During this winter, there were no new inexplicable incidents. Nothing strange occurred even though Pencroff and Neb watched for the most insignificant event to which they could ascribe a mysterious cause. Top and Jup themselves no longer prowled around the well nor gave any sign of uneasiness. There seemed to be an interruption in this series of supernatural incidents even though they often spoke of them during the evenings at Granite House and it was fully agreed that the island should be searched even in those parts most difficult to explore. But an event of the greatest gravity and whose consequences could be disastrous, momentarily distracted Cyrus Smith and his companions from their plans.

It was the month of October. The fine season had returned in full measure. Nature was renewing itself under the rays of the sun. Among the evergreen foliage of the conifers which formed the border of the woods, there already appeared the new foliage of nettle trees, banksias and deodars.

It will be recalled that Gideon Spilett and Herbert had taken several photographs of Lincoln Island at various times.

Now on the 17th of October, about three o’clock in the afternoon, Herbert, fascinated by the clearness of the sky, had a notion to photograph all of Union Bay facing Grand View Plateau from Mandible Cape to Cape Claw.

The horizon was admirably delineated and the sea, undulating under a gentle breeze, seemed as still as the waters of a lake, broken here and there with a white spray.

The objective was placed at one of the windows of the large hall in Granite House and consequently it overlooked the beach and the bay. Herbert proceeded in his usual way. After he obtained the negative, he went to fix it by means of substances which were stored in an obscure retreat in Granite House.

Returning to full light, Herbert examined it carefully. He saw a small imperceptible blemish on the sea’s horizon. He tried to make it disappear by washing it a few times but he did not succeed.

“It is a defect in the lens,” he thought.

And then he had the curiosity to examine this imperfection with a strong lens that he removed from one of the telescopes.

But he had barely looked at it when he uttered a cry and the negative almost fell from his hands.

Running immediately to the room where Cyrus Smith was, he held out the negative and the lens to the engineer, indicating to him the small speck.

Cyrus Smith examined this spot; then seizing the telescope he ran toward the window.

Cyrus Smith examined this spot.

The telescope, after slowly sweeping the horizon, finally stopped at the suspicious point and Cyrus Smith, putting it down, merely said, “a vessel.”

And in fact, a vessel was in sight of Lincoln Island!

END OF THE SECOND PART

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Secret of the Island

Chapter I

Lost or saved?—Ayrton recalled—Important discussion—It is not the “Duncan”—Suspicious vessel—Precautions to be taken—The vessel approaches—A cannon shot—The brig anchors in sight of the island—Night comes on.

IN the two and a half years since the castaways of the balloon had been thrown on Lincoln Island, there had been no communication between them and their fellow men. Once the reporter had attempted to put himself in touch with the inhabited world by confiding to a bird a letter which contained the secret of their situation but this was a chance which it was impossible to take seriously. Ayrton alone, under circumstances which we know, had come to join the members of the small colony. Now, here on this very day—the 17th of October—other men appeared unexpectedly in sight of the island on this sea that was always deserted.

There could be no doubt about it! A vessel was there! But would she pass out to sea or would she put into port? In several hours the colonists would evidently know what to expect.

Cyrus Smith and Herbert immediately called Gideon Spilett, Pencroff and Neb into the large hall of Granite House and told them what had happened. Pencroff, seizing the telescope, rapidly scanned the horizon and stopped on the indicated point, that is to say on that which had made the imperceptible blemish on the photographic negative:

“I’ll be damned if it isn’t really a vessel,” he said in a voice that did not denote extraordinary satisfaction.

“Is she coming toward us?” asked Gideon Spilett.

“It’s impossible to say anything yet,” replied Pencroff, “because only her masts appear above the horizon and not a bit of her hull can be seen.”

“What should we do?” asked the lad.

“Wait,” replied Cyrus Smith.

And during this rather long time the colonists remained silent, devoting themselves to all the thoughts, to all the emotions, to all the fears, to all the hopes that this incident could give rise to—the most serious to occur since their arrival on Lincoln Island.

Certainly the colonists were not in the situation of abandoned castaways on a sterile island, who dispute their miserable existence with a cruel nature and are incessantly devoured by this need to see civilization again. Pencroff and Neb especially, who found themselves at this time so happy and so prosperous, would not have left their island without regret. Moreover, they were suited to this new life in the midst of this domain that their intelligence had, so to speak, civilized! In any event this vessel brought news of the world. It was perhaps a fragment of their country coming to meet them! It brought other human beings to them and one can understand that their hearts thrilled at this prospect!

From time to time, Pencroff took the telescope and positioned himself at the window. There he carefully examined the ship which was at a distance of twenty miles to the east. Thus the colonists still had no way to signal their presence. A flag would not have been perceived; an explosion would not have been heard; a fire would not be visible.

However, it was certain that the island, dominated by Mount Franklin, could not escape the attention of the vessel’s lookout. But why was this ship stopping here? Was it simply chance that had brought it to this part of the Pacific, where the maps only mentioned Tabor Island, which was itself outside the routes ordinarily followed by ocean going vessels from the Polynesian archipelagoes, from New Zealand and from the American coast?

To this question which each one asked himself, a response was suddenly made by Herbert.

“Can it be the Duncan?” he cried.

The Duncan, we must not forget, was Lord Glenarvan’s yacht, which had abandoned Ayrton on the islet and which had the duty to return one day to find him there. Now the islet was not so far from Lincoln Island that a ship enroute to one could not pass in view of the other. Only one hundred fifty miles separated them in longitude and seventy five miles in latitude.

“Let us call Ayrton,” said Gideon Spilett, “and tell him immediately. He alone will be able to tell us if it is the Duncan.”

This was everyone’s opinion, and the reporter, going to the telegraphic apparatus which placed the corral and Granite House in communication, sent this telegram.

“Come with all possible speed.”

Several moments later the bell rang.

“I am coming,” replied Ayrton.

Then the colonists continued to watch the vessel.

“If it is the Duncan,” said Herbert, “Ayrton will easily recognize it since he sailed on it for a while.”

“And if he recognizes it,” Pencroff added, “it will make him very emotional!”

“Yes,” replied Cyrus Smith, “but now Ayrton is worthy to return on board the Duncan and may Heaven grant that it is Lord Glenarvan’s yacht because all other vessels would make me suspicious! These are ill used seas and I am always afraid of a visit to our island from some of these evil pirates.”

“We will defend it,” cried Herbert.

“No doubt, my child,” replied the engineer smiling, “but it would be better not to have to defend it.”

“One simple observation,” said Gideon Spilett. “Lincoln Island is unknown to navigators since it is not even noted on the most recent maps. Wouldn’t you say, Cyrus, that it is enough of a reason for a vessel, finding itself unexpectedly in sight of a new land, to visit it rather than to run from it?”

“Certainly,” replied Pencroff.

“I also think that,” added the engineer. “One could even say that it is the duty of a captain to note and consequently to discover all lands or islands that are not already catalogued, and that is the case with Lincoln Island.”

“Well,” Pencroff then said, “let us suppose that this vessel will land and anchor there, several cables from our island, what will we do?”

This blunt question remained at first without an answer. Then, after reflection, Cyrus Smith replied with his usual calm tone:

“This is what we will do, my friends, this is what we ought to do, it is this: We will communicate with the vessel, we will take passage on board, and we will leave our island after having taken possession of it in the name of the States of the Union. Then we will return here with all those who wish to follow us, to colonize it and to present to the American Republic a useful station in this part of the Pacific Ocean.”

“Hurrah,” shouted Pencroff, “and it will be no small gift which we will make to our country! The colonization is almost completed, names have already been given to all parts of the island, it has a natural port, fresh water, roads, a telegraph line, a foundry, and a factory. Nothing has to be done except to inscribe Lincoln Island on the maps!”

“But if someone takes it from us during our absence?” Gideon Spilett asked.

“Damn it,” cried the sailor, “I will stay here all alone to guard it and trust Pencroff, no one will steal it from me like a watch in the pocket of an idler.”

For an hour it was impossible to say with a certainty if the ship was or was not going directly toward Lincoln Island. It was getting closer to it but in what direction was it sailing? This Pencroff could not determine. However, since the wind was blowing from the northeast it was likely that the vessel was sailing on starboard tack. Moreover, the wind was a good one for driving her to the shores of the island and with this calm sea it need not fear to approach even though the soundings were not listed on the map.

About four o’clock—a hour after he had been summoned—Ayrton arrived at Granite House. He entered the large hall and said:

“At your service, gentlemen.”

Cyrus Smith took his hand, as was his custom, and led him to the window:

“Ayrton,” he said to him, “we have asked you to come for an important reason. A ship is in sight of the island.”

At first Ayrton paled slightly and his eyes seemed perplexed for a moment. Then he leaned outside the window and surveyed the horizon but he saw nothing.

“Take this telescope,” said Gideon Spilett, “and look carefully, Ayrton, because it is possible that this vessel is the Duncan coming to these waters to take you home.”

“The Duncan,” murmured Ayrton. “Already!”

This last word escaped Ayrton’s lips involuntarily and his head fell into his hands.

Did not twelve years of abandonment on a desert islet seem to him to be sufficient expiation? Could it be that the repentant criminal still did not feel pardoned neither in his own eyes nor in the eyes of others?

“No,” he said, “no! it cannot be the Duncan.”

“Look, Ayrton,” the engineer then said, “because it is important that we know in advance what we have to contend with.”

Ayrton took the telescope and pointed it in the indicated direction. For a few minutes he observed the horizon without fidgeting, without saying a word. Then:

“It is a vessel in fact,” he said, “but I do not believe that it is the Duncan.”

“It is a vessel in fact,” said Ayrton.

“Why not?” asked Gideon Spilett.

“Because the Duncan is a steam yacht, and I do not see any trace of steam either above or near this ship.”

“Perhaps they are using the sails only?” noted Pencroff. “The wind is right for the direction they seem to be going in, and it would be in their interest to conserve their coal being so far from all land.”

“It is possible that you are right, Mister Pencroff,” replied Ayrton, “and that this vessel has extinguished its fire. Let it come closer to shore and we will soon know what to expect.”

That said, Ayrton sat down in a corner of the large hall and remained silent. The colonists continued their discussion with respect to the unknown vessel, but Ayrton took no part in it.

All found themselves in a mood that would not permit them to continue their work. Gideon Spilett and Pencroff were especially nervous, coming and going and not standing still. Herbert felt curious. Neb alone maintained his usual calm. Wasn’t his country wherever his master was? As to the engineer, he remained absorbed in his thoughts and deep down he feared rather than desired the arrival of this vessel.

However, the ship came a little closer to the island. With the help of the telescope they could see that it was an ocean going ship and not one of these Malayan proas that are usually used by the pirates of the Pacific. They could then allow themselves to believe that the engineer’s apprehensions were not justified and that the presence of this ship in the waters of Lincoln Island did not constitute any danger. After a careful look, Pencroff thought that this vessel was rigged as a brig and that it was sailing obliquely to the coast on a starboard tack, under its lower sails, its topsails and its topgallant sails. This was confirmed by Ayrton.

But if it continued in this direction, it would soon disappear behind Cape Claw because it was sailing to the southwest, and if they wanted to observe it, they must go to Washington Bay heights near Port Balloon. This was an unfortunate circumstance because it was already five o’clock in the afternoon and twilight would soon make all observation difficult.

“What shall we do when night comes?” asked Gideon Spilett. “Shall we light a fire in order to signal our presence on this shore?”

It was a grave question but nevertheless it could not be resolved affirmatively because of the engineer’s misgivings. During the night the vessel could disappear forever and with this vessel gone, would another ever come to Lincoln Island? Who could tell what was in store for the colonists in the future?

“Yes,” said the reporter, “we should let this vessel know, whatever it may be, that the island is inhabited. There will be regrets in the future if we neglect the chance that is offered to us.”

It was thus decided that Neb and Pencroff would go to Port Balloon and that when night came they would light a large fire to attract the attention of the ship’s crew.

But just as Neb and the sailor were preparing to leave Granite House, the ship changed its direction, sailing directly toward Union Bay. This brig was a fast sailer and approached rapidly.

Neb and Pencroff put off their departure and the telescope was put into Ayrton’s hands in order that he could say for sure whether or not this vessel was the Duncan. The Scottish yacht was also rigged as a brig as was this one. The question was then to know if there was a chimney between the two masts of this ship which was then no more than ten miles away.

The horizon was still very clear. The verification was easy and Ayrton soon put the telescope down saying:

“It is not the Duncan. It cannot be it!...”

Pencroff again brought the brig within the field of view of the telescope and he saw that this brig of three to four hundred tons burden was well shaped and firmly masted. It had to be a fast sailer of the seas. But to which nation did it belong? That was difficult to say.

“However,” added the sailor, “a flag is flying from the truck of the mast but I cannot distinguish its colors.”

“In a half-hour we will know this,” replied the reporter. “Besides, it is rather evident that the captain of this vessel intends to land and consequently we will make his acquaintance if not today then tomorrow at the latest.”

“Never mind,” said Pencroff. “It is better to know whom we are dealing with and I will not be sorry to know his colors, particularly this one.”

And, while speaking, the sailor did not leave his telescope.

Day began to fall and with the day the wind from the open sea also fell. The brig’s flag, attached to the halyard, was less unfurled and it became more and more difficult to see it.

“It is not the American flag,” Pencroff said from time to time, “nor the English whose red could easily be seen, nor the French colors nor the German, nor the white flag of Russia, nor the yellow of Spain... One would say that it is of a uniform color... Let us see... in these seas... what does one usually find?... the Chilean flag? but it is tricolor... Brazilian? it is green... Japanese? it is black and yellow... while this one...”

At that moment a breeze unfurled the unknown flag. Ayrton seized the telescope that the sailor had put down, applied it to his eye, and in a hollow voice:

“The black flag,” he shouted.

“The black flag,” shouted Ayrton.

In fact, a dark cloth unfolded from the truck of the brig’s mast and now they had best assume it to be a suspicious vessel.

Were the engineer’s misgivings justified? Was it a pirate ship? Did it scour these lower seas of the Pacific in competition with the Malayan proas that still infested it? What were they seeking on the shores of Lincoln Island? Did they see in this ignored unknown land a hiding place for their stolen cargoes? Had they come looking for a port of refuge for the winter months? Would the colonist’s honest domain be transformed into an infamous refuge—a sort of capital for the pirates of the Pacific?

Instinctively these thoughts occurred to the colonists. Besides, there was no doubt about the significance to be attached to the color of the hoisted flag. It certainly was one of these scourers of the sea. This is what would have become of the Duncan if the convicts had succeeded with their criminal projects.

They lost no time in discussing it.

“My friends,” said Cyrus Smith, “perhaps this vessel only wishes to observe the shore of the island. Perhaps its crew will not land. There is a chance of that. Be it as it may, we must do everything to conceal our presence here. The windmill on Grand View Plateau is easy to recognize. Let Ayrton and Neb take down the arms. Let us also hide the windows of Granite House under thick branches. Let all fires be extinguished. Nothing must betray the presence of man on this island.”

“And our boat?” said Herbert.

“Oh!” replied Pencroff, “she is sheltered in Port Balloon and I defy these scoundrels to find her there.”

The engineer’s orders were immediately executed. Neb and Ayrton climbed the plateau and took the necessary measures to conceal any indications of human presence. While they were occupied with this task, their companions went to the border of Jacamar Woods and brought back a large quantity of branches and creepers which, from a distance, would look like natural foliage, to conceal the windows in the granite wall. At the same time, the munitions and the weapons were placed so they could be used at a moment’s notice in case of an unexpected attack.

When all these precautions had been taken:

“My friends,” said Cyrus Smith—and they sensed the emotion in his voice—“if these wretches attempt to seize Lincoln Island, we will defend it, is that not so?”

“Yes, Cyrus,” replied the reporter, “and if need be, we will all die to defend it.”

The engineer shook the hands of his companions who pressed his effusively.

Ayrton alone remained in his corner, not joining the colonists. Perhaps the former convict still felt unworthy.

Cyrus Smith understood what was passing in Ayrton’s soul and he went to him.

“And you, Ayrton,” he asked him, “what will you do?”

“My duty,” replied Ayrton.

Then he stationed himself near the window and looked through the foliage.

It was then seven thirty. The sun had already set about twenty minutes ago behind Granite House. Consequently the eastern horizon would become darker little by little. Nevertheless the brig continued to advance toward Union Bay. It was now not more than eight miles away and exactly opposite Grand View Plateau because, after having changed direction off Cape Claw, it had gone north taking advantage of the current produced by the rising tide. One could even say that at this distance it had already entered the vast bay because its starboard quarter was to the west of a straight line drawn from Cape Claw to Cape Mandible.

Would the brig go well into the bay? That was the first question. Once in the bay, would it anchor there? That was the second. Would they merely be content to observe the shore and return to sea without landing the crew? This they would know in an hour. The colonists could only wait.

Cyrus Smith had not seen the suspicious vessel unfurl its black flag without a deep anxiety. Was it not a direct menace against the work that his companions and he had accomplished so well up to that time? The pirates—there could be no doubt that such was the crew of the brig—had they already frequented this island, since they had raised their colors upon coming within sight of land? Had they been here previously, which would explain certain peculiarities that were still without explanation? Did there exist some accomplice in the still unexplored portions who was ready to enter into communication with them?

Cyrus Smith did not know how to reply to all these questions that he asked himself silently; but he sensed that the colony’s situation could only be gravely compromised by the arrival of this brig.

Nevertheless, his companions and he had decided to resist them to the end. Were these pirates numerous and better armed than the colonists? It would be very important to know this! But how could they get this information?

It was night. The new moon, carried away by the solar rays, had disappeared. A deep obscurity enveloped the island and the sea. Heavy clouds had accumulated on the horizon, allowing no light to filter through. The wind had fallen completely with the twilight. Not a branch stirred among the trees and not a wave murmured on the beach. They saw nothing of the vessel, its fires being restrained, and if it was still in view of the island, they did not even know where it was.

“Well, what do you know?” Pencroff then said. “Perhaps this damn ship will have gone on its way during the night and we will no longer find it at daybreak.”

As if in response to the sailor’s remark, a bright flash appeared at sea and a cannon resounded.

The vessel was still there and it had artillery pieces on board.

Six seconds elapsed between the flash and the roar.

Therefore the brig was approximately a mile and a quarter from shore.

And at the same time they heard the noise of chains grating through the hawse-holes.

The vessel had anchored in sight of Granite House!

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND

Third Part

THE SECRET OF THE ISLAND

Chapter I

Lost or saved?—Ayrton recalled—Important discussion—It is not the Duncan—Suspicious vessel—Precautions to be taken—The vessel approaches—A cannon shot—The brig anchors in sight of the island—Night comes on.

Chapter II

Discussions—Misgivings—Ayrton's proposition—They accept it—Ayrton and Pencroff on Grant Islet—Convicts from Norfolk—Their plans—Ayrton's heroic attempt—His return—Six against fifty.

Chapter III

The fog lifts—The engineer's arrangements—Three posts—Ayrton and Pencroff—The first boat—Two more boat loadings—On the islet—Six convicts on land—The brig raises anchor—The projectiles from the “Speedy”—Desperate situation—An unexpected denouement.

Chapter IV

The colonists on the beach—Ayrton and Pencroff work at salvaging—Gossip during lunch—Pencroff's remarks—Close inspection of the brig's hull—Intact storeroom—New riches—The last of the debris—A piece of broken cylinder.

Chapter V

The engineer's assertions—Pencroff's grandiose hypotheses—An aerial battery—Four projectiles—On the subject of the surviving convicts—Ayrton's hesitation—Cyrus Smith's generous sentiments—Pencroff apologizes.

Chapter VI

Expedition plans—Ayrton at the corral—Visit to Port Balloon—Remarks made by Pencroff on board the Bonadventure—Dispatch sent to the corral—No reply from Ayrton—Departure the next day—Why the telegraph no longer functioned—A detonation.

Chapter VII

The reporter and Pencroff in the corral—Herbert transported—The sailor's despair—Consultation between the reporter and the engineer—Mode of treatment—They recover some hope—How to warn Neb?—A reliable and faithful messenger—Neb's reply.

Chapter VIII

The convicts in the neighborhood of the corral—Temporary arrangements—Continuation of Herbert's treatment—Pencroff's first jubilations—Reviewing the past—What is in store for the future—Cyrus Smith's ideas on this subject.

Chapter IX

They are without news from Neb—A proposal by Pencroff and by the reporter which is not accepted—Some sorties by Gideon Spilett—A piece of material—A message—Hasty departure—Arrival at Grand View Plateau.

Chapter X

Herbert carried to Granite House—Neb relates what occurred—Cyrus Smith's visit to the plateau—Ruin and devastation—The colonists are disarmed by the malady—Willow bark—Mortal fever—Top barks again!

Chapter XI

Inexplicable mystery—Herbert's convalescence—Parts of the island to explore—Preparations for departure—The first day—Night—Second day—The kauris—The cassowary couple—Footprints in the forest—Arrival at Reptile Promontory.

Chapter XII

Exploration of Serpentine Peninsula—Encampment at the mouth of Falls River—Six hundred feet from the corral—Gideon Spilett's and Pencroff's reconnaissance—Their return—Everyone moves forward—An open door—A lighted window—By the light of the moon!

Chapter XIII

Ayrton's account—Plans of his former accomplices—Their installation at the corral—The judge of Lincoln Island—The Bonadventure—Search around Mount Franklin—Upper valleys—Subterranean noises—Pencroff's response—At the bottom of the crater—Return.

Chapter XIV

Three years have passed—The question of the new vessel—What is resolved—Prosperity of the colony—The shipyard—The frosts of the southern hemisphere—Pencroff is resigned—Bleaching the linen—Mount Franklin.

Chapter XV

The awakening of the volcano—The fine season—Resuming work—The evening of the 15th of October—A telegram—A request—A response—Departure for the corral—The note—The supplementary wire—Basalt coast—High tide—Low tide—The cavern—A dazzling light.

Chapter XVI

Captain Nemo—His first words—The story of one of the heros of independence—Hatred of the invaders—His companions—Submarine life—Alone—The last refuge of the “Nautilus” at Lincoln Island—The mysterious genie of the island.

Chapter XVII

Captain Nemo's last hours—The wishes of the dying man—A souvenir to his friends of a day—Captain Nemo's coffin—Some advice to the colonists—The supreme moment—At the bottom of the sea.

Chapter XVIII

Everyone's thoughts—Resuming construction activity—The 1st of January 1868—A trail of smoke at the top of the volcano—First symptoms of an eruption—Ayrton and Cyrus Smith at the corral—Exploration of Dakkar Crypt—What Captain Nemo told the engineer.

Chapter XIX

Cyrus Smith's account of his exploration—They speed up the construction—A last visit to the corral—The battle between fire and water—What remains of the surface of the island—They decide to launch the vessel—The night of the 8th to the 9th of March.

Chapter XX

An isolated rock in the Pacific—The last refuge of the colonists of Lincoln Island—Death in view—Unexpected help—Why and how it came—The last benefaction—An island on firm ground—The tomb of Captain Nemo.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har'El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:42 $

The Mysterious Island: The Secret of the Island

Chapter II

Discussions—Misgivings—Ayrton’s proposition—They accept it—Ayrton and Pencroff on Grant Islet—Convicts from Norfolk—Their plans—Ayrton’s heroic attempt—His return—Six against fifty.

THERE was no longer any doubt about the pirates’ intentions. They had thrown anchor a short distance from the island and it was evident that the next day, by means of their boats, they would come ashore.

Cyrus Smith and his companions were ready to act but, determined as they were, they must not forget to be prudent. Perhaps their presence could still be concealed in the event that the pirates would be content to land on shore without venturing into the island’s interior. Their only purpose might be to draw fresh water from the Mercy and it was not impossible that the bridge, thrown a mile and a half from the mouth, and the arrangements at the Chimneys, would escape their notice.

But why this flag flying from the truck of the brig’s mast? Why the firing of the cannon? Pure boasting doubtless, unless it indicated taking possession. Cyrus Smith now knew that the vessel was well armed. What did the colonists of Lincoln Island have to reply to the pirates’ cannon? Merely a few guns.

“Nevertheless,” Cyrus Smith noted, “we are in an impregnable position here. The enemy cannot discover the opening of the passageway now that it is hidden under reeds and grass, and consequently it will be impossible for him to penetrate into Granite House.”

“But our plantations, our poultry yard, our corral, everything,” shouted Pencroff, stamping his foot. “They can ravage everything, destroy everything in a few hours.”

“Everything, Pencroff,” replied Cyrus Smith, “and we have no way to prevent it.”

“Are they numerous? That is the question,” the reporter then said. “If there are only a dozen or so we will know how to stop them, but forty, fifty, more perhaps...”

“Mister Smith,” Ayrton then said, advancing toward the engineer, “will you grant me leave?”

“For what, my friend?”

“To go to the vessel to determine the size of her crew.”

“But Ayrton...” replied the engineer, hesitating, “you will risk your life...”

“Why not, sir?”

“That is more than your duty.”

“I have more than my duty to do,” replied Ayrton.

“You will go to the vessel with the canoe?” asked Gideon Spilett.

“No, but I will swim. A man can glide between the waves while a canoe cannot.”

“Do you realize that the brig is a mile and a quarter from shore?” said Herbert.

“I swim well, Mister Herbert.”

“I tell you that you will risk your life,” the engineer repeated.

“My life is of no value,” replied Ayrton. “Mister Smith, I ask this of you as a favor. It is perhaps a way for me to gain respect for myself.”

“Go, Ayrton,” replied the engineer, who sensed that a refusal would deeply hurt the former convict, who was now an honest man.

“I will accompany you,” said Pencroff.

“You mistrust me?” Ayrton replied vividly.

Then more humbly:

“Alas!”

“No, no,” Cyrus Smith said, “no, Ayrton! Pencroff does not mistrust you. You misinterpret his words.”

“As a matter of fact,” replied the sailor, “I propose to accompany Ayrton only to the islet. It is possible, though not probable, that one of these rascals has set foot there and in that case two men will not be too many for preventing him from giving the alarm. I will wait for Ayrton on the islet and he alone will go to the vessel since this is his wish.”

This agreed, Ayrton made preparations for his departure. His plan was audacious but it could succeed thanks to the obscurity of the night. Once he reached the ship, Ayrton could catch on either to the bob-stays or to the shroud chains. He could determine their number and perhaps overhear the intentions of the convicts.

Ayrton and Pencroff, followed by their companions, descended to the beach. Ayrton undressed and rubbed himself with grease so as to lessen the effect of the water’s temperature which was still cold. In fact, he might be obliged to remain in it for several hours.

During this time, Pencroff and Neb went to find the canoe, moored a few hundred feet higher up on the banks of the Mercy, and when they returned, Ayrton was ready to leave.

A cloak was thrown over Ayrton’s shoulders and the colonists came to clasp his hand.

Ayrton got into the canoe with Pencroff.

It was ten thirty in the evening when the two disappeared into the darkness. Their companions went to the Chimneys to wait for them.

The channel was easily crossed and the canoe reached the opposite shore of the islet. This was done cautiously in case some pirates were prowling about. But it appeared that the islet was deserted. Ayrton, followed by Pencroff, quickly crossed it, scaring off some birds nested in the cavities in the rocks; then without hesitation, he threw himself into the water and swam noiselessly in the direction of the vessel, whose recently lit lights indicated its exact position.

As for Pencroff, he crouched behind a twist in the shoreline and waited for his companion’s return.

Ayrton swam with a vigorous stroke and glided across the sheet of water without producing the slightest quiver. His head barely emerged and his eyes were fixed on the dark mass of the brig whose lights were reflected in the water. He thought only of the task that he had promised to accomplish. He did not even consider the dangers that he ran not only on board the vessel but also in the waters which were often frequented by sharks. The current carried him and he rapidly moved away from the shore.

He took a breath and climbed the chains...

A half-hour later Ayrton, without having been seen or heard, drew alongside the vessel and caught on to the bob-stays of the bowsprit. He took a breath, climbed the chains and reached the top of the cutwater. There several sailors’ trousers were drying. He put on a pair. Then, settling down, he listened.

Settling down, Ayrton listened.

No one was asleep on board the brig. On the contrary, they were talking, singing and laughing. And this is the talk, accompanied by oaths, overheard by Ayrton:

“Our brig is a fine prize!”

“The Speedy sails well. It merits its name.”

“It can outdistance the entire navy of Norfolk.”

“Hurrah for its commander.”

“Hurrah for Bob Harvey.”

We can understand how Ayrton felt on hearing this fragment of conversation, when we realize that Bob Harvey was one of his former companions in Australia, an audacious sailor who had continued with his criminal activities. In the waters around Norfolk Island, Bob Harvey had seized this brig which was loaded with arms, munitions, utensils and tools of all sorts, destined for one of the Sandwich Islands. His entire gang went on board and, becoming pirates after having been convicts, they scoured the Pacific, destroying vessels and massacring their crews with more ferocity than the Malays themselves.

The convicts shouted and boasted about their deeds while drinking to excess and this is what Ayrton discovered:

The actual crew of the Speedy was composed solely of English prisoners who had escaped from Norfolk.

Now this is what Norfolk is:

At 29° 2′ south latitude and 167° 57′ east longitude, to the east of Australia, there is a small island six leagues in circumference which is dominated by Mount Pitt, rising to a height of eleven hundred feet above sea level. This is Norfolk Island, turned into an establishment for the jailing of the most intractable convicts of the English penitentiaries. There are five hundred of them, subject to an iron discipline and terrible punishments, and guarded by one hundred fifty soldiers and one hundred fifty employees under the orders of a governor. It would be difficult to imagine a worse group of criminals. Sometimes—though this is rare—in spite of the excessive surveillance to which they are subject, some escape, seize vessels by surprise, and then scour the Polynesian Archipelagoes.

Such were Bob Harvey and his companions. Such had Ayrton once wished to be. Bob Harvey had seized the Speedy, anchored in sight of Norfolk Island; the crew had been massacred and for a year now this vessel, now a pirate ship, had scoured the Pacific seas under the command of Harvey, formerly a master mariner, now a pirate of the seas and well known to Ayrton.

The convicts were for the most part gathered on the poop deck to the rear of the vessel but a few were stretched out on the bridge, shouting.

The conversation continued amidst shouting and drinking. Ayrton learned that chance alone had brought the Speedy within sight of Lincoln Island. Bob Harvey had never set foot on it but, as Cyrus Smith had feared, finding himself near an unknown land, unmarked on any map, he thought of visiting it, and if suitable, he would make it the brig’s home port.

As to the black flag unfurled from the truck of the Speedy’s mast and the firing of the cannon, that was pure bragging on the part of the pirates, following the example of warships when they lower their colors. It was not a signal and no communication existed between Lincoln Island and the escapees of Norfolk.

The domain of the colonists was menaced by an immense danger. Evidently the island, with its easy access to fresh water, its small port, its resources of all sorts so increased in value by the colonists, and the hidden retreats of Granite House, would be suitable for the convicts; in their hands it would become an excellent place of refuge and because it was unknown, it would assure them, for a long time perhaps, impunity with security. It was also evident that the colonists’ lives would not be respected and that the first concern of Bob Harvey and his companions would be to massacre them without mercy. Cyrus Smith and his men did not even have the option of fleeing and hiding themselves on the island since the convicts intended to live there and in the event that the Speedy would leave on an expedition, it was probable that some of the crew would remain on land in order to look after things. Thus they must fight them and destroy them to the last man. They deserved no pity and any methods used against them would be justified.

Those were Ayrton’s thoughts and he well knew that Cyrus Smith shared his viewpoint.

But was resistance and victory in the end possible? That depended on the brig’s armament and the number of men that she carried.

It was this that Ayrton resolved to determine at any cost, and since an hour after his arrival things began to quiet down and a good number of the convicts were already in a drunken stupor, Ayrton did not hesitate to venture onto the deck of the Speedy which the extinct lanterns then left in deep darkness.

He hoisted himself on the cutwater and by the bowsprit he reached the brig’s forecastle. He glided among the convicts stretched out here and there. He made a tour of the ship and discovered that the Speedy was armed with four cannons which could fire balls of eight to ten pounds. By touching them he even verified that these cannons were breech loaders. Thus they were modern weapons, easy to use and terrible in effect.

As to the men lying about the deck, they numbered about ten but it was to be supposed that others, more numerous, were sleeping inside the brig. Besides, on listening to them, Ayrton was led to believe that there were about fifty on board. That was a lot for the six colonists of Lincoln Island. But thanks to Ayrton’s devotion, Cyrus Smith would not be surprised. He would know the strength of his adversaries and make arrangements in consequence.

It now remained for Ayrton to return to render an account to his companions of the mission with which he was charged and he prepared to go to the forward part of the brig in order to glide down to the sea.

But, as he had said, he wanted to do more than his duty, and an heroic idea then came to him. It was to sacrifice his life, but he would save the island and the colonists. Cyrus Smith evidently could not resist fifty bandits armed with all kinds of weapons who, whether they penetrated Granite House by force or starved out the besieged, would overcome them. And then he thought of his saviors, those who had remade him into a man and an honest man at that, those to whom he owed everything, they being killed without pity, their work utterly destroyed, their island changed into a pirate’s retreat! He told himself that he, Ayrton, was the original cause of these disasters since otherwise his old companion, Bob Harvey, would not have realized his very own plans. A sentiment of horror then took hold of his entire being and he was seized by an irresistible desire to blow up the brig, himself and all those that it carried. Ayrton would perish in the explosion but he would have done his duty.

Ayrton did not hesitate. It was easy to reach the powder room which is always situated to the rear of a ship. There would be no lack of powder on a vessel made for this business, and a spark would suffice to annihilate it in an instant.

Ayrton carefully slid down between decks where numerous sleepers were strewn about, weighed down more from drunkenness than slumber.

There was a lighted lantern at the foot of the grand mast around which was suspended a rack furnished with firearms of all sorts.

Ayrton took a revolver from the rack and assured himself that it was loaded and primed. He needed nothing more to accomplish his work of destruction. He then glided to the rear so as to arrive under the poop deck where the storeroom ought to be.

However, on this between decks level, which was rather dark, it was difficult to move about without jostling some convict not fully asleep. Between oaths and jabs, Ayrton was more than once forced to suspend his advance. But finally he reached the partition that enclosed the rear compartment and he found the door that would open into the very storeroom.

Ayrton was reduced to forcing it and set about the task. It was difficult to accomplish this without noise because he had to break a padlock. But under Ayrton’s vigorous hand the padlock was sprung and the door was opened...

At this moment, Ayrton felt an arm on his shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” asked a tall man in a harsh voice who, standing in the shadows, projected the light of a lantern onto Ayrton’s figure.

Ayrton drew back. In a quick glare from the lantern, he recognized his former accomplice, Bob Harvey, but he could not have been recognized by him, believing him to be long since dead.

“What are you doing here?” said Bob Harvey, seizing Ayrton by the belt of his trousers.

“What are you doing here?” said Bob Harvey.

But without replying, Ayrton shoved the pirate chief back and tried to get into the storeroom. One shot of the revolver into these tons of powder and all would be over!

“Help, lads!” shouted Bob Harvey.

Two or three pirates, awakened by his voice, threw themselves on Ayrton, trying to bring him down. Ayrton shook them off. Two shots from his revolver resounded and two convicts fell; but a knife stab that he could not parry cut a gash on his shoulder.

Ayrton realized that he could not carry through his plan. Bob Harvey had locked the door of the storeroom and Ayrton sensed that everyone on board was awakening. It was necessary for Ayrton to save himself to fight by Cyrus Smith’s side. There remained nothing for him to do but to escape.

But was escape still possible? That was uncertain but Ayrton intended to do everything to rejoin his companions.

He still had four shots left. Two were fired, one of which was directed at Bob Harvey. It did not hit him, at least not seriously. His adversaries drew back and Ayrton profited from this movement by running toward the ladder leading up to the deck of the brig. Passing in front of a lantern he broke it with the butt of his revolver. The resulting darkness favored his escape.

Two or three pirates, aroused by the noise, were coming down the ladder at this moment. A fifth shot from Ayrton’s revolver threw one down and the others drew back, not understanding what was going on. In two leaps Ayrton was on the deck of the brig and three seconds later, after having discharged his revolver for the last time into the face of a pirate who was about to seize him by the throat, he leaped over the bulwarks and plunged into the sea.

He leaped over the bulwarks and plunged...

Ayrton had not made six strokes when shot was crackling all around him like a hailstorm.

What must have been the emotions of Pencroff, sheltered beneath a rock on the islet, and those of Cyrus Smith, of the reporter, of Herbert and of Neb huddled at the Chimneys, when they heard these detonations on board the brig. They ran to shore and, with their weapons to their shoulders, were ready to repel any attack.

There was no doubt for them. Surprised by the pirates, Ayrton had been massacred by them and perhaps these wretches would profit by the night to descend on the island.

A half hour passed in extreme apprehension. The detonations however had ceased and neither Ayrton nor Pencroff had reappeared. Had the islet been invaded? Should they run to bring help to Ayrton and to Pencroff? But how? The tide, being high at the moment, made it impossible to cross the channel. The canoe was no longer there. One can imagine the terrible uneasiness which took hold of Cyrus Smith and his companions.

Finally, about a half hour past midnight, a canoe carrying two men drew alongside the shore. It was Ayrton, slightly wounded in the shoulder, and Pencroff, safe and sound, whom their companions received with open arms.

Everyone immediately took refuge in the Chimneys. There Ayrton related what had occurred, not hiding his plan to blow up the brig which he had tried to put into execution.

All hands were held out to Ayrton who did not conceal how serious the situation was. The pirates had been forewarned. They knew that Lincoln Island was inhabited. They would descend en masse and well armed. They respected nothing. If the colonists fell into their hands, no pity would await them.

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

“Let us return to our posts and keep on guard,” replied the engineer.

“Do we have some chance of pulling through, Mister Cyrus?” asked the sailor.

“Yes, Pencroff.”

“Hm! Six against fifty!”

“Yes, six... without counting...”

“Who?” asked Pencroff.

Cyrus did not reply but pointed upward.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Secret of the Island

Chapter III

The fog lifts—The engineer’s arrangements—Three posts—Ayrton and Pencroff—The first boat—Two more boat loadings—On the islet—Six convicts on land—The brig raises anchor—The projectiles from the “Speedy”—Desperate situation—An unexpected denouement.

THE night passed without incident. The colonists remained on the alert, not abandoning their post at the Chimneys. On their side, the pirates did not seem to have made any attempt to land. After the last shots had been fired at Ayrton, there were no detonations, not even a noise to reveal the presence of the brig on the approaches to the island. In a strict sense they could have believed that it had raised anchor, thinking that they had to deal with a powerful opponent, and were far from these waters.

But that was not so because at daybreak the colonists were able to catch a glimpse of a confused mass through the morning fog. It was the Speedy.

“Here, my friends,” the engineer then said, “are the arrangements which seem to me to be the best to make before the fog lifts completely. It hides us from the eyes of the pirates so we must act without arousing their attention. What is especially important is to lead the convicts to believe that there are many inhabitants on the island who consequently are capable of resisting them. I therefore propose to you that we divide into three groups, the first posted here at the Chimneys, and the second at the mouth of the Mercy. As to the third, I think that it would be best to place it on the islet in order to repel or at least to delay any attempt to land. We have for our use two carbines and four rifles. Each of us will thus be armed and since we are well provided with powder and shot, we will not spare our ammunition. We have nothing to fear from their rifles nor even from the brig’s cannons. What can they do against these rocks? and since we will not be firing from the windows of Granite House, the pirates will not think of sending any shells there, which could cause irreparable damage. What is to be feared is if hand to hand combat becomes necessary since the convicts have numbers on their side. We must hence resist any attempt to land without revealing ourselves. So do not economize on the ammunition. Fire often but accurately. Each of us has eight or ten enemies to kill and kill them he must.”

Cyrus Smith had sized up the situation clearly, all the while speaking in a calm voice as if he were supervising some job and not directing a battle. His companions approved these arrangements without saying a word. He had no need to tell everyone to go to his post before the fog was completely dissipated.

Neb and Pencroff immediately went to Granite House and brought back sufficient munitions. Gideon Spilett and Ayrton, both good shots, were armed with precision carbines which carried to nearly a mile. The four other guns were distributed to Cyrus Smith, Neb, Pencroff and Herbert.

The posts were assigned as follows.

Cyrus Smith and Herbert remained posted at the Chimneys so as to command the shore at the foot of Granite House over a rather large radius.

Gideon Spilett and Neb went to crouch among the rocks at the mouth of the Mercy—the bridge there as well as the other bridges had been lifted—their purpose to repel any passage by boat and even any landing on the opposite shore.

As to Ayrton and Pencroff, they crossed the channel with the canoe to occupy two separate posts on the islet. In this way there would be firings from four different points and the convicts would think that the island had sufficient people to defend it well.

In the event that they were unable to repel a landing or even if they were at the point of being outflanked by some boat from the brig, Pencroff and Ayrton would return with the canoe, setting foot on shore to go to the most menaced area.

Before going to their posts, the colonists shook hands for a last time. Pencroff succeeded in mastering his emotions when he embraced Herbert, his child!... then they parted.

A few minutes later, Cyrus Smith and Herbert on the one side and the reporter and Neb on the other, had disappeared behind some rocks, and five minutes later Ayrton and Pencroff, having successfully crossed the channel, set foot on the islet and hid themselves behind some windings of the eastern shore.

No one could have been seen because they themselves could still barely distinguish the brig in the fog.

It was six thirty in the morning.

Little by little the fog broke up and the truck of the brig’s mast emerged. For a few moments large volutes still circulated on the surface of the sea; then a breeze rapidly dissipated the haze.

The Speedy appeared in full view, moored with two anchors, its bow pointed north, presenting its portside quarter to the island. Cyrus Smith estimated that it was not more than a mile and a quarter from shore.

The sinister black flag flew from the truck of the mast.

With his telescope, the engineer could see that the four cannons which comprised the vessel’s artillery had been pointed toward the island. It was evidently ready to fire at the first signal.

However the Speedy remained silent. One could see about thirty pirates moving about on the bridge. Several had gone up to the poop deck; two others, posted at the large topgallant and provided with telescopes, were carefully observing the island.

Certainly Bob Harvey and his crew could account for what had happened on board during the night only with great difficulty. This half nude man who came to force the door of the powder storeroom, against whom they had fought, who had discharged his revolver six times, who had killed one of their number and wounded two others, had this man escaped their shots? Had he been able to swim back to shore? Where did he come from? How did he get on board? Was his intent really to blow up the brig as Bob Harvey thought? All this had to be very confusing for the convicts. But this they could no longer doubt, that the unknown island before which the Speedy had thrown anchor, was inhabited and that perhaps there was an entire colony ready to defend it. Nevertheless no one showed himself, neither on shore nor on the heights. The shore appeared to be absolutely deserted. In any event, there was no trace of a dwelling. Had the inhabitants fled to the interior?

That was the question asked by the pirate chief and doubtless, as a prudent man, he would explore the neighborhood before engaging his forces.

For an hour and a half there was no indication on board the brig of preparations for an attack or a landing. It was evident that Bob Harvey was hesitating. His best telescopes doubtless, would not allow him to perceive any of the colonists crouching among the rocks. It was not even likely that his attention had been directed to the covering of green branches and creepers which hid the windows of Granite House cut into the bare wall. In fact, how could he imagine that a dwelling had been hollowed out, at this height, into the block of granite? From Cape Claw to the Mandible Capes, over the entire perimeter of Union Bay, there was nothing to indicate that the island could be occupied.

At eight o’clock however, the colonists saw some activity on board the Speedy. They hauled out the tackle and a boat was put to sea. Seven men descended. They were armed; one of them placed himself at the tiller, four at the oars and the other two, crouching up front, ready to fire, examined the island. Their purpose doubtless, was to perform a preliminary reconnaissance, but not to land, because in the latter case they would have come in greater numbers.

The pirates, perched in the topgallant mast, had evidently been able to see that an islet protected the coast and was separated from it by a channel about a half mile wide. By observing the direction followed by the boat, Cyrus Smith soon realized that they would not move first into the channel but would draw alongside the islet, which was besides a justified measure of prudence.

Pencroff and Ayrton, each hidden separately among the narrow windings of the rocks, saw them coming directly toward them and they waited for the right moment.

The boat advanced carefully. The oars dipped into the water only at long intervals. They could also see that one of the convicts in front held a sounding line in his hand and that he was trying to discover the channel hollowed out by the Mercy’s current. This indicated that Bob Harvey intended to bring his brig as close to shore as he could. About thirty pirates, dispersed in the shrouds, did not lose sight of the boat and took the bearings of certain landmarks which would allow them to land without danger.

The boat was not more than two cables from the islet when it stopped. The man at the helm, standing up, was looking for the best point at which to land on the islet.

In an instant two gunshots were heard. Some smoke twirled above the rocks on the islet. The man at the tiller and the man with the sounding line fell back into the boat. Ayrton’s and Pencroff’s bullets had struck both at the same instant.

Almost immediately a more violent detonation was heard. A bright jet of vapor spread from the brig’s broadside and a ball struck the tops of the rocks which sheltered Ayrton and Pencroff, making them fly into splinters, but not touching the two marksmen.

Immediately, a more violent detonation...

Horrible curses escaped from the boat which quickly resumed its movement. The man at the tiller was immediately replaced by one of his comrades and the oars vigorously plunged into the water.

Nevertheless, instead of returning on board, as one would have expected, the boat continued along the shore of the islet, so as to turn its southern point. The pirates were working the oars hard in order to put themselves outside the range of the weapons.

They advanced in this way until they were within five cables from that part of the shore which ended at Flotsom Point. Following a semi-circular path, they went toward the mouth of the Mercy, all the while protected by the brig’s cannons.

Their evident intention was to penetrate the channel so as to get to the rear of the colonists posted on the islet. The latter, whatever their number, would be then caught between the weapons of the boat and the weapons of the brig and would find themselves in a very disadvantageous position.

A quarter of a hour passed during which time the boat advanced in this direction. There was absolute silence, and complete calm in the air and on water.

Pencroff and Ayrton well understood that they risked being surrounded, but they did not leave their post, not wanting to show themselves to their assailants nor to expose themselves to the Speedy’s cannons. They counted on Neb and Gideon Spilett, on guard at the mouth of the river, and on Cyrus Smith and Herbert, posted among the rocks at the Chimneys.

Twenty minutes after the first gunshots, the boat was at least two cables off from the Mercy’s entrance. Since the tide began to rise with its usual violence, which was increased by the narrow opening, the convicts felt themselves drawn toward the river and it was only the pull of the oars which kept them in the channel. But as they passed within easy range of the mouth of the Mercy, two shots saluted them in passing, and two others of their number were again thrown back into the boat. Neb and Spilett had not wasted their rounds.

Immediately the brig sent a second ball to the post betrayed by the smoke from the firearms but without any result other than breaking the corners of some rocks.

At this moment, the boat held only three able bodied men. Carried by the current, it moved through the channel with the rapidity of an arrow, passed in front of Cyrus Smith and Herbert who, not judging it to be within easy range, remained silent; then it turned the northern point of the islet with the two remaining oars, placing itself in line to return to the brig.

Up to that point the colonists had no cause to complain. The engagement had gone badly for their adversaries. The latter already counted four men seriously wounded, dead perhaps; while they, on the contrary, with no casualties, had not wasted a shot. If the pirates continued to attack them in this way, if they continued to attempt to land by the use of boats, they would destroy them one by one.

One can understand how advantageous were the arrangements made by the engineer. The pirates were lead to believe that they had to deal with numerous as well as with armed adversaries whom they would not easily rout.

A half hour passed before the boat, which had to struggle against the current from the open sea, rejoined the Speedy. Strong cries were heard when it returned on board with the wounded, and the cannons were fired three or four times to no avail.

But then about twelve other convicts, filled with anger and perhaps still drunk from the previous evening, threw themselves into the boat. A second boat was also thrown into the sea into which eight men took their place and while the first one moved straight for the islet to flush out the colonists, the second went to force the entrance to the Mercy.

The situation had evidently become very perilous for Pencroff and Ayrton, and they realized that they must get back to the mainland.

However, they still waited for the first boat to come within easy range and two skilful shots produced a turmoil among its crew. Then Pencroff and Ayrton abandoned their post, not without being exposed to a dozen or so shots, crossed the islet as fast as their limbs could carry them, threw themselves into the canoe, crossed the channel and ran to hide at the Chimneys just as the second boat reached the southern point. They had hardly rejoined Cyrus Smith and Herbert when the islet was completely overrun by the pirates from the first boat.

At nearly the same moment, new detonations burst forth from the post at the Mercy which was rapidly approached by the second boat. Two of the eight men which it carried were mortally wounded by Gideon Spilett and Neb and the boat itself, not being able to avoid the reef, broke up at the mouth of the Mercy. But the six survivors, raising their weapons above their heads so as to preserve them from contact with the water, succeeded in setting foot on the right bank of the river. Then, finding themselves exposed to almost excessive fire from the post, they fled out of range with all possible speed in the direction of Flotsom Point.

The actual situation was as follows: on the islet there were a dozen convicts, some doubtless wounded but still having a boat available to them; on the island, six had landed but without any chance of reaching Granite House because they could not cross the river whose bridges were raised.

“What now!” said Pencroff rushing into the Chimneys, “what now, Mister Cyrus! What do you think?”

“I think,” replied the engineer, “that the battle will take a new turn because we cannot assume that the convicts will be so stupid as to continue under conditions which are so unfavorable for them.”

“Anyhow, they won’t get across the channel,” said the sailor. “Ayrton’s and Mister Spilett’s carbines are there to hold them in check. You know that they have a range of more than a mile.”

“Doubtless,” replied Herbert, “but what can two carbines do against the brig’s cannons?”

“Well, the brig is not yet in the channel, I imagine,” replied Pencroff.

“And if it comes there?” asked Cyrus Smith.

“That is impossible because it will risk stranding itself there and it will become lost.”

“It is possible,” Ayrton replied. “The convicts could profit from the high tide to enter the channel and leave before the low tide strands it. Then, under fire from their cannons, our posts would no longer be tenable.”

“By the thousand devils of hell,” shouted Pencroff, “it really seems that the scoundrels are getting ready to raise anchor.”

“Perhaps we will be forced to seek refuge in Granite House,” noted Herbert.

“Let us wait,” replied Cyrus Smith.

“But Neb and Mister Spilett?...” said Pencroff.

“They will know enough to rejoin us at the right time. Get ready, Ayrton. It is your carbine and that of Spilett which must speak now.”

It was only too true. The Speedy began to lift anchor with the intention of approaching the islet. The tide would still be high for an hour and a half, and with the current at a standstill, it would be easy to maneuver the brig. But as to entering the channel, Pencroff, contrary to Ayrton’s opinion, would not admit that they would dare to attempt it.

During this time, the pirates who occupied the islet moved over to the opposite bank little by little and it was only the channel which separated them from the mainland. They were armed with simple weapons which could not harm the colonists lying in wait at the Chimneys and at the mouth of the Mercy. Not realizing that the colonists had long range carbines, they did not think that they were exposed. They were surveying the islet and rambling along the shore.

Their illusion was of short duration. Ayrton’s and Gideon Spilett’s carbines then spoke and doubtless said some disagreeable things to two convicts, because they fell backward.

There was a general helter-skelter. The other ten did not even take the time to pick up their companions, wounded or dead. They ran with all possible speed to the other side of the islet, threw themselves into the boat which had brought them there and got back on board under oar power.

“Eight down,” shouted Pencroff. “One could truly say that Mister Spilett and Ayrton were told to fire simultaneously.”

“Gentlemen,” replied Ayrton, reloading his carbine, “this is becoming most serious. The brig is getting under weigh.”

“The anchor is apeak!...” shouted Pencroff.

“Yes, and she is already atrip.”

In fact, they distinctly heard the clicking of the pawl on the windlass as it was turned by the ship’s crew. At first the Speedy was held by its anchor; then when that had been wrenched from the bottom, it began to drift toward land. The wind blew from the open sea; the large jib and the small topsail were hoisted and little by little the vessel came nearer.

At the two posts at the Mercy and at the Chimneys they saw it maneuver, without giving any signs of life but not without a certain emotion. It would be a terrible situation for the colonists if they were exposed to the fire from the brig’s cannons at short range, without being able to respond in kind. How then could they prevent the pirates from landing?

Cyrus Smith knew this and he asked himself if there was anything to be done. Before long he would be called upon to make a decision. But what? Enclose themselves in Granite House, let themselves be besieged for weeks, months even, since supplies abounded there. Good! But afterwards? The pirates would none the less be masters of the island, they would ravage it as they saw fit and in the end they would overcome the prisoners of Granite House.

However one chance still remained: it was that Bob Harvey would not hazard his vessel into the channel and that he would keep it away from the islet. A half mile still separated it from shore and at this distance his fire would not be extremely harmful.

“Never,” repeated Pencroff, “if this Bob Harvey is a good sailor, he will never enter the channel. He well knows that he risks the brig because it takes only a little for the sea to become rough. And what would he become without his ship?”

However, the brig approached the islet and they could see that it was looking to reach the lower extremity. There was a light breeze and since the current had then lost much of its force, Bob Harvey could maneuver his vessel pretty much as he wanted.

The path previously followed by the boats had allowed him to familiarize himself with the channel and he imprudently entered. His plan was quite clear: he wanted to bring the vessel broadside in front of the Chimneys and from there reply with shell and cannon balls to the shot which had decimated his crew.

Soon the Speedy reached the islet’s point; it turned it with ease; the spanker sail was then full and the brig, propelled by the wind, found itself facing the Mercy.

“The bandits! They came!” shouted Pencroff.

At this moment, Cyrus Smith, Ayrton, the sailor and Herbert were joined by Neb and Gideon Spilett.

The reporter and his companion had judged it best to abandon the post at the Mercy where they could no longer do anything against the vessel and they were wise to do so. It was better for the colonists to be together at the moment when a decisive action was about to take place. Gideon Spilett and Neb had moved behind the rocks but not without sustaining a hail of shot which had not harmed them.

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

“No,” replied the reporter, “a few bruises only from the ricochet! But the damn brig has entered the channel.”

“Yes,” replied Pencroff, “and before ten minutes are over it will have anchored in front of Granite House.”

“Do you have a plan, Cyrus?” asked the reporter.

“We must take refuge in Granite House while there is still time and the convicts cannot see us.”

“That is also my opinion,” replied Gideon Spilett, “but once inside...”

“We will consider the circumstances,” replied the engineer.

“Let’s get going then and hurry!” said the reporter.

“Would you want Ayrton and me to remain here, Mister Cyrus?” asked the sailor.

“For what good, Pencroff?” replied Cyrus Smith. “No, we will not separate!”

There was not an instant to lose. The colonists left the Chimneys. A small turn in the facade prevented them from being seen from the brig; but two or three detonations and the shattering of shells against the rocks informed them that the Speedy was only a short distance away.

The shattering of shells against the rocks...

To throw themselves into the elevator, hoist themselves to the door of Granite House where Top and Jup had been shut up since the previous evening and run into the large hall was the affair of a moment.

It was just in time because the colonists, through the branches, saw the Speedy moving through the channel, surrounded by gunsmoke. The firing was incessant and the balls from four cannons struck blindly either at the post at the Mercy which was no longer occupied, or at the Chimneys. Rocks were shattered and hurrahs accompanied each detonation.

However, they could hope that Granite House would be spared thanks to the precaution that Cyrus Smith had taken of concealing the windows, when a cannon ball grazed the doorway, penetrating inside.

“Curses! We are discovered,” shouted Pencroff.

Perhaps the colonists had not been seen but it was certain that Bob Harvey had judged it appropriate to send a projectile through the suspicious foliage that covered this portion of the high wall. He soon increased his fire when a ball nicked the screen of foliage and brought to view a gaping opening in the granite.

The situation of the colonists was desperate. Their retreat had been discovered. They had nothing to oppose these projectiles nor to prevent damage to the stone whose splinters were flying all around them like grape-shot. Nothing remained except to take refuge in the upper passageway of Granite House and to abandon their dwelling to complete destruction when a rumbling sound was heard followed by terror stricken cries.

Cyrus Smith and his companions ran to one of the windows.

The brig, irresistibly raised by a sort of waterspout, split in two and in less than ten seconds it was engulfed with its criminal crew.

The brig, raised by a sort of waterspout.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Secret of the Island

Chapter IV

The colonists on the beach—Ayrton and Pencroff work at salvaging—Gossip during lunch—Pencroff’s remarks—Close inspection of the brig’s hull—Intact storeroom—New riches—The last of the debris—A piece of broken cylinder.

“THEY’VE blown up!” shouted Herbert.

“Yes! Blown up just as if Ayrton had ignited their powder,” replied Pencroff, throwing himself into the elevator while Neb and the lad were doing likewise.

“But what happened?” asked Gideon Spilett, still stupefied by the unexpected denouement.

“Ah! This time we will know...” replied the engineer vividly.

“What will we know?...”

“Later! later! Come Spilett. The important thing is that these pirates have been exterminated!”

And Cyrus Smith, hurrying the reporter and Ayrton along, joined Pencroff, Neb and Herbert on the beach.

They no longer saw anything of the brig, not even its mast. After having been raised by this waterspout, it was thrown on its side and had foundered in this position, doubtless as a result of some enormous water flooding. But inasmuch as the channel at this point did not measure more than twenty feet in depth, it was certain that the sides of the immersed brig would reappear at low tide.

Some wreckage was floating on the surface of the sea. They saw spare masts and yards, poultry cages with their occupants still living, chests and barrels which little by little rose to the surface after having gotten out through the hatchways; but there was no other drifting debris, neither the planking from the deck nor from the hull—this made the sinking of the Speedy rather inexplicable.

However, the two masts, which had broken a few feet above the partner after having snapped their stays and shrouds, soon rose to the surface of the channel with their sails, some unfurled and others rolled up. But it was best not to wait until the ebb tide carried away all these riches. Ayrton and Pencroff threw themselves into the canoe with the intention of mooring all of the wreckage be it on the shore of the island or on the shore of the islet.

But just as they were about to leave a thought from Gideon Spilett stopped them.

“And what about the six convicts who went ashore on the right bank of the Mercy?” he said.

In fact, they must not forget that the six men whose boat had broken on the rocks had set foot at Flotsom Point.

They looked in that direction. None of the fugitives were visible. It was probable that, after having seen the brig engulfed by the waters of the channel, they had fled into the island’s interior.

“We will concern ourselves with them later,” Cyrus Smith then said. “They could still be dangerous because they are armed, but now with six against six the chances are equal. Let’s attend to the most urgent business first.”

Ayrton and Pencroff got into the boat and vigorously paddled to the wreckage.

The tide was then slack and very high since the moon had been new two days earlier. A full hour at least must pass before the hull of the brig would emerge from the water.

Ayrton and Pencroff used the time to moor down the masts and the spars with ropes whose ends were anchored at the Granite House beach. There the colonists, working together, succeeded in hauling up the wreckage. Then, with the canoe, they collected everything that was floating, poultry cages, barrels, and cases which were immediately transported to the Chimneys.

A few bodies were floating on the surface. Among others, Ayrton recognized that of Bob Harvey and he pointed him out to his companion while saying with an emotional voice:

“That is what I have been, Pencroff!”

“That is what I have been, Pencroff!”

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

It was rather strange that so few bodies were floating. They barely counted five or six which the ebb tide was already beginning to carry out to the open sea. Most likely the convicts, surprised by the engulfment, had not had the time to flee and with the vessel lying on its side, most of them had been caught under the bulwarks. The tide would drag the bodies of these wretches to the high seas and would save the colonists the sad task of burying them in some corner of the island.

For two hours, Cyrus Smith and his companions were only occupied with hauling the spars on to the beach. Then they stretched out the perfectly intact sails to dry out. They spoke little, since their work absorbed them but what thoughts were on their minds! The brig contained a fortune. In fact, a vessel is like a small but complete world and the stores of the colony would be increased by many useful items. It would be, on a large scale, the equivalent of the case found at Flotsom Point.

“And besides,” thought Pencroff, “why would it be impossible to refloat this brig? If it is only a water leak, that can be sealed. A vessel of three or four hundred tons is a real vessel compared to our Bonadventure. And we can go quite a distance with it! It will go wherever we want. Mister Cyrus, Ayrton and I must examine it. It would be worth the trouble.”

In fact, if the brig could be made seaworthy, then the colonists’ chances of returning to their native land would be remarkably increased. But to decide this important question, they must wait for low tide in order to examine every part of the hull.

When the wreckage had been secured on shore, Cyrus Smith and his companions devoted a few moments to eating. They were literally dying of hunger. Happily, the pantry was not far away and Neb could pass for a ship’s cook if need be. So they dined near the Chimneys and during this meal they thought about the unexpected event which had so miraculously saved the colony.

“Miraculously is the word,” repeated Pencroff, “because it must be admitted that these rascals were blown up at a most opportune time. Granite House was oddly becoming uninhabitable!”

“And can you imagine, Pencroff,” asked the reporter, “what occurred to bring on the brig’s explosion?”

“Well, Mister Spilett, nothing is more simple,” replied Pencroff. “A pirate ship is not run like a warship. Convicts are not sailors! It is certain that the powder room of the brig was open since they were firing on us without letup and it would suffice for someone imprudent or careless to blow up the works.”

“Mister Cyrus,” said Herbert, “what astonishes me is that this explosion has not produced a greater effect. The detonation was not strong and in short there is little debris or torn planking. It would seem that it foundered rather than that it blew up.”

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

“Yes, Mister Cyrus.”

“And me too, Herbert,” replied the engineer, “it astonishes me; but when we will visit the brig’s hull we will doubtless find the explanation for this event.”

“So then, Mister Cyrus,” said Pencroff, “you are not going to allege that the Speedy simply foundered like a ship that struck a rock?”

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

“That’s fine, Neb,” replied Pencroff. “You did not have your eyes open at the right moment. An instant before the engulfment, as I saw perfectly, the ship was raised by an enormous wave and fell back on its port side. Now if it had only struck a rock it would have foundered tranquilly like an honest vessel going to the bottom.”

“But it was not an honest vessel, strictly speaking,” replied Neb.

“We will take a good look, Pencroff,” replied the engineer.

“We will take a good look,” added the sailor, “but I will bet my head that there are no rocks in the channel. Look here, Mister Cyrus, to speak frankly, would you say that there was something strange in this event?”

Cyrus Smith did not reply.

“In any case,” said Gideon Spilett, “impact or explosion, you will agree, Pencroff, that it came just in time.”

“Yes!... yes!...” replied the sailor, “...but that is not the question. I ask Mister Smith if he sees anything supernatural in this.”

“I do not know, Pencroff,” said the engineer. “That is all that I can say to you.”

This reply did not satisfy Pencroff. He insisted on “an explosion” and he would not give in. He would not admit that this channel, formed of a bed of sand like the beach itself, and which he had often crossed at low tide, had some unknown rock. And besides, it was high tide when the brig sank, that is to say that there was enough water to cross over, without bumping any rocks that did not appear at low tide. Therefore there could not have been any impact. Therefore the vessel had not collided. Therefore it had blown up.

And it must be admitted that the sailor’s logic did not lack a certain justification.

About one thirty, the colonists got into the canoe and went to the place where the stranding had occurred. It was regrettable that the two boats from the brig had not been salvaged; but as we know one had been broken up at the mouth of the Mercy and was absolutely useless; the other had disappeared when the brig went down and had doubtless been crushed by it since it had not reappeared.

At this moment the Speedy’s hull began to show itself above the water. The brig had done more than fall on its side because after having snapped its masts under the weight of the falling ballast, it had brought its keel almost into the air. It had truly been turned upside down by the inexplicable but frightful submarine action which had at the same time been manifested by the displacement of an enormous waterspout.

The colonists made a tour of the hull and as the tide continued to go down, they were able to discover, if not the cause which had provoked the catastrophe, at least the effect produced.

Up front, on both sides of the keel, seven or eight feet before the beginning of the stem, the sides of the brig had been frightfully torn up for a length of at least twenty feet. There were two large water leaks which would be impossible to plug up. Not only had the copper bottom and the sheathing disappeared, doubtless pulverized to dust, but there was no longer any trace of the framework itself, nor of the iron bolts and treenails which fastened them. Along the entire length of the hull up to the stern, the strakes were torn to shreds, no longer sea worthy. The false keel had been separated with an inexplicable violence and the keel itself, torn from the keelson at several points, was broken along its entire length.

“A thousand devils!” shouted Pencroff. “Here is a vessel which will be difficult to refloat.”

“It will even be impossible,” said Ayrton.

“In any case,” Gideon Spilett said to the sailor, “the explosion, if it was an explosion, has produced strange effects. It has damaged the inside of the hull instead of blowing up the deck and the upper structure. These large openings appear to have been made by a collision with a rock rather than by the explosion of the powder room.”

“There is no rock in the channel” replied the sailor. “I will admit to anything you wish, except a collision with a rock!”

“Let us try to get inside the brig,” said the engineer. “Perhaps we will then know what caused its destruction.”

That was the best thing to do and it was agreed besides to inventory all the riches contained on board and to decide on their disposal.

Access to the brig’s interior was then easy. The tide was low and they reached the lower side of the deck, which had now become the upper side because the hull had turned over. The ballast, composed of heavy pig iron, was smashed in several places. They heard the splashing sea flowing in through several fissures in the hull.

Cyrus Smith and his companions, with ax in hand, advanced along the half broken deck. Cases of all sorts obstructed the deck and since these cases had been in the water for only a limited time, their contents might not be damaged.

They then occupied themselves with putting all of this cargo in a secure place. The water would not return for several hours and this time was used profitably. Ayrton and Pencroff fastened a tackle at a practical opening in the hull which served to hoist the barrels and the cases. The canoe received them and transported them immediately to the beach. They took everything without discrimination, leaving for later the task of sorting out these objects.

In any case the colonists took satisfaction from the very varied cargo which the brig contained, an assortment of articles of all sorts, utensils, manufactured products and tools such as are carried by the ships which trade with Polynesia. It was probable that they would find a little of everything and they agreed that that was precisely what the colony of Lincoln Island needed.

Besides, and Cyrus Smith noted this in astonished silence, not only the brig’s hull, as has been said, had suffered enormously from the collision whatever the cause, but the interior arrangements lay in waste especially toward the bow. Bulkheads and stanchions were broken as if some formidable shell had exploded inside the brig. After having removed the cases as they went along, the colonists could now move easily from bow to stern. These cases were not heavy bales whose removal would have been difficult, but simple packages which were no longer recognizable.

The colonists then reached that part of the brig’s stern which was formerly above the poop deck. It was there that, according to Ayrton’s directions, they must look for the powder room. Cyrus Smith thought that if it had not exploded, it was possible that a few barrels could be salvaged and that the powder, which is ordinarily enclosed in metal envelopes, would not have suffered from contact with the water.

That was in fact, what had occurred. They found, among a large quantity of projectiles, about twenty copper lined barrels which they carefully removed. Pencroff was convinced by his own eyes that the destruction of the Speedy could not be attributed to an explosion. The portion of the hull in which the powder room was situated was precisely the one that had suffered the least.

They found about twenty barrels.

“Possibly,” replied the stubborn sailor, “but as to a rock, there is no rock in the channel.”

“Then what happened?” asked Herbert.

“I don’t know anything about it,” replied Pencroff, “Mister Cyrus doesn’t know anything about it, no one knows about it or will ever know anything about it.”

Several hours passed during these various activities, and the rising tide began to be felt. It was necessary to suspend the salvage work. Besides, they did not need to fear that the remains of the brig would float away to sea because it was already sunk into the mud as firmly as if it had been moored with its anchors.

They could therefore wait without inconvenience for the next ebb tide to resume their operations. But as to the ship itself, it was doomed and it would even be necessary to make haste in salvaging the debris from the hull because it would not be long in disappearing into the shifting sand of the channel.

It was five o’clock in the evening. The day had been a rough one for the laborers. They ate with a good appetite but in spite of their fatigue they could not resist the desire, after dinner, to inspect the cases which comprised the cargo of the Speedy.

For the most part they contained ready made clothing which, as we can imagine, was well received. There was enough to clothe the entire colony, with linen for every usage and shoes for every foot.

“We are rich,” shouted Pencroff. “But what are we going to do with all of this?”

And at each instant hurrahs burst forth from the happy sailor when he recognized barrels of rum, cases of tobacco, firearms and bladed weapons, bales of cotton, laborer’s tools and tools for the carpenter, the cabinet maker and the blacksmith, and boxes of seed of all varieties. Their short stay in the water had not damaged them. Ah! If these things had come only two years earlier. But even now that these industrious colonists had tools of their own, these riches would find use.

There was no lack of space in the storerooms of Granite House but on this day they did not have enough time to store everything. They must not forget that six survivors of the Speedy’s crew had set foot on the island, that they were truly scamps of the first order, and that they must guard against them. Even though the bridge across the Mercy and the smaller bridges were raised, the convicts would not be inconvenienced by a river or a brook, and driven by despair, rascals such as these could be formidable.

They would see later what steps it would be best to take in this matter; but in the meantime they must keep watch over the cases and packages piled up near the Chimneys, and that is what the colonists took turns in doing during the night.

The night however passed without the convicts attempting any attack. Master Jup and Top, on guard at the foot of Granite House, would have given some signal.

The three days which followed, the 19th, 20th and 21th of October, were used to salvage everything that could have any value or use whatsoever, either from the cargo or from the rigging of the brig. At low tide they removed everything from the hold. At high tide they stored what they had salvaged. A large part of the copper lining had been torn off the hull which each day, sunk further into the sand. But before the sand had engulfed the heavy objects that had sunk to the bottom, Ayrton and Pencroff had several times plunged down to the bed of the channel to recover the chains and anchors of the brig, the pig iron of its ballast and even four cannons which, lightened by empty barrels, they were able to bring to land.

As we can see, the colony’s arsenal gained as much from the salvage as the pantry and storerooms of Granite House. Pencroff, always enthusiastic about his projects, already spoke of constructing a battery which would command the channel and the mouth of the river. With four cannons they could prevent any navy “however powerful it might be” from venturing into the waters of Lincoln Island.

Nothing now remained of the brig but a useless carcass. Bad weather completed its destruction. Cyrus Smith had intended to blow it up in order to recover the debris on the shore but a strong northeast wind and a strong sea allowed him to economize his powder.

In fact, on the night of the 23rd to the 24th, the hull of the brig was completely dismantled and a part of the wreckage was stranded on the beach.

As to any papers on board, needless to say, Cyrus Smith could find no trace however carefully he searched the closets of the poop deck. The pirates had evidently destroyed every reference to the captain and to the ownership of the Speedy, and since the homeport was not given on any aft nameplate, they had no clue as to its nationality. However, from the forward shape of the vessel, Ayrton and Pencroff thought that the brig was of English construction.

Eight days after the catastrophe, or rather after the fortunate but inexplicable denouement to which the colony owed its salvation, they could no longer see anything of the vessel, not even at low tide. Its debris had been dispersed and Granite House was enriched by nearly all that it had contained.

However, the mystery of its strange destruction would doubtless have never been cleared up if on the 30th of November Neb, while roaming about the beach, had not found a thick piece of an iron cylinder which bore the traces of an explosion. This cylinder was twisted and broken as if it had been subjected to the action of an explosive substance.

Neb brought this piece of metal to his master who was then occupied with his companions at the Chimneys workshop.

Cyrus Smith examined this cylinder carefully and then turning to Pencroff:

“You persist, my friend,” he said to him, “in maintaining that the Speedy did not perish as a result of a collision?”

“Yes, Mister Cyrus,” replied the sailor, “you know as well as I do that there are no rocks in the channel.”

“But if it had run up against this piece of iron?” said the engineer, showing him the broken cylinder.

“What, this stump of pipe?” shouted Pencroff, with a completely incredulous tone.

“My friends,” replied Cyrus Smith, “do you recall that before foundering, the brig was raised to the summit of a real waterspout?”

“Yes, Mister Cyrus,” replied Herbert.

“Well, do you want to know what brought on this waterspout? It was this,” said the engineer, showing the broken tube.

“This?” replied Pencroff.

“This?” replied Pencroff.

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

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

“And who put this torpedo there?” asked Pencroff, not wanting to yield.

“All that I can tell you is that it wasn’t I,” replied Cyrus Smith, “but it was there, and you were able to judge its incomparable power!”

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Secret of the Island

Chapter V

The engineer’s assertions—Pencroff’s grandiose hypotheses—An aerial battery—Four projectiles—On the subject of the surviving convicts—Ayrton’s hesitation—Cyrus Smith’s generous sentiments—Pencroff apologizes.

SO then, everything was explained by the submarine explosion of this torpedo. Cyrus Smith, who during the war of the Union had had occasion to experiment with these terrible engines of destruction, was not mistaken. It was under the action of this cylinder, loaded with an explosive substance, nitroglycerin, picrate or other material of the same nature, that the water of the channel rose like a waterspout. The brig was struck from below and foundered instantly. It was impossible to refloat the brig because its hull had been subjected to considerable damage. The Speedy had not been able to resist a torpedo which could destroy an armored frigate as easily as a simple fishing boat.

Yes! everything was explained, everything... except the presence of this torpedo in the waters of the channel!

“My friends,” Cyrus Smith then said, “we can no longer doubt the presence of a mysterious being, a castaway like ourselves perhaps, abandoned on our island, and I say this in order that Ayrton may be brought up to date on the strange events that have occurred during these two years. Who is this unknown benefactor whose intervention, fortunately for us, is manifested in so many ways? I cannot imagine him. What interest does he have in acting so and in concealing himself after rendering these services? I do not understand it. But these services are none the less real and such that only a man possessing prodigious power could have rendered them for us. Ayrton is just as indebted to him as we are, because it was the stranger who saved me from the waves after the fall of the balloon, it was evidently he who wrote the document, who put this bottle along the route of the channel which told us of our companion’s situation. I will add that this case, so conveniently containing everything that we needed, was brought to and stranded at Flotsom Point by him; that it was he who lighted the fire placed on the heights of the island which permitted you to reach land; that it was he who fired the lead bullet found in the body of the peccary; that it was he who placed this torpedo in the channel which destroyed the brig; in a word, that all these inexplicable events, which we have not been able to render an account of, they are due to this mysterious being. Thus whoever he is, castaway or exile on this island, we would be ingrates if we thought ourselves free of any obligation toward him. We have contracted a debt and I hope that we will pay it one day.”

“You are right in speaking this way, my dear Cyrus,” replied Gideon Spilett. “Yes, there is a being, almost all powerful, hidden in some part of the island, whose influence has been strangely useful for our colony. I will add that this stranger seems to have means of action which border on the supernatural, if the supernatural is acceptable to the events of practical life. Is it he who is in secret communication with us by means of the well in Granite House and does he therefore know all our plans? Was it he who put this bottle within our reach when the canoe made its first sea excursion? Was it he who threw Top out of the waters of the lake and gave the mortal wound to the dugong? Was it he, as we are all led to believe, who saved you from the waves, Cyrus, and under circumstances in which any other man could not have acted? If it is he, then he possesses a power which renders him master of the elements.”

The reporter’s observation was justified and everyone agreed with him.

“Yes,” replied Cyrus Smith, “if we no longer doubt the intervention of a human being, I agree that he has a means of action which are outside that available to humanity. That is also a mystery, but if we discover the man, the mystery will also be solved. The question then is this: should we respect the privacy of this generous being or should we do everything to find him? What is your opinion in this respect?”

“My opinion,” replied Pencroff, “is that whoever he is, he is a brave man and he has my esteem.”

“That is so,” replied Cyrus Smith, “but that is not an answer, Pencroff.”

“My master,” Neb then said, “my opinion is that we can search as much as we wish for the gentleman in question but we will not find him until it pleases him.”

“What you say, Neb, is not foolish,” replied Pencroff.

“I agree with Neb,” replied Gideon Spilett, “but that is no reason for not trying. Whether we find or do not find this mysterious being, we will at least have done our duty toward him.”

“And you, my child, give us your opinion,” said the engineer, turning toward Herbert.

“Ah!” shouted Herbert, whose look became animated, “I would like to thank him. It was he who first saved you and who saved us afterwards.”

“Don’t despair, my lad,” retorted Pencroff, “and I also, and all of us! I am not curious but I would give one of my eyes to see this particular person face to face. It seems to me that he must be handsome, tall, strong, with a fine beard, hair like rays, and that he must lie on the clouds with a large ball in his hand!”

“But Pencroff,” replied Gideon Spilett, “that is the portrait of God, the Father, that you have given us.”

“Possibly, Mister Spilett,” replied the sailor, “but that is how I visualize him.”

“And you, Ayrton?” asked the engineer.

“Mister Smith,” replied Ayrton, “I can hardly give you my advice on this matter. What you will do will be fine with me. When you wish me to join your search, I will be ready to follow you.”

“I thank you, Ayrton,” replied Cyrus Smith, “but I would like a more direct response to the question which I have asked. You are our companion; several times already you have shown your devotion to us and, like everyone here, you should be consulted when we are making some important decision. Speak then.”

“Mister Smith,” replied Ayrton, “I think that we should do everything to find this unknown benefactor. Perhaps he is alone? Perhaps he suffers? Perhaps there is a life to renew? I also, as you have said, owe him a debt. It was he, it could only be he who came to Tabor Island, who found there this wretch that you have come to know, who made you aware that there was an unfortunate to save... It is therefore thanks to him that I have become a man once again. No, I will never forget him.”

“It is decided,” Cyrus Smith then said. “We will begin our search as soon as possible. We will not leave any part of the island unexplored. We will pry into its most secret retreats and I hope that our unknown friend will pardon our intentions.”

For several days the colonists were employed in hay making and harvesting. Before putting into execution their project to explore the still unknown parts of the island, they wanted to complete all indispensable tasks. It was also the season for harvesting the various vegetables grown from the Tabor Island plants. Everything was stored and fortunately there was no lack of space at Granite House where they could put all the riches of the island. The products of the colony were there, methodically arranged and in a secure place, protected, we can be sure, as much from beasts as from men. No dampness was to be feared in the midst of this thick mass of granite. Several natural excavations situated in the upper passageway were enlarged and widened either with the pickaxe or with the mine and Granite House thus became a general warehouse containing the provisions, the munitions, the tools and the spare utensils, in a word all the material of the colony.

As to the cannons from the brig, they were fine pieces cast in steel which, at Pencroff’s urging, were hoisted by means of winding tackle and cranes to the very level of Granite House; recesses were made in the windows and soon one could see the shining muzzles of the cannons through the granite wall. From this height, these muzzles truly commanded all of Union Bay. It was like a miniature Gibraltar and any vessel which would moor in sight of the islet would be inevitably exposed to the fire from this aerial battery.

“Mister Cyrus,” Pencroff said one day,—it was the 8th of November—“now that this armament is in place, we should try our pieces for range.”

“Do you believe that this is useful?” replied the engineer.

“It is more than useful, it is necessary! Without it, how can we know to what distance we can send one of these fine balls with which we are provided?”

“Let us try it then, Pencroff,” replied the engineer. “Nevertheless I think that we should try to use not ordinary powder whose supply I would like to leave intact, but pyroxylin which we will never lack.”

“Can these cannons withstand the explosion of pyroxylin?” asked the reporter, who was no less desirous than Pencroff to try out the Granite House artillery.

“I think so. Besides,” added the engineer, “we will proceed carefully.”

The engineer had reason to believe that these cannons were of excellent manufacture as he could plainly see. Made with forged steel and breech loaded, they could, as a result, withstand a considerable charge and consequently have an enormous range. In fact, from the practical point of view, the trajectory described by the ball should be as accurate as possible and this accuracy can only be obtained if the projectile is given a very large muzzle velocity.

“Now,” said Cyrus Smith to his companions, “the muzzle velocity is in proportion to the amount of powder used. In the manufacture of these pieces, the question reduces itself to using the strongest possible metal, and steel is incontestably the strongest of all metals. I therefore have reason to believe that our cannons will withstand the expansion of the pyroxylin gases without danger and will give excellent results.”

“We will be more certain of that when we try it,” replied Pencroff.

It goes without saying that the four cannons were in perfect condition. After they had been salvaged from the water, the sailor had given himself the task of polishing them conscientiously. What hours he spent rubbing them, lubricating them, cleaning the obturator mechanism, the locking bolt and the pressure screw! And now these pieces were as brilliant as if they had been on board a frigate of the United States Navy.

What hours he spent rubbing them!

On this day then, in the presence of all the personnel of the colony, Master Jup and Top included, the four cannons were tried in turn. They loaded them with pyroxylin, taking account of its explosive power which, as has been said, is quadruple that of ordinary powder; the projectile that they would use was cylindro-conical.

Pencroff, holding the fuze cord, was ready to fire.

On a sign from Cyrus Smith, this was done. The ball, directed toward the ocean, passed over the islet and was lost at sea at a distance that they could not determine accurately.

The second cannon was pointed toward the extreme rocks at Flotsom Point and the projectile, striking a sharp rock nearly three miles from Granite House, made it fly into splinters.

It was Herbert who had aimed the cannon and fired it and he was full of pride over the test. Only Pencroff was even prouder, for the honor of this shot belonged to his dear child.

The third projectile, thrown this time over the dunes which formed the upper coast of Union Bay, struck the sand at a distance of at least four miles; then after having ricocheted, it lost itself at sea in a cloudy spray.

For the fourth piece, Cyrus Smith overloaded it a bit, in order to test it at maximum range. Everyone took cover in case it exploded. The fuze was ignited with a long cord.

A violent detonation was heard but the piece held. Running to the window the colonists could see the projectile chip the rocks of Cape Mandible at nearly five miles from Granite House and disappear into Shark Gulf.

“Well, Mister Cyrus,” shouted Pencroff, whose hurrahs rivaled the detonations produced, “what do you think of our battery? All the pirates of the Pacific have only to present themselves in front of Granite House. Now not one will land without our permission.”

“Believe me, Pencroff,” replied the engineer, “it would be better not to have the experience.”

“On the same subject,” replied the sailor, “what shall we do with the six rascals who are roaming the island? Will we let them overrun our forests, our fields and our prairies? Pirates like these are real jaguars and it seems to me that we should not hesitate to treat them as such. What do you think Ayrton?” said Pencroff, turning to his companion.

At first Ayrton hesitated to reply and Cyrus Smith regretted that Pencroff had been a little thoughtless in asking this question. He was very moved when Ayrton replied in a humble tone:

“I have been one of these jaguars, Mister Pencroff, and I do not have the right to speak...”

And he quietly withdrew.

Pencroff understood.

“Devilish beast that I am,” he shouted. “Poor Ayrton! He nevertheless has the right to speak as much as anyone here...”

“Yes,” said Gideon Spilett, “but his reserve does him honor and we must respect this feeling that he has about his sad past.”

“Agreed, Mister Spilett,” replied the sailor, “I won’t do that again. I would rather devour my tongue than cause Ayrton any sorrow. But let us return to the question. It seems to me that these bandits have no right to any pity and that we must rid the island of them as soon as possible.”

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

“It is definitely my opinion.”

“And before pursuing them without mercy would you not wait until they had done something hostile against us?”

“Isn’t what they have already done sufficient?” asked Pencroff, who could not understand these hesitations.

“They could take on other sentiments,” said Cyrus Smith, “and perhaps repent...”

“Repent, they!” shouted the sailor, raising his shoulders.

“Pencroff, think of Ayrton!” Herbert then said, taking the sailor’s hand. “He became an honest man again.”

Pencroff looked at his companions from one to the other. He had not thought that his proposal would have encountered any hesitation whatsoever. His rough nature could not admit that they compromise with the rascals who had landed on the island, the accomplices of Bob Harvey, the assassins of the Speedy’s crew, and he looked upon them as wild beasts whom he must destroy without hesitation and without remorse.

“Come now!” he said. “I have everyone against me. You want to deal generously with these rascals! So be it. May we not regret it.”

“What danger do we run,” said Herbert, “if we take care to keep up our guard?”

“Hm!” said the reporter, who had not spoken much. “They are six and well armed. If each of them lay in wait in a corner and fired on one of us they would soon be masters of the colony.”

“Why haven’t they done so?” replied Herbert. “Doubtless because it is not in their interest to do so. Besides, we are also six.”

“Good! good!” replied Pencroff, whom no amount of reasoning could convince. “Let us allow these worthy men to attend to their little occupations and let us think no more about them.”

“Come, Pencroff,” said Neb. “You are not as wicked as all that. If one of these unfortunates were here, in front of you, in easy range of your gun, wouldn’t you fire over...”

“I would fire on him as if he were a mad dog, Neb,” replied Pencroff coldly.

“Pencroff,” the engineer then said, “you have often shown much deference to my opinion. Won’t you in this circumstance yield to me again?”

“I will do as you wish, Mister Smith,” replied the sailor, who was not convinced.

“Well then, let us wait, and attack only if we are attacked.”

Their conduct with respect to the pirates was thus decided even though Pencroff could foresee no good result. They would not attack them but they would remain on guard. After all, the island was large and fertile. If some sentiment of honesty remained in the depths of their souls, these wretches could perhaps reform. Under the conditions in which they had to live, was it not in their interest to start a new life? In any case, humanity required that they wait. Perhaps the colonists no longer could come and go as before without caution. Until then they had had to guard only against wild animals, and now six convicts, perhaps of the worst kind, were roaming their island. It was doubtless serious and for less brave men it would have been lost security.

No matter! For the present the colonists were right contrary to Pencroff. Would they be right in the future? That remained to be seen.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Secret of the Island

Chapter VI

Expedition plans—Ayrton at the corral—Visit to Port Balloon—Remarks made by Pencroff on board the “Bonadventure”—Dispatch sent to the corral—No reply from Ayrton—Departure the next day—Why the telegraph no longer functioned—A detonation.

HOWEVER, the principal preoccupation of the colonists was to conduct a complete exploration of the island, which had been decided upon, an exploration which now had two goals: first, to discover the mysterious being whose existence was no longer in doubt and at the same time, to find out what had become of the pirates, what retreat they had chosen, what life they were leading and what they would have to fear from them.

Cyrus Smith wanted to leave without delay; but for an expedition that would last several days, they would find it convenient to load up the cart with various things needed for the encampments, and with utensils which would make their stopovers easier. Now at this time, one of the onagers had hurt his leg and could not be harnessed; he needed a few days of rest and they could put off the departure for a week without inconvenience, that is to say until the 20th of November. The month of November, under this latitude, corresponds to the month of May in the northern zones. They were therefore in the fine season. The sun had arrived over the Tropic of Capricorn and gave the longest days of the year. The time was hence favorable for the planned expedition which, if it did not attain its main goal, could be fruitful in discoveries, especially from the point of view of the island’s natural productions. Cyrus Smith proposed that they explore those thick forests of the Far West which extended up to the extremity of Serpentine Peninsula.

During the nine days that preceded their departure, it was agreed that they would put the finishing touches on their work on Grand View Plateau.

However it was necessary for Ayrton to return to the corral where the domestic animals needed care. It was decided that he would pass two days there and that he would return to Granite House after having abundantly stocked the stables.

As he was about to leave, Cyrus Smith asked him if he wanted someone to accompany him, making a comment that the island was less secure than before.

Ayrton replied that it wasn’t necessary, that he could do the work alone and that besides, he feared nothing. If some incident occurred at the corral or in the neighborhood, he would immediately inform the colonists with a telegram to Granite House.

Ayrton therefore left on the 9th at daybreak, leading the cart harnessed to only one onager and two hours later the electric bell announced that he had found everything in order at the corral.

During these two days, Cyrus Smith was occupied with a project which would positively protect Granite House from any surprise. His purpose was to completely conceal the upper opening of the old passageway which had already been cemented and half hidden under grass and plants at the southern corner of Lake Grant. Nothing would be easier since it would suffice to raise the level of the lake by two or three feet so that the opening would then be completely submerged.

Now to raise this level, he had only to build a dam at the two trenches of the lake which fed Glycerin Creek and Grand Falls Creek. The colonists were urged on in this work and two dams, not exceeding seven or eight feet in length and three in height, were quickly erected by means of well cemented lumps of rock.

The colonists were urged on in this work.

With this work completed, it was impossible to guess at which point of the lake there existed a subterranean passage through which the overflow had formerly escaped.

It goes without saying that the small diversion of water which served to supply the Granite House reservoir and to drive the elevator had been carefully spared and that there would be no lack of water in any case. Once the elevator was raised, this secure and comfortable retreat defied any surprise attack.

This task moved forward quickly so that Pencroff, Gideon Spilett and Herbert found the time for a trip to Port Balloon. The sailor wanted very much to know if the small cove in which the Bonadventure had been anchored, had been visited by the convicts.

“To be precise,” he noted, “these gentlemen set foot on the southern coast and if they followed the shoreline it is to be feared that they have discovered the little port in which case I would not give a half-dollar for our Bonadventure .”

Pencroff’s apprehensions were not without some foundation and a visit to Port Balloon seemed to be most opportune.

The sailor and his companions therefore left after lunch on the 10th of November and they were well armed. Pencroff, while conspicuously sliding two balls into each barrel of his gun, shook his head, which did not forebode anything good for whoever came too close, be it “man or beast”, as he said. Gideon Spilett and Herbert also took their weapons and at about three o’clock all three left Granite House.

Neb accompanied them just up to the bend in the Mercy and after they passed he raised the bridge. It was agreed that a gunshot would announce the return of the colonists and that at this signal Neb would return to re-establish communication between the two banks of the river.

The small troop advanced directly by the port route toward the southern coast of the island. It was only a distance of three and a half miles but Gideon Spilett and his companions took two hours to traverse it. They probed all along the route which included the edges of the thick forest which bordered on Tadorn’s marsh. They found no trace of the fugitives who doubtless, still not knowing how many colonists there were nor their means of defense, had gone to the less accessible portions of the island.

On reaching Port Balloon, Pencroff saw with extreme satisfaction that the Bonadventure was tranquilly anchored in the narrow creek. Besides, Port Balloon was so well hidden among these high rocks that it could not be discovered neither from land nor from sea, except if one were higher up or within the cove.

“So then,” said Pencroff, “these rascals still have not been here. Tall grass suits reptiles better, and it is evident that we will find them in the Far West.”

“And that is very fortunate because if they had found the Bonadventure,” added Herbert, “they would have taken possession of it and fled, and that would have prevented us from returning soon to Tabor Island.”

“In fact,” replied the reporter, “it is important that we bring a document there which will make known our situation on Lincoln Island and Ayrton’s new residence, in case the Scotch yacht comes to bring him back.”

“Well, the Bonadventure is always there, Mister Spilett,” replied the sailor. “It and its crew are ready to leave at the first signal.”

“I think, Pencroff, that we should do this as soon as our exploration of the island is completed. It is possible, after all, that this stranger, if we succeed in finding him, knows a great deal about Lincoln Island and about Tabor Island. Let us not forget that he is the incontestable author of the document and perhaps he knows about the return of the yacht.”

“A thousand devils!” shouted Pencroff, “can that be so? This person knows us and we do not know him. If he is a simple castaway, why does he hide himself? We are worthy people, I suppose, and the society of worthy people is not disagreeable to anyone. Did he come here voluntarily? Perhaps he leaves the island whenever it pleases him? Is he still here? Is he no longer here?...”

While chatting, Pencroff, Herbert and Gideon Spilett went on board and surveyed the deck of the Bonadventure. The sailor examined the bitt on which he had fastened the anchor cable and suddenly said:

“Ah! Upon my word,” he shouted, “that’s outrageous!”

“What is it, Pencroff?” asked the reporter.

“It was not I who made this knot!”

And Pencroff pointed to the cord which held the cable fast to the bitt itself, to prevent it from getting atrip of the anchor.

“What, it was not you?” asked Gideon Spilett.

“No! I swear it. This is a reef knot and I am in the habit of making a double half-hitch[1]...”

“You could be mistaken, Pencroff.”

“I am not mistaken,” affirmed the sailor. “The hand does it naturally and the hand is not mistaken.”

“Then have the convicts been on board?” asked Herbert.

“I know nothing about that,” replied Pencroff, “but this much is certain, that the anchor of the Bonadventure was raised and then lowered anew. And hold on! Here is another proof. The cable of the anchor was payed out and its trimming[2] has no wear left at the hawse-hole. I say again that someone used our boat.”

“But if the convicts had helped themselves to it, they would either have ransacked it or fled...”

“Fled!... to where?... to Tabor Island?...” replied Pencroff. “Do you think that they would have taken a chance with such a light boat?”

“Besides, it would be necessary to admit that they know about the islet,” replied the reporter.

“Be it as it may,” said the sailor, “as sure as my name is Bonadventure Pencroff of the Vineyard, our Bonadventure has sailed without us!”

The sailor said this so positively that neither Gideon Spilett nor Herbert could question his word. It was evident that the boat had been moved more or less since Pencroff had brought it to Port Balloon. As to the sailor, he had no doubt that the anchor had been raised and then dropped later to the bottom. Now what was the purpose of these two maneuvers if the boat had not been used for some expedition?

“But how could we not have seen the Bonadventure pass in sight of the island?” noted the reporter, who tried to raise all possible objections.

“Well, Mister Spilett,” replied the sailor, “it would suffice for it to leave at night with a good breeze and in two hours it would be out of sight.”

“Well then,” replied Gideon Spilett, “I ask again what purpose would the convicts have in using the Bonadventure and why, after having used it, would they return it to port?”

“Well, Mister Spilett,” replied the sailor, “let us add that to the list of those inexplicable things and think no more about it. The important thing is that the Bonadventure went and came back. Unfortunately, if the convicts take it a second time, they may not return it to its place.”

“Then Pencroff,” said Herbert, “perhaps it would be prudent to put the Bonadventure in front of Granite House?”

“Yes and no,” replied Pencroff, “or rather no. The mouth of the Mercy is a bad place for a boat and the sea is rough there.”

“But we could haul it up on the sand to the very foot of the Chimneys...”

“Perhaps... yes...,” replied Pencroff. “In any case, since we must leave Granite House for a rather long expedition, I think that the Bonadventure will be more secure here during our absence and that we will do well to leave it here until such time as the island is purged of these rascals.”

“That is also my opinion,” said the reporter. “At least in case of bad weather, it will not be as exposed as it would be at the mouth of the Mercy.”

“But if the convicts come again to pay it a visit!” said Herbert.

“Well, my son,” replied Pencroff, “if they didn’t find it here, they would be quick to look for it in front of Granite House, and during our absence nothing would prevent them from seizing it. I think therefore, as Mister Spilett does, that it should be left at Port Balloon. But when we return, if we have not rid the island of these scoundrels, it would be prudent to bring our boat back to Granite House until such time as we need no longer fear any unpleasant visit.”

“Agreed. Let us be on our way,” said the reporter.

When they returned to Granite House, Pencroff, Herbert and Gideon Spilett let the engineer know what had happened and the latter approved of their arrangement for the present and for the future. He even promised the sailor that he would examine the portion of the channel situated between the islet and the shore in order to see if it would be possible to create an artificial port by means of dams. In this way the Bonadventure would always be within reach, under the colonist’s eyes, and if need be, under lock and key.

That same evening they sent a telegram to Ayrton asking him to bring a couple of goats which Neb wanted to acclimatize to the prairies of the plateau. It was strange that Ayrton did not acknowledge the receipt of the dispatch as he usually did. This did not surprise the engineer. Perhaps at the moment, Ayrton was not at the corral or even on his way back to Granite House. In fact, two days had already passed since his departure and it had been decided that on the 10th toward evening or the morning of the 11th at the latest, he would return.

The colonists therefore waited for Ayrton to show himself at the Grand View heights. Neb and Herbert even waited at the approaches to the bridge in order to lower it as soon as their companion presented himself.

But around ten o’clock in the evening, there was no longer any question about Ayrton. They therefore agreed to send a new dispatch asking for an immediate response.

The Granite House bell remained silent.

The colonists then became very anxious. What had happened? Was Ayrton no longer at the corral or if he was still there, did he no longer have the liberty of his movements? Should they go to the corral on this dark night?

They discussed it. Some wanted to leave, others to stay.

“But,” said Herbert, “perhaps the telegraphic apparatus is broken and is no longer functioning?”

“That may be,” said the reporter.

“Let us wait until tomorrow,” said Cyrus Smith. “It is possible, in fact, that Ayrton has not received our dispatch or even that we have not received his.”

They waited and, as may be imagined, not without a certain anxiety.

At daybreak on the 11th of November, Cyrus Smith again threw the electric current across the wire and received no response.

He tried again: the same result.

“Let’s go to the corral!” he said.

“And well armed,” added Pencroff.

They decided at once that Granite House should not be deserted and that Neb would remain there. After having accompanied his companions to Glycerin Creek, he would raise the bridge and, hiding behind a tree he would watch either for their return or for Ayrton’s return.

In case the pirates presented themselves and tried to cross, he would attempt to stop them with gunfire, and finally he would take refuge inside Granite House where, once the elevator was raised, he would be secure.

Cyrus Smith, Gideon Spilett, Herbert and Pencroff would go directly to the corral and, if they did not find Ayrton there, they would scour the woods in the neighborhood.

At six o’clock in the morning, the engineer and his three companions crossed Glycerin Creek and Neb posted himself behind a slight shoulder which overlooked some large dragon trees on the left bank of the creek.

After having left Grand View Plateau, the colonists immediately took the road to the corral. They carried their guns in their arms ready to fire at the least hostile demonstration. The two carbines and the two rifles had been loaded with ball.

On each side of the road, the woods were thick and could easily hide the malefactors who, thanks to their weapons, would be truly formidable.

The colonists moved quickly and in silence. Top preceded them, sometimes on the road, sometimes making a detour into the woods, but always silent and not appearing to anticipate anything unusual. And they could count on the faithful dog not to leave them in surprise and to bark at the least appearance of danger.

At the same time that they were following the road, Cyrus Smith and his companions were also following the telegraphic wire which linked the corral and Granite House. After travelling for about two miles, they still did not note any break in its continuity. The posts were in good condition, the insulators intact and the wire was properly extended. However, beyond this point, the engineer saw that the tension seemed to diminish and finally at post No. 74, Herbert, who was ahead of the others, stopped and shouted:

“The wire is broken.”

His companions quickened their pace and arrived at the place where the lad had stopped.

There the post was thrown down across the road. The break in the continuity of the wire was thus confirmed and it was evident that the dispatches from Granite House had not been received at the corral nor those of the corral at Granite House.

“It was not the wind that threw over this post,” noted Pencroff.

“It was not the wind that threw over this post.”

“No,” replied Gideon Spilett. “The ground has been dug up around its base and it was uprooted by the hand of man.”

“Besides, the wire is broken,” added Herbert, showing the two ends of the iron wire that had been violently torn apart.

“Is the fracture a recent one?” asked Cyrus Smith.

“Yes,” replied Herbert. “It was certainly ruptured a short time ago.”

“To the corral! to the corral!” shouted the sailor.

The colonists were then midway between Granite House and the corral. Thus there still remained two and a half miles for them to cover. They took to the road.

In fact, it was to be feared that something serious had occurred at the corral. The reason for their anxiety was not the question of the receipt of a telegram from Ayrton but a more inexplicable circumstance, that Ayrton had promised to return on the previous evening and had not done so. Finally, it was not without a motive that all communication had been interrupted between the corral and Granite House and who besides the convicts had any interest in interrupting this communication?

The colonists therefore ran, their hearts gripped with emotion. They were sincerely attached to their new companion. Would they find him wounded by the very men he had once commanded?

Soon they arrived at the place where the road skirted along the small stream leading into Red Creek, which irrigated the prairies of the corral. They then moderated their steps in order not to find themselves out of breath just when a fight might become necessary. The guns did not have their safety catches on but were cocked. Each one surveyed a side of the forest. Top was heard to make some muffled growls which did not auger any good.

Finally the walls of the palisade appeared through the trees. They saw no trace of damage. The door was closed as usual. A profound silence reigned in the corral. Neither the bleating of the sheep nor Ayrton’s voice was heard.

“Let us enter,” said Cyrus Smith.

And the engineer advanced while his companions were on the lookout, twenty feet behind him, ready to fire.

Cyrus Smith lifted the inner latch of the gate and was going to push open one of the swing doors when Top barked violently. A detonation burst out above the palisade and a cry of pain was heard.

A detonation burst out and a cry of pain was heard.

Herbert, struck by a bullet, lay stretched out on the ground!

1. A sort of knot familiar to sailors which has the advantage of always remaining tight.

2. The trimming is a piece of old cloth covering the cable of the anchor so that it will not wear out on the section which passes through the hawse-hole.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Secret of the Island

Chapter VII

The reporter and Pencroff in the corral—Herbert transported—The sailor’s despair—Consultation between the reporter and the engineer—Mode of treatment—They recover some hope—How to warn Neb?—A reliable and faithful messenger—Neb’s reply.

AT Herbert’s cry, Pencroff dropped his weapon and ran toward him.

“They have killed him !” he shouted. “He, my child. They have killed him.”

Cyrus Smith and Gideon Spilett ran toward Herbert. The reporter tried to hear if the poor child’s heart was still beating.

“He lives,” he said, “but he must be carried...”

“To Granite House? That is impossible,” replied the engineer.

“To the corral then!” shouted Pencroff.

“One moment,” said Cyrus Smith.

And he ran to the left to get around the corner of the enclosure. There he saw a convict who, aiming at him, sent a ball through his hat. A few seconds later, before he even had time to fire his second round, he fell, struck in the heart by Cyrus Smith’s dagger, still more reliable than his gun.

During this time, Gideon Spilett and the sailor raised themselves up the corners of the palisade, went over the top, removed the stays which shut the inner door, ran to the house which was empty, and soon poor Herbert was lying on Ayrton’s bed.

A few moment’s later, Cyrus Smith was by his side.

On seeing Herbert unconscious, the sailor’s pain was terrible. He sobbed, he cried, he wanted to knock his head against the wall. Neither the engineer nor the reporter could calm him. They themselves were suffocating with emotion. They could not speak.

Nevertheless it was dependent on them to save this poor child who was dying under their eyes. Gideon Spilett, whose life was strewn with incidents such as these, was not without some practical knowledge about current medicine. He knew a little about everything and he had already encountered many a circumstance in which he had been called upon to attend to wounds produced either by bare arms or by firearms. Assisted by Cyrus Smith, he therefore proceeded to give the attention required by Herbert’s condition.

First of all, the reporter was struck by the general stupor which overwhelmed him, a stupor which was due either to hemorrhage or even to shock, if the bullet struck a bone with sufficient force to cause a violent reaction.

Herbert was extremely pale and his pulse was so weak that Gideon Spilett felt it beat only at long intervals, as if it had been on the point of stopping. During this time, he came to a nearly complete conclusion based on his instinct and knowledge. These symptoms were very serious.

Herbert’s chest was bared and, inasmuch as the bleeding had stopped with the aid of handkerchiefs, his chest was washed with cold water.

The contusion, or rather the wound, became visible. An oval hole existed in his chest between the third and fourth ribs. It was there that the bullet had struck Herbert.

Cyrus Smith and Gideon Spilett then turned the poor child over. He groaned so weakly that they thought it was his last sigh.

Another wound had bloodied Herbert’s back and the bullet which had struck Herbert had directly exited.

“God be praised!” said the reporter, “the bullet did not remain in the body and we will not have to extract it.”

“But the heart?...” asked Cyrus Smith.

“The heart has not been touched, otherwise Herbert would be dead!”

“Dead!” shouted Pencroff, with a roar!

The sailor had only heard the reporter’s last word.

“No, Pencroff,” replied Cyrus Smith, “no! He is not dead. His pulse still beats. He has even uttered a sigh. But in the interests of your child, calm yourself. We have need of all our composure. Let us not lose it, my friend.”

Pencroff was silent but a reaction set in and large tears covered his face.

Nevertheless, Gideon Spilett tried to recall what he knew and to proceed methodically. From what he could see, there was no doubt that the bullet had entered from the front and left at the rear. What ravages had this bullet caused in its passage? What vital organs had it reached? A professional surgeon could hardly say at the moment, nor with better reason could the reporter.

However, he knew one thing: it was that he would have to prevent the inflammatory restriction of the injured parts, and then deal with the local inflammation and the fever which would result from this wound, a mortal wound perhaps. Now what topical medications, what antiphlogistics should be used? By what means could he reduce this inflammation?

In any event, one thing was important, it was that the two wounds should be dressed without delay. It did not seem necessary to Gideon Spilett to bring on a new flow of blood by washing the wounds in lukewarm water and by compressing the lips. The hemorrhage had been very abundant and Herbert was very weak from the loss of blood.

The reporter therefore felt that he must be content with washing the two wounds in cold water.

Herbert was placed on his left side and kept in that position.

“It is not necessary for him to move,” said Gideon Spilett. “He is in the best position for his back and chest wounds to suppurate easily, and rest is absolutely necessary.”

“What! Can’t we carry him to Granite House?” asked Pencroff.

“No, Pencroff,” replied the reporter.

“Curses,” shouted the sailor, with his fist turned toward the sky.

“Pencroff!” said Cyrus Smith.

Gideon Spilett again examined the wounded child carefully. Herbert was so frightfully pale that the reporter was troubled.

“Cyrus,” he said, “I am not a doctor... I am terribly perplexed... You must help me with your advice and your experience...”

“Keep your calm..., my friend,” replied the engineer, seizing the reporter’s hand. “Judge coolly... Think only of this: Herbert must be saved!”

With these words, Gideon Spilett regained possession of himself, which he had lost in a moment of discouragement. He sat down beside the bed. Cyrus Smith remained standing. Pencroff tore his shirt and was mechanically making bandages.

Gideon Spilett then explained to Cyrus Smith that he felt that, before anything else, he must stop the hemorrhage, but not to close the two wounds, nor to encourage their immediate cicatrization, because he had had an interior perforation and he must not let the pus accumulate in the chest.

Cyrus Smith approved completely and it was decided that they would dress the two wounds without trying to close them with immediate coaptation. Very fortunately, it did not seem that an incision was necessary.

And now, did the colonists possess any effective agent to react against the inflammation which would follow?

Yes! They had one, because nature had generously provided it. They had cold water, that is to say the most powerful sedative that can be used against the inflammation of wounds, the most effective therapeutic agent in these serious cases and which is now used by all doctors. Moreover, cold water has the advantage of leaving the wound at absolute rest and to protect it from any premature dressing, a considerable advantage, since it has been demonstrated by experience that contact with air is disastrous during the first few days.

Gideon Spilett and Cyrus Smith reasoned thus with their simple good sense and they acted as the best surgeon would have. Cloth compresses were applied to poor Herbert’s two wounds and they were constantly soaked in cold water.

The sailor had, from the first, lit a fire in the fireplace of the dwelling which did not lack the things necessary for life. Some maple sugar and medicinal herbs—the very ones that the lad had gathered on the banks of Lake Grant—allowed them to make some refreshing drinks and they made him take it without his being aware of it. His fever was extremely high and the entire day and night passed without his regaining consciousness. Herbert’s life hung by a thread and that thread could break at any moment.

The next day, the 12th of November, Cyrus Smith and his companions recovered some hope. Herbert came out of his long stupor. He opened his eyes and recognized Cyrus Smith, the reporter and Pencroff. He said two or three words. He knew nothing of what had happened. They told him and Gideon Spilett asked him to remain absolutely at rest, telling him that his life was not in danger and that his wounds would cicatrize in a few days. Besides, Herbert did not suffer nearly as much and this cold water, which was sprinkled on continually, prevented any inflammation of the wounds. The suppuration established itself in a regular way, the fever did not go higher and they could hope that this terrible wound would not become a catastrophe. Pencroff felt his heart inflate little by little. He was like a sister of charity, like a mother at the bed of her child.

Hebert opened his eyes.

Herbert became drowsy again but his sleep seemed to be better.

“Tell me again that you are hopeful, Mister Spilett!” said Pencroff. “Tell me again that you will save Herbert.”

“Yes, we will save him!” replied the reporter. “The wound is serious and perhaps the bullet has even gone through the lung but the perforation of this organ is not fatal.”

“God has heard you,” repeated Pencroff.

As one can well imagine, during the twenty four hours that they were at the corral, the colonists had no other thought than to care for Herbert. They did not concern themselves either with the danger which could menace them if the convicts returned or with precautions to take for the future.

But on this day, while Pencroff watched at the bed of the patient, Cyrus Smith and the reporter spoke to each other about what it would be best to do.

First of all, they ran through the corral. There was no trace of Ayrton. Had the unfortunate been dragged away by his former accomplices? Had they surprised him in the corral? Had he fought back and succumbed in battle? This last hypothesis was only too likely. When Gideon Spilett had scaled the palisade enclosure, he perfectly saw one of the convicts fleeing from Top by the southern buttress of Mount Franklin. He was among those whose boat had broken up on the rocks at the mouth of the Mercy. Moreover, the one that Cyrus Smith had killed, and whose body was found outside the enclosure, certainly belonged to Bob Harvey’s gang.

As to the corral, it had not been subjected to any devastation. The doors being closed, the domestic animals had not been able to disperse into the forest. They no longer saw any trace of a battle, nor any damage either in the dwelling or at the palisade. Only the munitions with which Ayrton had been provided had disappeared with him.

“The unlucky fellow had been surprised,” said Cyrus Smith, “and since he was a man to defend himself, he succumbed.”

“Yes! That is to be feared,” replied the reporter. “Then doubtless, the convicts installed themselves at the corral where they found everything in abundance and they took to flight when they saw us coming. It is also quite evident that at this moment Ayrton, dead or alive, is no longer here.”

“We must search the forest,” said the engineer, “and rid the island of these scoundrels. Pencroff was not mistaken in his forebodings when he wanted us to hunt them like wild beasts. That would certainly have spared us these misfortunes.”

“Yes,” replied the reporter, “but now we have the right to act without pity.”

“In any case,” said the engineer, “we are forced to wait and to remain at the corral until such time as we can carry Herbert to Granite House without danger.”

“But Neb?” asked the reporter.

“Neb is secure.”

“And if, uneasy at our absence, he risks coming?”

“He must not come!” replied Cyrus Smith vividly. “He will be assassinated en route!”

“It is very likely that he will try to join us.”

“Ah! If the telegraph were still working, we could warn him. But now that is impossible. As to letting Pencroff and Herbert stay here alone, we cannot do that!... Oh well, I will go to Granite House alone.”

“No, no! Cyrus,” replied the reporter, “you must not expose yourself! Your courage will accomplish nothing. These wretches are evidently watching the corral, they are lying in wait in the thick woods which surround it and if you leave, we will soon have two misfortunes to regret instead of one.”

“But Neb?” repeated the engineer. “It is twenty four hours since he has had any news from us. He will want to come.”

“And since he will be less on his guard than we ourselves would be,” replied Gideon Spilett, “he will be struck down...”

“Isn’t there any way to prevent it?”

While the engineer was thinking, his attention fell on Top who, by his going to and fro, seemed to say:

“Am I not here?”

“Top!” shouted Cyrus Smith.

The animal rushed forward at his master’s call.

“Yes, Top will go,” said the reporter, who understood the engineer. “Top can go where we cannot go. He will carry news from the corral to Granite House and he will bring it back to us from Granite House.”

“Quickly!” replied Cyrus Smith. “Quickly!”

Gideon Spilett rapidly tore out a page from his notebook and he wrote these lines:

“Herbert wounded. We are at the corral. Be on your guard. Do not leave Granite House. Have the convicts appeared in the neighborhood? Reply by Top.”

This laconic note contained all Neb had to know and at the same time asked him all that the colonists had an interest in knowing. It was folded and attached to Top’s collar so as to be plainly visible.

“Top! my dog,” the engineer then said, caressing the animal. “Neb, Top! Neb! Go! go!”

Top dashed forward at these words. He understood what was required of him. He was familiar with the road to the corral. In less than a half-hour, he could make this trip which neither Cyrus Smith nor the reporter could chance without danger. Top, running among the tall grass or at the edge of the wood, would pass unnoticed.

The engineer went to the doors of the corral and opened one.

“Neb! Top, Neb,” the engineer repeated once more, extending his hand in the direction of Granite House.

“Neb! Top, Neb,” repeated the engineer.

Top dashed out and disappeared almost immediately.

“He will get there!” said the reporter.

“Yes, and the faithful animal will return.”

“What time is it?” asked Gideon Spilett.

“Ten o’clock.”

“In an hour he will be here perhaps. Let us be on the lookout for his return.”

The door of the corral was closed again. The engineer and the reporter returned to the house. Herbert was then in a deep stupor. Pencroff continually kept his compresses wet. Gideon Spilett, seeing that he had nothing to do at the moment, occupied himself with preparing some nourishment, all the while carefully watching that part of the enclosure facing the buttress, from which an attack could come.

The colonists waited for Top’s return not without anxiety. A little after eleven o’clock, Cyrus Smith and the reporter, with carbine in hand, were behind the door ready to open it at the first bark from their dog. They had no doubt that if Top had fortunately been able to arrive at Granite House, Neb would immediately send him back.

They were both there for about ten minutes when a detonation was heard which was soon followed by repeated barking.

The engineer opened the door and, seeing the remains of smoke a hundred feet into the woods, he fired in that direction.

Almost immediately Top rushed into the corral whose door was quickly closed again.

“Top, Top!” shouted the engineer, taking the fine large head of the dog into his arms.

A note was attached to his neck and Cyrus Smith read these words, written out in Neb’s large handwriting:

“No pirates in the neighborhood of Granite House. I will not stir. Poor Mister Herbert.”

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Secret of the Island

Chapter VIII

The convicts in the neighborhood of the corral—Temporary arrangements—Continuation of Herbert's treatment—Pencroff's first jubilations—Reviewing the past—What is in store for the future—Cyrus Smith's ideas on this subject.

THUS, the convicts were still there, spying on the corral, and intent on killing the colonists one by one! There was nothing to do but treat them like wild beasts. But many precautions must be taken because these wretches had, at the moment, the advantage of the situation, being able to see yet not being seen, able to surprise by sudden attack yet not subject to surprise.

Cyrus Smith made arrangements for living at the corral where the provisions would suffice for a rather long time. Ayrton’s house had been provided with all that was necessary for life and the convicts, frightened by the arrival of the colonists, had not had time to pillage it. It was probable, as the reporter noted, that things had happened as follows: The six convicts, landing on the island, had followed the southern shore and after having doubled Serpentine Peninsula and not in the humor to venture into the woods of the Far West, they reached the mouth of Falls River. Once at this point, they ascended the right bank of the watercourse and arrived at the buttresses of Mount Franklin. It was natural that they would search for some retreat there, and they were not long in discovering the corral, then uninhabited. There they dug in, waiting for the moment to put their abominable plans into execution. Ayrton’s arrival surprised them but they had succeeded in overcoming the unlucky fellow and... the rest can be imagined.

Now the convicts—reduced to five it is true, but well armed—roamed the woods and to venture there would be to expose themselves to their fire, which they could do nothing to stop nor prevent.

“Let us wait! There is nothing else we can do,” repeated Cyrus Smith. “When Herbert will have recovered, we will be able to scour the island and get the better of these convicts. That will be the object of our grand expedition, while at the same time...”

“We will search it for our mysterious protector,” added Gideon Spilett, finishing the engineer’s sentence. “Ah, it must be admitted, my dear Cyrus, that this time his protection is in default at the very moment when we are most in need of it.”

“Who knows!” replied the engineer.

“What are you trying to say?” asked the reporter.

“That we are not at the end of our troubles, my dear Spilett, and that his powerful intervention will perhaps still have occasion to exercise itself. But it has not acted now. Herbert’s life before anything else.”

This was the colonists’ most painful preoccupation. Several days passed and the poor lad’s condition had fortunately not grown worse. Now this was gaining much over the illness. The cold water, which was always maintained at a suitable temperature, had absolutely prevented the inflammation of the wounds. It even seemed to the reporter that this water, which was a little sulphurous—this was explained by the vicinity of the volcano—had a most direct action on the cicatrization. The pus was much less abundant and thanks to the incessant care with which he was surrounded, Herbert came back to life and his fever tended to diminish. He was, besides, under a severe diet and consequently his weakness was and had to be extreme; but there was no lack of healthful beverages and absolute rest did him a world of good.

Cyrus Smith, Gideon Spilett and Pencroff became very proficient at dressing the young invalid. All the linen in the dwelling had been sacrificed. Herbert’s wounds were covered again with compresses and linen, neither too tight nor too loose, so as to allow their cicatrization without bringing on an inflammatory reaction. The reporter applied these dressings with extreme care knowing full well that it was important and he repeated to his companions what the majority of physicians willingly recognize: that it is perhaps rarer to see a dressing well done than an operation well done.

At the end of ten days, the 22nd of November, Herbert was definitely improving. He began to take some nourishment. The color returned to his cheeks and he smiled at his nurses. He chatted a little in spite of Pencroff’s efforts to speak to him all the time with the most unlikely tales to prevent him from speaking. Herbert questioned him on the subject of Ayrton. He was astonished not to see him near him, thinking that he must be at the corral, but the sailor, not wanting to distress Herbert, was content to reply that Ayrton had rejoined Neb in order to defend Granite House.

“Hey!” he said, “these pirates! Here are gentlemen who have no right to any consideration. And Mister Smith wanted to pay them his compliments! I will send them compliments myself with bullets from a gun.”

“And have they been seen again?” asked Herbert.

“No, my child,” replied the sailor, “but we will find them again, and when you will recover we will see if these cowards who shoot in the back will dare to attack us face to face.”

“I am still weak, my poor Pencroff.”

“I am still weak, my poor Pencroff.”

“Well! Your strength will come back little by little. What is a bullet through the chest? A simple joke. I have seen many others and I am not impressed.”

Everything seemed to be for the best and if no complication intervened, Herbert’s recovery could be regarded as assured. But what would have been the colonists’ situation if his condition had been aggravated, if for example, the bullet had remained in the body or if his arms or his legs had to be amputated.

“No,” Gideon Spilett said once more, “I have never thought of such an eventuality without shuddering.”

“And yet, if it had been necessary to do it,” Cyrus Smith asked him one day, “would you not have hesitated?”

“No, Cyrus!” said Gideon Spilett, “but thank God we were spared this complication.”

As in many other such circumstances, the colonists had appealed to the logic of simple common sense which served them much of the time and once again, thanks to their general knowledge, they had succeeded. But would there come a time when all their science would be of no avail? They were alone on this island. Now men complement each other in society. They need each other. Cyrus Smith knew this well and several times he asked himself if some circumstance would arise which they would be powerless to overcome.

Besides, it seemed to him that his companions and he, who were so fortunate until now, were entering an unlucky period. Since the more than two and a half years that they had escaped from Richmond, they could say that everything had gone their way. The island had furnished them abundantly with minerals, vegetables and animals, and if nature had been constantly generous to them, their science had known how to do its share with what was offered to them. The material well being of the colony was complete, so to say. Then again, in certain circumstances an unexplained influence had come to their aid... But all that could only be for a time!

In short, Cyrus Smith thought that luck was turning against them.

In fact, the convicts’ vessel had appeared in the waters of the island and if these pirates had been, so to speak, miraculously destroyed, six of them at least had escaped the catastrophe. They had landed on the island and the five who survived were very nearly unassailable. Ayrton doubtless had been massacred by these wretches who possessed firearms and at the first use that they had made of it, Herbert fell almost mortally wounded. Were these then the first strokes of a contrary fortune directed against the colonists? That is what Cyrus Smith asked himself. That is what he often repeated to the reporter and it seemed to them that this strange but effective intervention which had served them until now, was now in default. Had this mysterious being, whoever he was, whose existence they could not deny, had he then abandoned the island? Had he succumbed in his turn?

No response was possible to these questions. But we must not imagine that because Cyrus Smith and his companion spoke of these things that they were men to despair. Far from that. They looked the situation in the face, they analyzed their chances, they prepared themselves for any eventuality, they stood firm and straight before the future and if adversity should finally strike them, it would find men prepared to combat it.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Secret of the Island

Chapter IX

They are without news from Neb—A proposal by Pencroff and by the reporter which is not accepted—Some sorties by Gideon Spilett—A piece of material—A message—Hasty departure—Arrival at Grand View Plateau.

THE convalescence of the young patient went along at a regular pace. The only thing to be desired was that his condition would allow them to take him to Granite House. However acceptable were the arrangements and provisions at the house at the corral, they could not find there the comfort of the solid granite dwelling. Besides, it did not offer the same security and its hosts, in spite of their surveillance, were always under the menace of gunfire from the convicts. At Granite House on the contrary, in this impregnable and inaccessible mass, they would have nothing to fear and any attempt against them would definitely miscarry. They therefore waited impatiently for the time when Herbert could be taken there without danger to his wounds. They had decided to make this move even though communications across Jacamar Woods were very difficult.

They were without news from Neb but without anxiety about him. The courageous negro, well entrenched within the depths of Granite House, would not allow himself to be surprised. Top had not been sent back to him and it seemed useless to expose the faithful dog to some gunshot which would deprive the colonists of their most useful auxiliary.

They therefore waited but the colonists were in a hurry to be reunited at Granite House. It troubled the engineer to see his forces divided because it would make it easy for the pirates. Since Ayrton’s disappearance it was only four against five because they still could not count on Herbert and this was not the least of the poor child’s worries. He well understood the difficulty of which he was the cause.

The question of knowing, under actual conditions, how they should deal with the convicts was treated in depth on the 29th of November by Cyrus Smith, Gideon Spilett and Pencroff at a time when Herbert was in a stupor and could not hear them.

“My friends,” said the reporter, after they had discussed the question of Neb and the impossibility of communicating with him, “I believe as you do that to chance ourselves on the corral road would be to risk receiving a gunshot without being able to return fire. But don’t you think it would be best now to search anew for these scoundrels?”

“That is what I think,” replied Pencroff. “We are not, I suppose, afraid of a bullet and as far as I am concerned, if Mister Cyrus approves, I am ready to dash into the forest. The devil! One man is equal to another!”

“But is he equal to five?” asked the engineer.

“I would join Pencroff,” replied the reporter, “and the two of us, well armed and accompanied by Top...”

“My dear Spilett, and you Pencroff,” replied Cyrus Smith, “stop and think. If the convicts were hidden at some spot on the island, if this spot was known to us and if it were only a matter of dislodging them, I would understand a direct attack. But shouldn’t we fear, on the contrary, that they would assuredly fire the first round?”

“Well, Mister Cyrus,” cried Pencroff, “a bullet does not always reach its destination.”

“The one which struck Herbert did not go astray, Pencroff,” said the engineer. “Besides, bear in mind that if both of you leave the corral, I would remain here alone to defend it. Tell me that when the convicts saw you leave, that they would not let you get into the forest and that they would not attack during your absence knowing that no one was here except a wounded child and one man.”

“You are right, Mister Cyrus,” replied Pencroff, with a muted rage that inflated his chest, “you are right. They would do anything to recapture the corral knowing that it is well stocked. And by yourself you would not be able to hold out against them. Ah! if we were only at Granite House!”

“If we were at Granite House,” replied the engineer, “the situation would be very different. There I would not be afraid to leave Herbert with one of us and the other three would go to search the forests of the island. But we are at the corral and it is best to remain here until such time as we can leave it together.”

There was no reply to be made to Cyrus Smith’s logic and his companions understood it well.

“If only Ayrton was still with us,” said Gideon Spilett. “Poor man! His return to social life was only of short duration!”

“That is if he is dead?...” added Pencroff in a rather strange tone.

“Do you think then, Pencroff, that these scoundrels spared him?” asked Gideon Spilett.

“Yes, if it were in their interest to do so!”

“What! do you suppose that Ayrton, on finding his former accomplices, would forget everything that he owes us...”

“Who knows?” replied the sailor, who did not hazard this unfortunate supposition without hesitation.

“Pencroff,” said Cyrus Smith, taking the sailor by the arms, “you have an evil thought there and you will cause me much distress if you persist in speaking in this way. I guarantee Ayrton’s loyalty!”

“I also,” added the reporter vividly.

“Yes... yes!... Mister Cyrus... I am wrong,” replied Pencroff. “In fact, that is an evil thought that I had there and nothing justifies it! But what do you want? I am no longer in control of myself. This imprisonment at the corral weighs terribly on me and I have never been as overexcited as I am now.”

“Be patient, Pencroff,” replied the engineer. “How much time, my dear Spilett, do you think it will be until Herbert can be transported to Granite House?”

“That is difficult to say, Cyrus,” replied the reporter, “because one imprudent move could bring on fatal consequences. However, if his convalescence is routine and if in eight days from now his strength returns to him, well, we will see.”

Eight days! That would put off the return to Granite House until the first days of December.

At this time of the year, spring was already two months old. The weather was fine and the heat began to be felt. The forests of the island were in full foliage and the time was coming when the usual harvesting would have to be made. The return to Grand View Plateau would then be followed by hard agricultural work which would only be interrupted by the planned exploration of the island.

We can therefore appreciate that the imprisonment at the corral was not beneficial to the colonists. But if they were obliged to bow to necessity, they did not do so without impatience.

Once or twice the reporter took a chance and went around the palisaded enclosure. Top accompanied him and Gideon Spilett, his carbine loaded, was ready for any eventuality.

Gideon Spilette was ready for any eventuality.

There were no ill encounters and nothing suspicious was found. The dog would have alerted him to any danger and since Top did not bark, he could conclude that there was nothing to fear for the moment at least and that the convicts were occupied on 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 to the south of the mountain, noticed that Top sensed something. The dog’s pace was no longer at random; he went to and fro rummaging through the grass and undergrowth as if his sense of smell had been aroused by some suspicious object.

Gideon Spilett followed Top, encouraged him, excited him with his voice, all the while on the alert, carbine to his shoulder and profiting from the shelter of the trees to cover himself. It was not likely that Top sensed the presence of a man because in that case he would have announced it with short barks and with a sort of muted anger. Since he heard no such growling, then the danger was neither near nor soon.

About five minutes passed in this way with Top rummaging and the reporter prudently following him when suddenly the dog dashed toward a thick bush and drew out a stuffed rag.

It was a piece of torn and stained clothing which Gideon Spilett took to the corral at once.

There the colonists examined it and they recognized it as a piece of Ayrton’s jacket, a piece of that felt made only at the Granite House workshop.

“You see from this, Pencroff,” noted Cyrus Smith, “that there was resistance on the part of the unfortunate Ayrton. The convicts dragged him out in spite of himself. Do you still doubt his loyalty?”

“No, Mister Cyrus,” replied the sailor, “and it has been a long time since I have entertained even a momentary suspicion! But it seems to me that there is one conclusion that can be drawn from this fact.”

“Which is?” asked the reporter.

“It is that Ayrton was not killed at the corral. It is that they dragged him away still living since he has resisted. Now then, perhaps he is still alive.”

“Perhaps,” replied the engineer, who remained pensive.

That was a thought which could give Ayrton’s companions some hope. In fact, they had been led to believe that, surprised at the corral, Ayrton had fallen under some bullet, as had Herbert. But if the convicts had not first killed him, if they had taken him away living to some other part of the island, could it not be admitted that he was still their prisoner? Perhaps one of them had found again in Ayrton a former companion from Australia, Ben Joyce, the chief of the escaped convicts. And who knows if they did not conceive the impossible hope of getting Ayrton to join them. He would even have been very useful to them if they could make a traitor of him!...

This incident was thus favorably interpreted at the corral and it no longer seemed impossible that they would find Ayrton again. On his side, if he was a prisoner, Ayrton would doubtless do everything to escape from the hands of these bandits and this would be a powerful auxiliary for the colonists.

“In any case,” Gideon Spilett noted, “if by any good fortune Ayrton succeeds in saving himself, it will be to Granite House that he will immediately go because he will not know of the attempted assassination whose victim was Herbert, and consequently he will not know that we are imprisoned at the corral.”

“Ah! I wish that he was there, at Granite House, and that we were also there. Because eventually, if the rascals could do nothing against our dwelling, wouldn’t they be able at least to pillage the plateau, our plantations, our poultry yard!”

Pencroff had become a real farmer, endeared at heart to his harvests. But it must be said that Herbert was more impatient than anyone else to return to Granite House because he knew how necessary the colonists’ presence there was. And it was he who kept them at the corral. Only one idea was on his mind: to leave the corral, to leave it himself! He felt that he was strong enough for the trip to Granite House. He was sure that his strength would return faster in his room with the fresh air and the view of the sea.

Several times he pressed Gideon Spilett but the latter fearing, with reason, that Herbert’s badly cicatrized wounds would reopen during the trip, did not give the order to leave.

However, an incident occurred which forced Cyrus Smith and his two friends to yield to the lad’s wishes and God knows that this decision could cause pain and remorse.

It was the 29th of November, seven o’clock in the morning. The three colonists were chatting in Herbert’s room when they heard Top uttering vivid barks.

Cyrus Smith, Pencroff and Gideon Spilett seized their guns which were always ready to fire and left the house.

Top ran to the foot of the palisaded enclosure, jumped about and barked but it was with contentment not anger.

“Someone is coming.”

“Yes!”

“It is not an enemy.”

“Neb perhaps?”

“Or Ayrton?”

Hardly had these words been exchanged between the engineer and his two companions when a body bounded over the palisade and fell on to the ground in the corral.

It was Jup, Master Jup in person to whom Top gave a hearty welcome.

“Jup!” shouted Pencroff.

“It is Neb who sent him!” said the reporter.

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

Pencroff rushed toward the orang. Evidently if Neb had wanted to send some important information to his master he could not have used a more reliable and rapid messenger who could pass where neither the colonists nor Top himself could.

Cyrus Smith was not mistaken. A sack hung from Jup’s neck and in this sack they found a note traced out in Neb’s hand.

Judge their despair when Cyrus Smith and his companions read these words:

“Friday, 6 o’clock in the morning. “Plateau invaded by the convicts!

“Neb.”

They looked at each other without saying a word, then they went back to the house. What should they do? The convicts on Grand View Plateau, it was disaster, devastation, ruin!

Herbert, on seeing the engineer, the reporter and Pencroff re-enter, knew that the situation had become aggravated and when he saw Jup he no longer doubted that some danger threatened Granite House.

“Mister Cyrus,” he said, “I want to leave. I can endure the trip. I want to leave.”

Gideon Spilett approached Herbert. Then after he looked at him he said, “Let us leave then.”

The question was quickly decided as to whether Herbert would be carried on a stretcher or in the cart which had been brought to the corral by Ayrton. The stretcher would have a gentler motion for the patient but it would necessitate two bearers, that is to say two fewer guns for defense if there should be an attack on the way.

Would all hands be available, on the contrary, if they used the cart? Was it possible to put a mattress there on which Herbert would rest and to advance carefully so as to avoid any shock? They could do that.

The cart was brought out. Pencroff harnessed the onager to it. Cyrus Smith and the reporter picked up Herbert’s mattress and put it on the bottom of the cart between the two rails.

The cart was brought out. Pencroff harnessed the onager to it.

The weather was fine. The vivid rays of the sun shown through the trees.

“Are the weapons ready?” asked Cyrus Smith.

They were. The engineer and Pencroff, each armed with a double barreled gun, and Gideon Spilett, holding his carbine, had only to leave.

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

“Ah, Mister Cyrus,” replied the lad, “be calm. I will not die enroute!”

In speaking thus they saw that with a supreme will the poor child was mustering all his strength which was about to give way.

The engineer felt a pain in his heart. He still hesitated to give the signal for departure. But that would drive Herbert to despair, to kill him perhaps.

“Let’s go!” said Cyrus Smith.

The door of the corral was opened. Jup and Top, who knew that they must be silent, rushed on ahead. The cart left, the door was closed again and the onager, directed by Pencroff, advanced slowly.

Certainly it would have been better to take a route other than the one which went directly from the corral to Granite House but it would prove to be very difficult for the cart to move through the woods. Thus it was best to follow the regular path even though it was well known to the convicts.

Cyrus Smith and Gideon Spilett walked on either side of the cart ready to respond to any attack. It was not likely however, that the convicts had yet abandoned Grand View Plateau. Neb’s note had evidently been written and sent as soon as the convicts had shown themselves. Now this note had been dated six o’clock in the morning and the agile orang, accustomed to go to the corral frequently, could hardly have taken more than three quarters of an hour to cross the five miles which separated it from Granite House. The road was therefore safe at the moment and if there was any gunfire it would really occur closer to Granite House.

However, the colonists remained strictly on guard. Top and Jup, the latter armed with his cudgel, sometimes in front, sometimes thrashing about the woods at the edge of the road, did not signal any danger.

The cart advanced slowly under Pencroff’s direction. They had left the corral at seven thirty. One hour later, four of the five miles had been covered without incident.

The road was deserted over all of this part of Jacamar Woods which extended from the Mercy to the lake. No alert took place. The brushwood seemed to be as deserted as on the day when the colonists first set foot on the island.

They approached the plateau. One more mile and they would see the bridge over Glycerin Creek. Cyrus Smith did not doubt that this bridge would be in place because either the convicts had entered the plateau at this spot or, after having crossed one of the watercourses which surrounded the enclosure, they would have taken the precaution of lowering the bridge in order to beat a retreat.

Finally an opening in the last trees allowed them to see the sea’s horizon. But the cart continued its journey since none of the defenders would think of abandoning it.

At this moment Pencroff halted the onager and shouted in a terrible voice.

“Ah, the scoundrels.”

And his hand pointed to a thick smoke which was twirling above the mill, the stables and the poultry yard.

A man was dashing about amidst the smoke.

It was Neb.

His companions shouted. He heard them and ran toward them...

The convicts had abandoned the plateau about a half-hour earlier after having devastated it.

“And Mister Herbert?” shouted Neb.

Gideon Spilett returned for a moment to the cart.

Herbert had lost consciousness.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Secret of the Island

Chapter X

Herbert carried to Granite House—Neb relates what occurred—Cyrus Smith’s visit to the plateau—Ruin and devastation—The colonists are disarmed by the malady—Willow bark—Mortal fever—Top barks again!

THERE was no longer any question of the convicts or the dangers which menaced Granite House or the ruins which covered the plateau. Herbert’s condition dominated everything. Had the trip been disastrous for him by provoking some internal injury? The reporter could not say but his companions and he were driven to despair.

The cart was brought to the bend in the river. There a few branches were arranged in the form of a stretcher which received the mattress on which Herbert was lying unconsciousness. Ten minutes later Cyrus Smith, Gideon Spilett and Pencroff were at the foot of the wall, leaving to Neb the task of bringing the cart back to Grand View Plateau.

The elevator was put in motion and soon Herbert was lying on his bed in Granite House.

The elevator was put in motion.

The cares which were lavished on him brought him back to life. He smiled for a moment on finding himself once again in his room but he could barely murmur a few words because he was so feeble.

Gideon Spilett examined his wounds. He feared that they had opened since they had cicatrized imperfectly... that had not happened. From whence came this prostration? Why had Herbert’s condition grown worse?

The lad lapsed into a sort of feverish sleep and the reporter and Pencroff remained near his bed.

During this time Cyrus Smith brought Neb up to date on what had occurred at the corral and Neb related to his master those events in which the plateau had been the theater.

It was only during the preceding night that the convicts had shown themselves at the edge of the forest at the approaches to Glycerin Creek. Neb, who was on the watch near the poultry yard, had not hesitated to fire on one of these pirates who was about to cross the watercourse; but the night was obscure and he did not know if he had shot the wretch. In any case, this was not sufficient to scatter the gang and Neb had only enough time to get back to Granite House where he was at least safe.

But what could he do then? How could he prevent the devastations which the convicts threatened for the plateau? Did Neb have some means of warning his master? And moreover, in what situation would the hosts of the corral find themselves?

Cyrus Smith and his companions had been gone since the 11th of November and it was now the 29th. It was therefore nineteen days since Neb had had any news other than that which Top had brought him, disastrous news: Ayrton disappeared, Herbert seriously wounded, the engineer, the reporter, the sailor so to speak imprisoned in the corral!

What could he do, poor Neb asked himself? For himself personally he had nothing to fear because the convicts could not get into Granite House. But the constructions, the plantations and these developments would all be at the mercy of the pirates! Shouldn’t he let Cyrus Smith judge what it would be best to do by warning him at least of the menacing danger?

Neb then thought of using Jup by entrusting him with a note. He knew of the orang’s extreme intelligence, which had often been put to the test. Jup knew the word corral, which had often been mentioned in his presence, and he remembered that Jup had often driven the cart there in Pencroff’s company. Day had still not appeared. The agile orang well knew how to pass through the woods unnoticed. Besides, the convicts would think that he was one of the natural inhabitants.

Neb did not hesitate. He wrote the note, he attached it to Jup’s neck, he escorted the ape to the Granite House door and unrolled a long cord to the ground; then he repeated these words several times:

“Jup! Jup! corral! corral!”

The animal understood, seized the cord, quickly let himself down to the beach and disappeared into the darkness without arousing the attention of the convicts.

“You did well, Neb,” replied Cyrus Smith, “but if you had not warned us perhaps you would have acted even better.”

And on saying this, Cyrus Smith was thinking of Herbert since the trip seemed to have so seriously compromised his convalescence.

Neb finished his recital. The convicts had not shown themselves on the beach. Not knowing the number of inhabitants on the island, they could suppose that Granite House was defended by a large troop. They would have remembered that during the brig’s attack, many gunshots had greeted them as much from low level rocks as higher ones and doubtless they did not wish to expose themselves. But Grand View Plateau was open to them and not in the line of fire from Granite House. They therefore gave in to their instinct for plundering, pillaging and arson, heaping destruction upon destruction and leaving only a half hour before the arrival of the colonists who they thought were still confined at the corral.

Neb rushed out of his retreat. He ascended the plateau and at the risk of being shot, he tried to extinguish the fire which was burning over the poultry yard. He fought a losing battle against the fire until the moment when the cart appeared at the edge of the woods.

Such had been the serious events. The presence of the convicts constituted a permanent menace to the Lincoln Island colonists, so fortunate until now. They could expect still more serious misfortunes.

Gideon Spilett and Pencroff remained at Granite House near Herbert, while Cyrus Smith, accompanied by Neb, went to judge for himself 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 not have escaped destruction. But perhaps this damage would have been easier to repair than the ruins on Grand View Plateau.

Cyrus Smith and Neb went toward the Mercy and ascended the left bank without encountering any trace of the passage of the convicts. On the other side of the river, they saw nothing suspicious in the thick woods.

In all probability they must suppose that either the convicts knew about the return of the colonists to Granite House because they had seen them pass on the road from the corral, or else, following the course of the Mercy, they had driven into Jacamar Woods after the devastation of the plateau, and they were ignorant of their return.

In the first case, they would return to the corral now without defenders, which contained precious resources for them.

In the second, they would go back to their encampment and wait there for some occasion to renew the attack.

They must forestall this; but any enterprise intended to rid them from the island was still subordinate to Herbert’s condition. In fact, Cyrus Smith did not have too many hands and no one could leave Granite House at the moment.

The engineer and Neb reached the plateau. Desolation was everywhere. The fields had been trampled on. The ears of corn, which were going to be harvested, were lying on the ground. The other plantations had not suffered less. The kitchen garden was wrecked. Fortunately Granite House possessed a reserve of seed which would allow the damage to be repaired.

As to the mill, the construction at the poultry yard and the onager’s stable, the fire had destroyed everything. Several animals were roaming in a fright across the plateau. The birds, who had taken refuge during the fire on the waters of the lake, were already returning to their usual places on the banks. Everything must be redone.

The figure of Cyrus Smith, more pale than usual, denoted an interior anger which he could hardly control but he did not say a word. One last time he looked at the devastated fields, the smoke still rising from the ruins, and then he returned to Granite House.

The days which followed were the saddest that the colonists had ever passed on the island. Herbert’s weakness was obviously increasing. It seemed that a most serious illness, the consequence of the deep physiological disorder that he had undergone, was threatening to erupt, and Gideon Spilett sensed that he would be powerless against such an aggravation of his condition.

In fact, Herbert remained in an almost continuous stupor and symptoms of delirium began to manifest themselves. The medicinal beverages were the only remedies available to the colonists. The fever was still not very high but it seemed that before long it would come on through regular attacks.

Gideon Spilett recognized it on the 6th of December. The poor lad, whose fingers, nose and ears became extremely pale, was first seized by active shivers, horripilations, and trembling. His pulse was weak and irregular, his skin dry and his thirst intense. This episode was soon succeeded by a period of high temperature; his face became animated, his skin red and his pulse accelerated; then he sweated profusely after which the fever appeared to diminish. The attack had lasted about five hours.

Gideon Spilett had not left Herbert, who was now subject to an intermittent fever. It was only too obvious that at any cost they must reduce this fever before it became more serious.

“And to reduce it,” said Gideon Spilett to Cyrus Smith, “we need a febrifuge.”

“A febrifuge!...” replied the engineer. “We have neither Peruvian bark nor sulphate of quinine!”

“No,” said Gideon Spilett, “but there are willows on the borders of the lake and willow bark can sometimes replace quinine.”

“Let us try it then without losing a moment!” replied Cyrus Smith.

In fact willow bark as well as the horse chestnut, the leaf of the holly and the snake root are justly considered substitutes for Peruvian bark. Evidently they must try this substance even though it was not as effective as Peruvian bark and to use it in its natural state since they lacked the means to extract the alkaloid, that is to say the salicin.

Cyrus Smith went himself to cut off some pieces of bark from the trunk of a species of black willow; he took it to Granite House, he reduced it to a powder and this powder was administered to Herbert that very evening.

The night passed without serious incidents. Herbert had some delirium but the fever did not reappear during the night and did not return on the following day.

Pencroff began to take hope. Gideon Spilett said nothing. It could be that the intermittent character of the fever was not a daily one but a three day one, in a word, that it would return the next day. They awaited the next day with the greatest anxiety.

It must besides be noted that during the apyretic period, Herbert remained fatigued with his head feeling heavy and giddy. Another symptom which frightened the reporter to the last extremity; Herbert’s liver became congested and soon a very intense delirium showed that his brain was also affected.

Gideon Spilett was overwhelmed by this new complication. He drew the engineer aside.

“It is a pernicious fever!” he told him.

“A pernicious fever!” cried Cyrus Smith. “You are mistaken, Spilett. A pernicious fever does not declare itself spontaneously. There must be a germ!...”

“I am not mistaken,” replied the reporter. “Herbert may have contracted this germ in the marshes of the island and that would suffice. He has already experienced a first attack. If a second attack follows and if we do not succeed in preventing the third... he is lost!...”

“But this willow bark?...”

“It is insufficient,” replied the reporter, “and a third attack of pernicious fever that is not treated with quinine is always fatal!”

Fortunately Pencroff heard nothing of this conversation or he would have gone mad.

One can understand the engineer’s and the reporter’s anxieties during this day of the 7th of December and during the night which followed.

About the middle of the day, the second attack came on. The crisis was terrible. Herbert felt that he was lost! He held out his arms to Cyrus Smith, to Spilett and to Pencroff. He did not want to die!... This scene was heart rending. They had to send Pencroff away.

The attack lasted five hours. It was evident that Herbert would not withstand a third.

The night was frightful. In his delirium, Herbert said heart breaking things to his companions. He rambled on, he fought against the convicts, he called to Ayrton! He entreated this mysterious being, this now disappeared protector whose image obsessed him... Then he fell back in a deep prostration which overwhelmed him completely... Several times Gideon Spilett thought that the poor boy was dead!

The next day, the 8th of December, was a succession of fainting fits. Herbert’s emaciated hands clenched the bedsheets. They administered additional doses of powdered 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 die!”

Night came on—the last night doubtless of this good, intelligent, courageous lad, so superior for his age, and whom everyone loved like their son! The only remedy that existed to counter this terrible pernicious fever, the only specific which could defeat it, was not to be found on Lincoln Island!

During this night of the 8th to the 9th of December, Herbert was again seized by a very intense delirium. His liver was horribly congested, his brain affected and already it was impossible for him to recognize anyone.

Would he live to the next day until the third attack which would certainly carry him off? That was no longer likely. His strength was exhausted and during intervals in the crises he was like dead.

About three o’clock in the morning, Herbert let out a frightful cry. He seemed to writhe with a supreme convulsion. Neb, who was near him, was frightened and rushed into the next room where his companions were watching.

At this moment Top barked in a strange way.

Everyone soon went over and they succeeded in holding down the dying lad who wanted to throw himself off his bed, while Gideon Spilett felt his pulse growing weaker little by little.

It was five o’clock in the morning. The rays of the rising sun began to shine into the rooms of Granite House. It promised to be a fine day and this day would be poor Herbert’s last...

A ray shown on the table which was near the bed.

Suddenly Pencroff uttered a cry and pointed to an object placed on the table...

Pencroff pointed to an object placed on the table...

It was a small oblong box with these words on it:

Sulphate of Quinine.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Secret of the Island

Chapter XI

Inexplicable mystery—Herbert’s convalescence—Parts of the island to explore—Preparations for departure—The first day—Night—Second day—The kauris—The cassowary couple—Footprints in the forest—Arrival at Reptile Promontory.

GIDEON SPILETT took the box and opened it. It contained about two hundred grains of a white powder, a few particles of which he carried to his lips. The extreme bitterness of this substance could not be mistaken. It certainly was the precious alkaloid of Peruvian bark, the pre-eminent anti-periodic.

He had to administer this powder to Herbert without hesitating. How it got there, they would discuss later.

“Some coffee,” said Gideon Spilett.

A few moments later Neb brought over a lukewarm cup of the infusion. Gideon Spilett threw in about eighteen grains[1] of quinine and they succeeded in making Herbert drink the mixture.

There was still time because the third attack of the pernicious fever had not manifested itself.

And it may be added, that it must not return!

Besides, it is necessary to say, everyone had recovered hope. The mysterious influence had been exercised anew and in a supreme moment, when they had despaired of it!...

After a few hours Herbert was resting peacefully. The colonists could then discuss this incident. The intervention of the stranger was more evident than ever. But how had he been able to get into Granite House during the night? It was absolutely inexplicable and in truth, the means used by the “genie of the island” were no less strange than the genie himself.

During this day, the sulphate of quinine was administered to Herbert about every three hours.

The next day Herbert experienced a certain improvement. He had not yet recovered and intermittent fevers are subject to frequent and dangerous recurrences but he had no lack of care. And then the specific was there and not far doubtless, was he who brought it! In short, an immense hope returned to everyone’s heart.

This hope was not unjustified. Ten days later, on the 20th of December, Herbert began his convalescence. He was still weak and a severe diet had been imposed on him but there had been no further attack. And then the docile child voluntarily submitted to all the prescriptions which were imposed on him. He yearned to get better.

Pencroff was like a man who had been snatched from the bottom of an abyss. He had crises of joy which bordered on delirium. After the time for the third attack had passed, he seized the reporter in his arms and smothered him. From then on he only called him Doctor Spilett.

It remained to discover the real doctor.

“We will find him,” repeated the sailor.

And certainly the man, whoever he was, could expect a somewhat rugged embrace from worthy Pencroff.

The month of December ended and with it this year of 1867 during which the colonists of Lincoln Island had been so sorely tried. They began the year 1868 with magnificent weather, superb warmth and a tropical temperature which fortunately was cooled by sea breezes. Herbert revived, and from his bed, placed near one of the Granite House windows, he inhaled the wholesome salty air which restored his health. He began to eat and God knows what dainty dishes, frivolous and savory, Neb prepared for him.

“It is enough to make one wish for an illness,” said Pencroff.

During all of this time the convicts had not once shown themselves in the vicinity of Granite House. Of Ayrton there was no news and if the engineer and Herbert still had any hope of finding him again, their companions did not doubt that the unfortunate had succumbed. However these uncertainties could not continue and as soon as the lad would be able bodied, the expedition whose result was so important, would be undertaken. But they would have to wait a month perhaps, because it would take all the forces of the colony to get the upper hand over the convicts.

Besides, Herbert was getting better and better. The congestion of the liver had disappeared and the wounds could be considered as definitely cicatrized.

During the month of January, important work was done at Grand View Plateau; but it consisted only in saving what they could of the devastated harvests of corn and vegetables. The seeds and plants were gathered so as to furnish a new harvest for the coming half-season. As to rebuilding the poultry yard, the mill and the stables, Cyrus Smith preferred to wait. While his companions and he would be in pursuit of the convicts, the latter could well pay a new visit to the plateau and would not fail to give rein to their profession as pillagers and arsonists. They would see about rebuilding when they had purged the island of these scoundrels.

The young convalescent began to get up during the second fortnight of the month of January, first an hour each day, then two, then three. His strength returned visibly, so vigorous was his constitution. He was then eighteen years old. He was tall and promised to become a noble man with a commanding presence. From this time on his convalescence, though still requiring care—and Doctor Spilett showed himself to be very strict—proceeded on schedule.

The young convalescent began to get up.

Toward the end of the month, Herbert had already been to Grand View Plateau and the beach. A few sea baths taken in the company of Pencroff and Neb did him a world of good. Cyrus Smith felt he could already set the day of departure which was fixed for the 15th of February. The nights, which were very clear at this time of the year, would favor the search that they would make of the entire island.

The preparations for this exploration were therefore begun and they had to be considerable because the colonists had sworn that they would not enter Granite House again until their double purpose had been attained: on the one hand, to destroy the convicts and find Ayrton again if he was still alive; on the other, to discover who presided so effectively over the destinies of the colony.

Of Lincoln Island, the colonists were well acquainted with all of the eastern shore from Cape Claw to the Mandible Capes, the vast Tadorns marsh, the neighborhood of Lake Grant, Jacamar Woods between the corral and the Mercy, the courses of the Mercy and Red Creek, and finally the buttresses of Mount Franklin, where they had established the corral.

They had explored, but only in an imperfect way, the vast coastline of Washington Bay from Cape Claw to Reptile Promontory, the forested and marshy west coast and those endless dunes which ended at the mouth of Shark’s Gulf.

But they knew nothing of the large wooded portions which covered Serpentine Peninsula, all of the right bank of the Mercy, the left bank of Falls River, and the network of these buttresses and these entrenchments which supported three quarters of the base of Mount Franklin in the west, the north and the east, there where so many retreats doubtless existed. Consequently several thousand acres of the island had still escaped their investigations.

Hence it was decided that the expedition would be carried across the Far West so as to include all of the part situated on the right bank of the Mercy.

Perhaps it would be best to go first to the corral where they had reason to believe that the convicts had found refuge again either to pillage it or to install themselves there. But either the devastation of the corral was an accomplished fact by now and it was too late to prevent it, or the convicts had entrenched themselves there and there would always be time to go and dislodge them from their retreat.

Thus, after discussion, they held to the original plan, and the colonists resolved to reach Reptile Promontory by going through the woods. They could blaze a trail with the ax and thus beat the first path over a route which would put Granite House in communication with the extremity of the peninsula over a length of sixteen to seventeen miles.

The cart was in perfect condition. The onagers, being well rested, could make a long trip. Provisions, camping equipment, a portable stove and various utensils were loaded into the cart as well as arms and munitions chosen with care from the now complete Granite House arsenal. But they must not forget that the convicts were perhaps roaming the woods and that in these thick forests a gun could quickly be fired and reach its mark. Out there it would be necessary for the small troop of colonists to stay together and not separate for any reason.

It was also decided that no one would remain at Granite House. Top and Jup themselves would take part in the expedition. The inaccessible dwelling could guard itself all alone.

The 14th of February, the day before the departure, was a Sunday. It was devoted entirely to rest and sanctified by thanks addressed to the Creator. Herbert, entirely recovered but still a bit weak, would have a place reserved for him in the cart.

The next day, at dawn, Cyrus Smith took the measures necessary to protect Granite House against any invasion. The ladders which were formerly used for climbing up, were brought to the Chimneys and buried deep in the sand so that they could be used on their return because the drum of the elevator was dismantled and nothing remained of the apparatus.

Pencroff stayed to the last in Granite House to finish this work and he lowered himself by means of a double cord held firmly from below and which once thrown to the ground would allow no communication between the upper landing and the beach.

Pencroff lowered himself by means of a cord.

The weather was magnificent.

“It will be a warm day,” said the reporter joyously.

“Bah, Doctor Spilett,” replied Pencroff, “we will move along sheltered by the trees and we will not even see the sun.”

“Let’s go!” said the engineer.

The cart was waiting on the beach in front of the Chimneys. The reporter saw to it that Herbert took his place there, at least during the early hours of the trip, and the lad yielded to his doctor’s prescriptions.

Neb put himself at the head on the onagers. Cyrus Smith, the reporter and the sailor were in front. Top frisked about joyously. Herbert had offered a place to Jup in his vehicle and Jup accepted without formality. The moment for departure had arrived and the small troop took to the road.

The cart first turned the corner at the river’s mouth then, after having ascended the left bank of the Mercy for a mile, it crossed the bridge at the end of which the route to Port Balloon began. There the explorers left the route on their left and plunged into the cover of these immense woods which formed the region of the Far West.

For the first two miles the well spaced trees allowed the cart to move freely; from time to time they had to chop away at creepers and brushwood but no serious obstacle opposed the passage of the colonists.

The thick branches kept the ground in the cool shade. Deodars, douglas, casuarinas, banksias, gum and dragon trees and other already discovered species succeeded each other as far as the eye could see. All the species of birds usual to the island were found there, grouse, jacamars, pheasant, lories and the entire babbling family of cockatoos, parakeets and parrots. Agouti, kangaroo and capybara ran about the grass, all of which reminded the colonists of the first excursions which were made upon their arrival on the island.

“Nevertheless,” noted Cyrus Smith, “I notice that these animals, quadrupeds and birds, are more fearful than formerly. These woods have been recently scoured by the convicts who must certainly have left traces.”

And, in fact, in many places they recognized the more or less recent passage of a troop of men: here, cuts made on trees, perhaps to mark out the road: there, some cinders from an extinguished fire and some footprints preserved on clay ground. But, in short, nothing seemed to indicate a permanent encampment.

The engineer had suggested to his companions that they refrain from hunting. The noise from the firearms would warn the convicts who were perhaps roaming about the forest. Besides, the hunters would necessarily drift away from the cart and they were severely forbidden to wander alone.

During the second part of the day, about six miles from Granite House, movement became rather difficult. In order to pass certain thickets, they had to chop down some trees to make a road. Before doing that, Cyrus Smith took care to send Top and Jup into the thick underbrush. They accomplished their task conscientiously and when the dog and the orang returned without giving any signal, they knew that there was nothing to fear, neither from the convicts nor from the wild beasts—two sorts of individuals of the genus animal whose ferocious instincts put them on the same level.

During the night of this first day, the colonists camped about nine miles from Granite House on the banks of a small tributary of the Mercy whose existence they were ignorant of. This was a part of the hydrographic system which gave the soil its astonishing fertility.

They ate heartily because the colonists had a very sharp appetite and measures were taken to pass the night without disturbance. If the engineer had had to deal only with ferocious animals, jaguars or others, he would simply have lit a fire around the encampment which would suffice to protect it; but the convicts would more likely be alerted by the flames than frightened by them, and it was best in this case to surround themselves by darkness.

Besides, the watch was strictly organized. Two of the colonists would watch together and it was agreed that every two hours they would wake up their companions. In spite of his protests, Herbert was relieved of the guard. Pencroff and Gideon Spilett on the one hand and the engineer and Neb on the other, took turns in mounting guard to the approaches to the encampment.

Besides, there were only a few hours to the night. The obscurity was due rather to the thickness of the branches than to the disappearance of the sun. The silence was barely troubled by the raucous howls of the jaguars and the derisive laughter of the apes which seemed particularly to irritate Master Jup.

The night passed without incident and the next day, the 16th of February, the journey, more slow than laborious, was resumed through the forest.

The night passed without incident.

They were only able to make six miles on this day because at every instant they had to blaze a trail with the ax. Being true “settlers”, the colonists spared the large and fine trees whose felling would besides have cost them enormous fatigue. They sacrificed the small ones; but the result was that the route hardly followed a straight line and was lengthened by numerous detours.

During this day, Herbert discovered new species which had not been previously seen on the island, such as the tree fern with hanging branches that were shaped like water flowing out of a vase, and the carob whose long pods the onagers nibbled on eagerly and which would furnish a sweetish pulp of excellent taste. There the colonists also found again some magnificent kauri trees, arranged by groups, with cylindrical trunks crowned by a cone of verdure rising to a height of two hundred feet. These were the “king of trees” of New Zealand, as famous as the cedars of Lebanon.

As to the fauna, there were no species that had not been previously recognized by the hunters. However, without getting near, they caught a glimpse of a couple of large birds peculiar to Australia, cassowaries which go under the name of emus, and which are five feet tall and of brown plumage, belonging to the order of grallatory birds. Top dashed after them as fast as his four legs could carry him but the cassowaries easily outdistanced him, such was their speed.

They found a few more traces left by the convicts in the forest. Near a fire which appeared to have been recently extinguished, the colonists noticed footprints which they carefully examined. By measuring each against the others according to their length and width, they easily identified traces of the feet of five men. The five convicts had evidently camped in this area; but—and this was the object of a minute examination—they could not discover a sixth footprint which, in this case would have been Ayrton’s foot.

“Ayrton was not with them!” said Herbert.

“No,” replied Pencroff, “and if he was not with them it is because these wretches have already killed him! But these scoundrels therefore do not have a den where we can go and track them down like tigers!”

“No,” replied the reporter. “It is very likely that they go about at random and it is in their interest to roam around in this way until such time as they become the masters of the island.”

“The masters of the island!” shouted the sailor. “The masters of the island!...” he repeated, and his voice was choked as if an iron collar had seized his throat. Then in a calmer voice:

“Do you know, Mister Cyrus,” he said, “what bullet this is that I have shoved into my weapon?”

“No, Pencroff.”

“It is the bullet that went through Herbert’s chest and I promise you that it will not miss its mark.”

But these justifiable reprisals would not return Ayrton to life and from the examination of the footprints left on the ground they must alas conclude that they could no longer hope to see him alive.

That evening they camped forty miles from Granite House and Cyrus Smith estimated that they were at most five miles from Reptile Promontory.

And in fact, the next day they reached the extremity of the peninsula. The forest had been crossed over its entire length but with no indication which would allow them to discover the retreat where the convicts took refuge nor that of the no less secret sanctuary of the mysterious stranger.

1. 10 grams.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Secret of the Island

Chapter XII

Exploration of Serpentine Peninsula—Encampment at the mouth of Falls River—Six hundred feet from the corral—Gideon Spilett’s and Pencroff’s reconnaissance—Their return—Everyone moves forward—An open door—A lighted window—By the light of the moon!

THE next day, the 18th of February, was devoted to the exploration of all of the wooded part which formed the shore from Reptile Promontory to Falls River. The colonists could investigate deep into this forest because, extending between the two shores of Serpentine Peninsula, its width was only three to four miles. The trees, by their height and their thick branches, attested to the fertility of the soil which was more astonishing here than on any other portion of the island. It was like a corner of the virgin forests of America or of central Africa transported to this temperate zone. They were led to the conclusion that these superb plants found in this soil a moisture in the upper level but heat at the interior due to volcanic fires, a warmth which did not belong to the temperate climate. The dominant species were these kauris and these eucalyptuses which took on gigantic dimensions.

But the goal of the colonists was not to admire these magnificent plants. They already knew that, in this connection, Lincoln Island deserved to rank with the Canaries group which was first called Fortune Islands. Now alas, their island no longer belonged to them completely; others had taken possession of it, criminals who trampled everything underfoot and they must destroy them to the last.

However carefully they looked, they found no more traces on the western coast. No more footprints, no more cuts on the trees, no more cold cinders, no more abandoned camps.

“This does not astonish me,” said Cyrus Smith to his companions. “The convicts landed on the island near Flotsom Point and they immediately dashed into the forests of the Far West after having crossed the Tadorn marshes. They then very nearly followed the route that we had taken on leaving Granite House. This explains the traces that we recognized in the woods. But on arriving on the coastline, the convicts realized that they would find no suitable retreat there and it was then that, after having ascended northward, they discovered the corral...”

“Where they have perhaps returned...” said Pencroff.

“I do not think so,” replied the engineer, “because they must have assumed that our search would carry us in that direction. The corral is only a storehouse for them and not a fixed camp.”

“I agree with Cyrus,” said the reporter, “and in my opinion it is among the buttresses of Mount Franklin that the convicts have found a retreat.”

“Then, Mister Cyrus, straight to the corral!” shouted Pencroff. “We must finish the job and up until now we’ve been wasting our time!”

“No, my friend,” replied the engineer, “you forget that we had an interest in knowing if the forests of the Far West concealed some dwelling. Our exploration has a double purpose, Pencroff. If on the one hand we must punish a crime, on the other hand we owe a debt of gratitude.”

“You are right, Mister Cyrus,” replied the sailor. “Nevertheless, it is my opinion that we will find this gentleman only when he wishes it.”

And really Pencroff was only expressing everyone’s opinion. It was likely that the stranger’s retreat was no less mysterious than was he himself!

That evening the cart halted at the mouth of Falls River. Sleeping arrangements followed their custom and they took the usual precautions for the night. Herbert again became the vigorous youth that he had been before his illness, profiting largely from this existence in the open air between the breezes from the ocean and the vivifying atmosphere of the forests. His place was no longer in the cart but at the head of the caravan.

The next day, the 19th of February, the colonists abandoned the shore where, beyond the mouth, the basalts of all shapes were so picturesquely piled up, and ascended the left bank of the watercourse. The route had been partly cleared during previous excursions from the corral to the west coast. The colonists then found themselves at a distance of six miles from Mount Franklin.

The engineer’s plan was as follows: to carefully examine the entire valley whose bottom formed the bed of the river, and to cautiously reach the neighborhood of the corral; if the corral was occupied, to take it by force; if it was not, to entrench themselves there and make it the center of operations with the object of exploring Mount Franklin.

This plan was unanimously approved by the colonists and truly they were longing to regain complete possession of their island.

They travelled along the narrow valley which separated the two most powerful buttresses of Mount Franklin. The trees, pressed together on the banks of the river, became rarer toward the upper zones of the volcano. It was uneven hilly ground, very suitable for ambushes, over which they moved with care. Top and Jup marched as guides and dashing to the right and to the left into the thick brushwood, they competed with intelligence and with skill. But there was nothing to indicate that the banks of the watercourse had been recently frequented, nothing to announce either the presence or the proximity of the convicts.

About five o’clock in the evening the cart stopped about six hundred feet from the palisaded enclosure. A semicircular curtain of large trees still concealed it.

They must now reconnoiter the corral in order to know if it was occupied. To go there openly in full daylight, with the convicts very likely in ambush, would be to invite some foul play as had struck Herbert. It would be better to wait for night to come on.

However, Gideon Spilett wanted, without further delay, to reconnoiter the approaches to the corral and Pencroff, at the end of his patience, offered to accompany him.

“No, my friends,” replied the engineer. “Wait for night. I will not allow any of you to expose yourself in full daylight.”

“But, Mister Cyrus...” replied the sailor, barely disposed to obey.

“I beg you, Pencroff,” said the engineer.

“So be it!” replied the sailor, who vented his anger at the convicts with the roughest language of his maritime repertoire.

The colonists thus remained near the cart and carefully surveyed the neighboring parts of the forest.

Three hours passed. The wind died out and an absolute silence reigned under the large trees. The breaking of a twig, the noise of footsteps on the dry leaves or any movement through the grass would have been heard without difficulty. Everything was quiet. Besides, Top, lying on the ground with his head resting on his paws, gave no sign of concern.

At eight o’clock, the evening had advanced so that the reconnaissance could be made under good conditions. Gideon Spilett was ready to leave accompanied by Pencroff. Cyrus Smith gave his consent. Top and Jup would remain with the engineer, Herbert and Neb because any bark or cry uttered at an inappropriate time would give the alarm.

“Do not get involved in any imprudence,” Cyrus Smith advised the sailor and the reporter. “You are not to take possession of the corral but only to discover if it is occupied or not.”

“It is agreed,” replied Pencroff.

And they both left.

Over a radius of thirty to forty feet, the darkness already rendered objects invisible thanks to the thick foliage of the trees. The reporter and Pencroff, stopping for any noise that aroused their suspicion, advanced very carefully.

They walked at a distance from each other in order to offer less of a prize to any gunfire. And, as a matter of fact, they expected a gunshot at any moment.

Five minutes after they left the cart, Gideon Spilett and Pencroff reached the edge of the woods at the clearing in front of the palisaded enclosure.

They stopped. Dim light still bathed the prairie, devoid of trees. The door of the corral, thirty feet away, seemed to be closed. These thirty feet to be crossed between the edge of the woods and the enclosure constituted the danger zone, to use an expression borrowed from ballistics. In fact, one or more bullets fired from the top of the palisade would throw to the ground anyone who ventured into this zone.

Gideon Spilett and the sailor were not men to recoil but they knew that any imprudence on their part, in which they would be the first victims, would affect their companions. With themselves killed, what would become of Cyrus Smith, Neb and Herbert?

But Pencroff, overexcited by feeling himself so near the corral where he supposed that the convicts had found refuge, was going to move forward when the reporter held him back with a firm hand.

“In a few minutes it will be completely dark,” murmured Gideon Spilett into Pencroff’s ear, “and that will be the moment to act.”

“In a few minutes,” murmured Gideon Spilett...

Pencroff convulsively squeezed the butt of his gun, restraining himself, waiting and fuming.

Soon the last glimmer of twilight was completely gone. The darkness seemed to leave the thick forest and envelope the clearing. Mount Franklin rose like an enormous screen in front of the western horizon, and darkness came on rapidly as it does in regions of lower latitude. This was the moment.

From the moment that they had posted themselves at the edge of the woods, the reporter and Pencroff had not lost sight of the palisaded enclosure. The corral seemed to be absolutely deserted. The top of the palisade formed a line a little darker than the surrounding environment and nothing impaired its distinctness. However, if the convicts were there, one of them would be posted to guard against any surprise.

Gideon Spilett seized the hand of his companion and they both advanced, crawling toward the corral with their guns ready to fire.

They reached the door of the enclosure without a single ray to light up the darkness.

Pencroff tried to push the door open, which the reporter and he supposed was closed. However the sailor was able to determine that the exterior bars were not in place.

They could therefore conclude that the convicts were occupying the corral and that they had really fastened the door so that it could not be forced.

Gideon Spilett and Pencroff listened.

There was no noise from inside the enclosure. The sheep and the goats, doubtless sleeping in their stables, did not disturb the calm of the night.

The reporter and the sailor, hearing nothing, asked themselves if they should climb the palisade and get into the corral. That would be contrary to Cyrus Smith’s instructions.

It was true that the operation could succeed but it could also miscarry. Now if the convicts suspected nothing, if they had no knowledge of the expedition undertaken against them, if in short there existed at this moment a chance to surprise them, should they jeopardize this chance by thoughtlessly going over the palisade?

That was not the reporter’s opinion. He felt that it was best to wait until the colonists were all together before attempting to get into the corral. This much was certain, that they could come right up to the palisade without being seen and that the enclosure did not appear to be guarded. This point settled it remained only to return to the cart which they ventured to do.

Pencroff probably agreed with this way of looking at things because he had no difficulty in following the reporter when the latter retreated to the woods.

A few minutes later the engineer was brought up to date with the situation.

“Well,” he said after some thought, “I now have reason to believe that the convicts are not at the corral.”

“We will surely know that,” replied Pencroff, “when we have scaled the enclosure.”

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

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

“No,” replied the engineer, “it is our ammunition and supply wagon and if need be it will serve as an entrenchment.”

“Forward then,” said Gideon Spilett.

The cart left the woods and began to roll without noise toward the palisade. It was just as dark and quiet as when Pencroff and the reporter had been crawling on the ground. The thick grass completely muffled the noise of their footsteps.

The colonists were ready to fire. On Pencroff’s order, Jup stayed behind. Neb held Top in leash so that he would not rush forward.

Soon the clearing appeared. It was deserted. Without hesitating, the small troop went toward the enclosure. In a short space of time the danger zone was crossed. No shot had been fired. When the cart reached the palisade, it stopped. Neb was at the head of the onagers to hold them back. The engineer, the reporter, Herbert and Pencroff then went to the door in order to see if it was barricaded from the inside...

One of the doors was open!

“What were you saying,?” the engineer asked, turning toward the sailor and Gideon Spilett.

Both were stupefied.

“Upon my salvation,” said Pencroff, “this door was closed just now.”

The colonists then hesitated. Had the convicts been in the corral when Pencroff and the reporter had made their reconnaissance? That could not be doubted since the door, closed at the time, could only have been opened by them. Were they still there or had one of them gone out?

All of these questions were instantly on everyone’s mind but what should they do?

At his moment Herbert, who had advanced a few feet into the enclosure, rushed out and seized Cyrus Smith’s hand.

“What is it?” asked the engineer.

“A light!”

“In the house?”

“Yes!”

All five advanced toward the door and in fact, through the panes of the window which faced them, they saw a feeble flickering light.

Cyrus Smith quickly made his decision.

“It is a unique chance,” he said to his companions, “to find the convicts in the house expecting nothing. They are ours! Forward!”

The colonists moved quietly inside the enclosure, with weapons ready to fire. The cart had been left outside, guarded by Jup and by Top, who had been prudently tied to it.

Cyrus Smith, Pencroff and Gideon Spilett on the one side and Herbert and Neb on the other, ran along the palisade, observing that this part of the corral was absolutely dark and deserted.

In a few minutes all were at the house, in front of the door which was closed.

Cyrus Smith signaled to his companions to hold back while he approached the window pane then feebly lit by an inside light.

He looked into the only room which formed the ground floor of the house.

On the table was a lighted lamp. Near the table was the bed formerly used by Ayrton.

On the bed lay the body of a man.

Suddenly Cyrus Smith drew back and in a stifling voice:

“Ayrton!” he shouted.

Immediately the door was forced rather than opened and the colonists rushed into the room.

Ayrton seemed to be sleeping. His appearance showed that he had suffered long and cruelly. They saw large bruises on his wrists and ankles.

Cyrus Smith leaned over him.

“Ayrton!” shouted the engineer, seizing the arms of him whom they had found again under such unexpected circumstances.

On hearing his name, Ayrton opened his eyes, looked at Cyrus Smith and then at the others:

“You,” he shouted, “you?”

“Ayrton! Ayrton!” repeated Cyrus Smith.

“Where am I?”

“In the house at the corral!”

“Alone?”

“Yes!”

“But they are coming!” shouted Ayrton. “Defend yourself! Defend yourself!”

“But they are coming!” shouted Ayrton.

And Ayrton fell back exhausted.

“Spilett,” the engineer then said, “we may be attacked at any moment. Bring the cart into the corral. Then barricade the door and come back here.”

Pencroff, Neb and the reporter hastened to carry out the engineer’s orders. There was not a moment to lose. Perhaps the cart itself was already in the hands of the convicts!

In an instant the reporter and his two companions crossed the corral and reached the door of the palisade behind which they heard Top growling dully.

The engineer, leaving Ayrton for a moment, left the house, ready to fire. Herbert was at his side. They both surveyed the top of the buttress which overlooked the corral. If the convicts were in ambush there they could kill the colonists one by one.

At this moment the moon appeared in the east, above the black curtain of the forest, and a white sheet of light spread out over the interior of the enclosure. The corral was fully illuminated, with its cluster of trees, the small stream which watered it and its wide carpet of grass. The house and a part of the palisade stood out in white against the side of the mountain. On the opposite side, toward the door, the enclosure remained dark.

A black mass soon appeared. It was the cart which entered the circle of light and Cyrus Smith could hear the noise of the door which his companions had closed again by firmly fastening the bars on the inside.

But at that moment, Top broke his leach, barked furiously and rushed toward the back of the corral to the right of the house.

“On guard, my friends, and take aim...,” shouted Cyrus Smith.

The colonists put their guns to their shoulders and waited for the moment to fire. Top barked without letup and Jup ran after the dog, making sharp hisses.

The colonists followed him and reached the small stream which was overshadowed by large trees.

And there, in full light, what did they see?

Five bodies lying on the bank!

Five bodies lying on the bank!

They were those of the convicts who four months earlier had set foot on Lincoln Island.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Secret of the Island

Chapter XIII

Ayrton’s account—Plans of his former accomplices—Their installation at the corral—The judge of Lincoln Island—The “Bonadventure”—Search around Mount Franklin—Upper valleys—Subterranean noises—Pencroff’s response—At the bottom of the crater—Return.

WHAT had happened? Who had struck down the convicts? Was it Ayrton? No, since he had dreaded their return only a moment earlier.

But Ayrton was then in a deep stupor from which it was impossible to rouse him. After the few words that he uttered, an overwhelming torpor took possession of him and he fell back on his bed motionless.

The colonists, prey to a thousand confused thoughts, under the influence of a violent overexcitement, waited all night without leaving Ayrton’s house and without returning to the place where the bodies of the convicts were lying. It was true that Ayrton could tell them nothing about the circumstances under which the convicts had been found dead since he himself did not even know that he was at the corral. But at least he would be able to tell about the events that had preceded this terrible execution.

The next day Ayrton came out of his torpor and his companions heartily gave him evidence of their joy on seeing him again very nearly safe and sound after one hundred four days of separation.

Ayrton then related in a few words what had happened or at least as much as he knew.

The day after his arrival at the corral, the 10th of November last, when night fell, he was surprised by the convicts who had scaled the enclosure. They tied and gagged him; then he was taken away to some obscure cavern at the foot of Mount Franklin where the convicts had taken refuge.

His death had been decided upon and the next day he was about to be killed when one of the convicts recognized him and called him by the name he had borne in Australia. These wretches wanted to massacre Ayrton! They respected Ben Joyce!

But from that time on, Ayrton was exposed to the obsessions of his former accomplices. They wanted him to join with them and they counted on him to get into Granite House, to get into this inaccessible dwelling, in order to become masters of the island after having assassinated the colonists.

Ayrton resisted. The former convict, repentant and pardoned, would have rather died than betray his companions.

Ayrton, tied up, gagged and under constant guard, lived in this cavern for four months.

However, the convicts had discovered the corral a short time after their arrival on the island and from that time on, they used its reserves but without living there. On the 11th of November, two of these bandits, suddenly surprised by the arrival of the colonists, fired on Herbert and one of them returned boasting that he had killed one of the inhabitants of the island, but he returned alone. His companion, as we know, fell under Cyrus Smith’s dagger.

One can judge Ayrton’s despair and anxiety when he learned this news of Herbert’s death! The colonists were only four in number and, so to speak, at the mercy of the convicts!

After this event, and during all of the time that the colonists were detained at the corral by Herbert’s illness, the pirates did not leave their cavern, and even after they had pillaged Grand View Plateau, they did not feel it prudent to abandon it.

The ill treatment inflicted on Ayrton then redoubled. His hands and feet still carried the bloody marks of the bonds which restrained him day and night. He awaited death at any moment, from which it seemed he could not escape.

Things stood this way until the third week in February. The convicts, always on the lookout for a favorable occasion, rarely left their retreat except to hunt either in the interior of the island or on the southern coast. Ayrton no longer had any news of his friends nor did he expect to see them again.

Finally the unfortunate man, weak from ill-treatment, fell into a deep prostration during which he saw nor heard anything. From that time on, that is to say for the last two days, he could not even say what had happened.

“But, Mister Smith,” he added, “since I was imprisoned in this cavern, how do I find myself at the corral?”

“How do we find the convicts lying out there dead in the middle of the enclosure?” replied the engineer.

“Dead!” shouted Ayrton who, in spite of his weakness, got up a bit.

His companions helped him up. He wanted to stand up. They let him do so and everyone went toward the small creek.

It was broad daylight.

There on the bank, in the position in which they had met an instantaneous death, lay the five bodies of the convicts.

Ayrton was dumfounded. Cyrus Smith and his companions looked at him without saying a word.

On a sign from the engineer, Neb and Pencroff examined the bodies already stiff from the cold.

They showed no apparent trace of a wound.

Only after they had been carefully examined, Pencroff saw on the face of one, the chest of another, the back of this one, the shoulder of that one, a small red mark, a sort of barely visible contusion whose origin was impossible to recognize.

“That is how they were struck down!” said Cyrus Smith.

“But with what kind of weapon?” shouted the reporter.

“A weapon, acting like lightning, whose secret we do not have.”

“And who struck them?...” asked Pencroff.

“The judge of the island,” replied Cyrus Smith, “he who brought you here, Ayrton, he whose influence is still felt, he who does for us all that we cannot do for ourselves, and who, when done, conceals himself from us.”

“Let us look for him then,” shouted Pencroff.

“Yes, let us look for him,” replied Cyrus Smith, “but the mysterious being who accomplishes such wonders will not be found until it finally pleases him to call us to his side.”

This invisible protection, which made their own efforts seem like nothing, irritated and moved the engineer at the same time. The relative inferiority that it implied could wound a proud spirit. A generosity which acted so as to elude every mark of recognition indicated a sort of scorn for the debtors which marred up to a certain point, in Cyrus Smith’s view, the value of the kindness.

“Let us search,” he resumed, “and God will it that we be permitted one day to prove to this haughty protector that he is not dealing with ingrates! What I would not give to be able to repay him and to render him some important service in our turn even at the cost of our lives.”

From this day on, this search was the unique preoccupation of the inhabitants of Lincoln Island. Everything impelled them to discover a hint about this enigma, a hint even if it only be the name of the man endowed with this truly inexplicable and superhuman power.

Then the colonists re-entered the house in the corral where their cares promptly restored Ayrton to his moral and physical energy.

Neb and Pencroff carried the bodies of the convicts into the forest at some distance from the corral and buried them.

Ayrton was brought up to date on what had occurred during his imprisonment. He was told about Herbert’s experiences and the series of trials which the colonists had endured. As to the latter, they no longer expected to see Ayrton again and feared that the convicts had massacred him without pity.

“And now,” said Cyrus Smith, ending his recital, “a duty remains for us. Half of our task is completed but if the convicts are no longer to be feared, it is not because of ourselves that we have again become masters of the island.”

“Well,” replied Gideon Spilett, “let us search every labyrinth of the buttresses of Mount Franklin! Let us leave no excavation or hole unexplored. No reporter ever found himself in the presence of so exciting a mystery, I can tell you that, my friends!” “And we will return to Granite House,” replied Herbert, “only when we have found our benefactor.”

“Yes,” said the engineer, “we will do everything that it is humanly possible to do... but, I repeat, we will not find him until he wishes it!”

“Shall we stay at the corral?” asked Pencroff.

“Let us stay here,” replied Cyrus Smith. “There are abundant provisions here and we are at the center of our circle of investigations. Besides, if necessary, the cart can quickly take us to Granite House.”

“Good,” replied the sailor. “Only an observation.”

“Which is?”

“The fine season is advanced and we must not forget that we have a trip to make.”

“A trip?” said Gideon Spilett.

“Yes! The one to Tabor Island,” replied Pencroff. “It is necessary to bring a notice there which indicates the position of our island where Ayrton actually is, in case the Scotch yacht comes to bring him back. Who knows if it is not already too late?”

“But Pencroff,” asked Ayrton, “how do you plan to make this trip?”

“On the Bonadventure!”

“The Bonadventure!” shouted Ayrton. “It no longer exists.”

“My Bonadventure no longer exists!” yelled Pencroff jumping up.

“No!” replied Ayrton. “The convicts discovered it in its small port, it was barely eight days ago, they took it to sea, and...”

“And?” said Pencroff with his heart palpitating.

“And not having Bob Harvey to maneuver it, they became stranded on the rocks and the boat was completely destroyed.”

“Ah! the wretches! the bandits! the infamous scoundrels!” shouted Pencroff.

“Pencroff,” said Herbert, taking the sailor’s hand, “we will make another Bonadventure, a larger one. We have all the ironwork and all the rigging from the brig.”

“But do you know,” replied Pencroff, “that it will take at least five to six months to construct a boat of thirty to forty tons?”

“We will take our time,” replied the reporter, “and we will give up our trip to Tabor Island for this year.”

“As much as you want it, Pencroff, it is best to be resigned,” said the engineer, “and I hope that this delay will not be detrimental.”

“Ah! my Bonadventure! my poor Bonadventure!” shouted Pencroff, truly disheartened by the loss of his boat, to which he had become so attached.

The destruction of the Bonadventure was evidently a regrettable fact for the colonists and it was agreed that this loss would be repaired as soon as possible. This decided, they would now occupy themselves only with bringing the exploration of the most secret portions of the island to a successful conclusion.

The search was begun on that very day, the 19th of February, and lasted an entire week. The base of the mountain, between the buttresses and their numerous ramifications, formed a labyrinth of valleys and elevated ground very randomly disposed. It was evident that it would be best to pursue their search there at the bottom of these narrow gorges, perhaps even into the interior of the mass of Mount Franklin. No part of the island would be a better place to conceal a dwelling whose host wanted to remain unknown. But such was the entanglement of the buttresses, that Cyrus Smith had to proceed to explore them in a strictly methodical way.

The colonists first visited all of the valley which opened up to the south of the volcano, which fed the waters of Falls River. It was there that Ayrton showed them the cavern where the convicts had taken refuge and in which he had been imprisoned until he had been taken to the corral. This cavern was exactly in the condition as when Ayrton had left it. They found there a certain quantity of munitions and provisions that the convicts had built up with the intention of creating a reserve.

All of the valley which was adjacent to the cave, a valley shaded by beautiful trees, among which the conifers were dominant, was explored with extreme care. The southwest buttress having been turned, the colonists came upon a more narrow gorge which led to the picturesque entanglement of basalts on the coast.

Here there were fewer trees. Stone replaced grass. Wild goats and sheep gamboled about among the rocks. Here the arid part of the island began. They saw that of the numerous valleys at the base of Mount Franklin, only three were wooded and rich in pastures like those of the corral which was bordered on the west by Falls River valley and on the east by Red Creek valley. These two brooks changed into rivers lower down by the absorption of several affluents formed by all of the mountain’s waters and thus accounted for the fertility of the southern portion. As to the Mercy, it was more directly fed from abundant sources lost under the cover of Jacamar Woods and from other sources of this nature which, overflowing from a thousand outlets, watered the soil of Serpentine Peninsula.

Now one of these three valleys, where there was no lack of water, could serve as a retreat for some recluse who would find there all the things necessary for life. But the colonists had already explored them and nowhere had they been able to affirm the presence of man.

Was it then at the bottom of these arid gorges, among the debris of rocks in the rugged ravines of the north, between the paths of lava, that this retreat found itself with its host?

The base of the northern part of Mount Franklin was composed of only two valleys, broad, not too deep, without the appearance of vegetation, erratic blocks scattered about, long moraines paved with lava, hills of large mineral deposits interspersed with volcanic glass and labradorites. This part called for a long and difficult exploration. It was criss-crossed by a thousand cavities, doubtless of little comfort, but absolutely concealed and of difficult access. The colonists even visited dark tunnels which dated from the plutonian epoch, still black from the passage of former fires, and which led into the mass of the mountain. They went through dark galleries with resin torches, they probed the smallest excavations, they sounded the least depths. But there was silence and darkness everywhere. It did not seem that any human being had ever trod these ancient passageways or that his hands had even moved a single block. They were there just as the volcano had thrown them up above the water at the time that the island emerged.

The colonists even visited dark tunnels...

However, if these substructures appeared to be absolutely deserted, if the obscurity there was complete, Cyrus Smith was forced to acknowledge that absolute silence did not reign there.

On arriving at the end of one of these dark cavities extending to a length of several hundred feet into the interior of the mountain, he was surprised to hear muffled rumblings, increased in intensity by the resonance of the rocks.

Gideon Spilett, who was with him, also heard these distant murmurs, which indicated a revival of the subterranean fires. Several times they both heard it and they were in agreement on this point, that some chemical reaction was going on in the bowels of the earth.

“The volcano then is not totally extinct?” asked the reporter.

“The volcano then is not totally extinct?”

“It is possible that since our exploration of the crater,” replied Cyrus Smith, “there has been some activity in the lower levels. Any volcano, although considered fully extinct, can evidently become active again.”

“But if Mount Franklin is getting ready for an eruption,” asked Gideon Spilett, “would it not pose a danger for Lincoln Island?”

“I do not think so,” replied the engineer. “The crater, that is to say the safety valve, exists and the overflow of vapor and lava will escape as it formerly did by its accustomed outlet.”

“Provided the lava does not blaze a new passage toward the fertile parts of the island.”

“Why, my dear Spilett,” replied Cyrus Smith, “why would it not follow its natural route?”

“Well! Volcanos are capricious!” replied the reporter.

“Notice,” replied the engineer, “that the inclination of the entire mass of Mount Franklin favors the outpouring of material toward the valleys which we are exploring at this moment. It would need an earthquake which changed the center of gravity of the mountain to modify this outpouring.”

“But an earthquake is always to be feared under these conditions,” noted Gideon Spilett.

“Always,” replied the engineer, “especially when the subterranean forces begin to awaken and the bowels of the earth have been obstructed after a long repose. Also, my dear Spilett, an eruption would be a serious thing for us and it would be best if the volcano did not have the urge to awaken! But we can do nothing, can we? In any case, whatever comes, I do not think that our domain at Grand View will be seriously menaced. Between there and the mountain, the soil is noticeably depressed and if ever the lava takes a path toward the lake it will be thrown toward the dunes and the neighboring portions of Shark Gulf.”

“We still have not seen any smoke at the top of the mountain which would indicate an approaching eruption,” said Gideon Spilett.

“No,” replied Cyrus Smith, “no vapor is escaping from the crater. I observed the summit only yesterday. But it is possible that in the lower part of the chimney, time has accumulated rocks, cinders and hardened lava and that this valve, as I call it, is temporarily blocked. But at the first serious effort, all obstacles 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 crack under the pressure of the gas. Nevertheless, I repeat, it would be better if there were no eruption.”

“And yet we are not mistaken,” replied the reporter. “We can definitely hear muffled rumblings in the very bowels of the volcano!”

“In fact,” replied the engineer, who listened again carefully, “there is no mistaking... A reaction is going on there whose importance and final outcome we cannot evaluate.”

Cyrus Smith and Gideon Spilett left and returned to their companions who were told about the state of things.

“Good” shouted Pencroff, “this volcano wants to do its thing! But if it tries, it will find its master!...”

“Who?” asked Neb.

“Our genie, Neb, our genie, who will gag the crater if it only hints at opening up.”

One could see that the sailor’s confidence toward the special deity of his island was absolute and certainly the occult power, which had manifested itself up to that time by so many inexplicable acts, appeared to be without limits; but it also escaped the minute search conducted by the colonists, because in spite of their efforts, in spite of the zeal, more than the zeal, the tenacity with which they carried on their exploration, the strange retreat had not been discovered.

From the 19th to the 25th of February, the circle of the investigation was extended to all of the northern region of Lincoln Island, whose most secret retreats were searched. The colonists ended by sounding each rocky wall, as the police do to the walls of a suspicious house. The engineer even made a very exact survey of the mountain and carried his search down to the foundations which supported it. It was even explored to the top of the truncated cone which ended the first stage of rocks and then to the upper edge of this enormous hat, at the bottom of which the crater opened.

They did more: they visited the still extinct abyss, but within its depth they could distinctly hear rumblings. However, there was no smoke, no vapor nor any heat from the walls to indicate an approaching eruption. But neither there nor at any other part of Mount Franklin could the colonists find any trace of the person they were looking for.

They did more: they visited the abyss...

The investigation was then directed toward all of the dunes region. They carefully examined the high lava walls of Shark Gulf, from top to bottom, even though it was extremely difficult to reach the level of the gulf. There was no one! Nothing!

These few words finally summarized so much fatigue uselessly expended, so much stubbornness which produced no result and there was a sort of anger in the discomfort of Cyrus Smith and his companions.

They therefore had to think of returning, because these searches could not be pursued indefinitely. The colonists were truly right in believing that the mysterious being did not reside on the surface of the island and then the craziest notions haunted their overexcited imaginations. Pencroff and Neb in particular, could no longer limit themselves to the world of unusual things, but let themselves be carried into the supernatural.

On the 25th of February, the colonists again entered Granite House and by means of a double cord brought to the landing of the door with an arrow, they re-established communication between their domain and the ground.

One month later, on the twenty fifth day of March, they celebrated the third anniversary of their arrival on Lincoln Island.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Secret of the Island

Chapter XIV

Three years have passed—The question of the new vessel—What is resolved—Prosperity of the colony—The shipyard—The frosts of the southern hemisphere—Pencroff is resigned—Bleaching the linen—Mount Franklin.

THREE years had passed since the prisoners from Richmond had fled and at all times during these three years they spoke of their country, always present in their thoughts.

They had no doubt that the Civil War was now at an end and it seemed impossible to them that the just cause of the North had not been victorious. But what were the events of this terrible war? How much blood had been spilled? Which of their friends had succumbed in battle? They often spoke of these things, still without knowing when they would see their country again. To return there if only for a few days, to renew social ties with the inhabited world, to establish communication between their native land and their island, to pass the longest, perhaps the best part of their lives in this colony that they had founded and which would then become a metropolis, was this then an unrealistic dream?

But there were only two ways to realize this dream: either a vessel would show itself some day in the waters of Lincoln Island or the colonists would themselves construct a boat large enough to take to sea and reach the nearest land.

“Unless,” said Pencroff, “our genie himself furnishes us with the means to repatriate ourselves.”

And truly if someone told Pencroff and Neb that a vessel of three hundred tons was waiting for them in Shark Gulf or at Port Balloon, they would not even have shown any surprise. In their state of mind they expected anything.

But Cyrus Smith, being less confident, advised them to return to reality by proposing that they construct a boat, a truly urgent task, since they must bring a document to Tabor Island as soon as possible which would indicate Ayrton’s new residence.

The Bonadventure no longer existed. Six months at least would be necessary for the construction of a new vessel. Now, with winter coming on, the voyage could not be made before next spring.

“We therefore have time to prepare for the fine season,” said the engineer, who chatted about these things with Pencroff. “I therefore think, my friend, that since we have to make a boat again, it would be best to give it larger dimensions. The arrival of the Scotch yacht at Lincoln Island is very problematic. Perhaps it even came in the last few months and left again after having vainly looked for some trace of Ayrton. Would it not therefore be appropriate to construct a vessel which, if need be, could carry us to the Polynesian archipelagoes or to New Zealand? What do you think?”

“I think, Mister Cyrus,” replied the sailor, “I think that you are just as capable of making a large boat as a small one. Neither the wood nor the tools are lacking. It is only a question of time.”

“And how much time would be required for the construction of a vessel of two hundred fifty to three hundred tons?” asked Cyrus Smith.

“Seven or eight months at least,” replied Pencroff. “But let’s not forget that when winter comes, wood is difficult to work in the frost. Let’s therefore count on a few idle weeks and if our boat is ready by next November, we should consider ourselves lucky.”

“Well,” replied Cyrus Smith, “that will be the best time to undertake a crossing of some importance either to Tabor Island or to a further land.”

“In fact, Mister Cyrus,” replied the sailor, “make your plans, the workers are ready and I imagine that Ayrton will lend us a helping hand in these circumstances.”

The colonists were consulted and approved of the engineer’s project and in truth, it was the best thing to do. It is true that the construction of a vessel of two to three hundred tons was a large undertaking but the colonists had a confidence in themselves justified by the successes already obtained.

Cyrus Smith therefore occupied himself with making the plans for the vessel. During this time, his companions were employed in felling and carting the trees which would provide the curved wood, the ribs and the planking. It was the Forest of the Far West which gave the best species of oaks and elms. They profited from the path already made at the time of the last excursion to open a practical route which took the name of Route of the Far West. The trees were transported to the Chimneys where a shipyard was established. As to the route in question, it was traced out capriciously. It was a little the choice of wood which determined the path but it facilitated access to a large portion of Serpentine Peninsula.

It was important that the wood be promptly cut up and sawed because they could not use it while it was still green and time must be left for it to harden. The carpenters therefore worked with ardor during the month of April, which was troubled only by a few rather violent equinoxial windstorms. Master Jup helped them skillfully either by climbing to the top of a tree in order to attach the felling ropes or by using his robust shoulders to carry the lopped off trunks.

All of this wood was piled up under a large shed which was constructed near the Chimneys and there it remained until it would be put to use.

The month of April was rather fine, as the month of October often is in the northern zone. At the same time, the agricultural work was actively carried on and soon all trace of the devastation had disappeared from Grand View Plateau. The mill was rebuilt and new buildings rose where the poultry yard had been. It seemed necessary to construct it to larger dimensions because the avian population had increased considerably. The stables now housed five onagers, four who were vigorous and well trained for harness or riding, and a young one recently born. The colony’s equipment was increased with a plow. The onagers were employed to pull it, like true oxen from Yorkshire or from Kentucky. Each of the colonists shared in the work and no hands were idle. The laborers were in fine health and in fine humor. They animated the evenings at Granite House by forming a thousand plans for the future.

It goes without saying that Ayrton completely shared in the common existence and there no longer was any question about his going to live at the corral. Nevertheless he was always sad, not very communicative, and joined in the work rather than in the pleasures of his companions. But he was a rugged laborer at his tasks, vigorous, skilful, ingenious and intelligent. He was esteemed and loved by everyone and he could not but be aware of it.

The corral, however, was not abandoned. Every two days one of the colonists, taking the cart or riding one of the onagers, went to look after the flock of sheep or goats and carry back milk for Neb’s pantry. At the same time, these excursions were occasions for hunting. Herbert and Gideon Spilett—with Top in front—took to the road to the corral more often than any of their companions, and with their excellent weapons, capybara, agouti, kangaroo, wild boar and wild pig for the large game and duck, grouse, heath fowl, jacamar and snipe for the small game, were never lacking at home. The products of the warren, those of the oyster bed, some turtles which were prized, a new catch of excellent salmon which still came to swarm in the waters of the Mercy, the vegetables from Grand View Plateau, the natural fruits from the forest, it was riches upon riches and Neb, the master cook, could barely cope with storing it.

It goes without saying that the telegraphic wire thrown between the corral and Granite House was repaired and that it was used whenever one or another of the colonists found himself at the corral and judged it necessary to pass the night there. Besides, the island was secure now and no aggression was to be feared—at least on the part of men.

However what had happened once could happen again. A descent of pirates and even of escaped convicts was always to be feared. It was possible that some companions and accomplices of Bob Harvey, still detained at Norfolk, were in on his secret plans and would attempt to imitate him. The colonists examined the approaches to the island every day and their telescope swept the large horizon which enclosed Union Bay and Washington Bay. When they went to the corral, they examined with no less care the western part of the ocean and by climbing the buttress, their gaze could cover a rather large sector of the western horizon.

Nothing suspicious appeared but still they must always be on their guard.

One evening the engineer told his friends about his plans to fortify the corral. It seemed prudent to him to increase the height of the palisaded enclosure and to flank it with a sort of blockhouse in which, if need be, they could hold out against an enemy troop. Granite House could be considered impregnable by its very position. The corral with its structures, its reserves and the animals it enclosed, would always be the objective of pirates, whoever they were, who would land on the island, and if the colonists were forced to enclose themselves there, they could hold out without being at a disadvantage.

This was a project to ripen because they were forced to hold off its execution until the coming spring.

Around the 15th of May, the keel of the new vessel stretched out over the shipyard and soon the stem and the sternpost, squared at each end, were erected almost perpendicularly. This keel, of good oak, measured one hundred ten feet in length, giving the main beam a width of twenty five feet. But this was all the carpenters could do before the arrival of the frost and the bad weather. During the following week they put the first rear frames in place; then they had to suspend work.

During the final days of the month the weather was very bad. The wind blew from the east, at times with the violence of a storm. The engineer had some uneasiness about the sheds at the shipyard—which, by the way, they could not establish at any other place near Granite House—because the islet protected the shore only imperfectly against the furies of the sea and during major storms the waves beat directly at the foot of the granite wall.

But, very fortunately, these fears were not realized. The wind blew more often from the southeast and under these conditions the Granite House shore was completely protected by the salient at Flotsom Point.

Pencroff and Ayrton, the two most zealous workers on the new boat, pursued their labors as long as they could. They were not men to be inconvenienced by the wind which twisted their hair, nor by the rain which seemed to penetrate to their very bones, and a blow from a hammer is worth as much in bad as in good weather. But when a very vivid frost succeeded this wet period, the wood, whose fibers acquired the hardness of iron, became extremely difficult to work and around the 10th of June they had to definitely abandon the construction of the boat.

Cyrus Smith and his companions noticed that the temperature was severe during the winters at Lincoln Island. The cold was comparable to that felt in the New England States, situated at very nearly the same distance from the equator. If, in the northern hemisphere, or at least in the part occupied by Canada and the north of the United States, this phenomenon can be explained by the smooth topography of the territories which border on the pole so that no obstructions oppose the wintry winds from the extreme north, no such explanation would suffice here as regards to Lincoln Island.

“One can even observe,” Cyrus Smith said one day to his companions, “that at similar latitudes, islands and coastal regions are less subject to the cold than Mediterranean countries. I have often heard it said that the winters of Lombardy, for example, are more vigorous than those of Scotland, which is due to the fact that during the winter, the sea restores the heat that it has received during the summer. Islands are in the best position to benefit from this restitution.”

“But then, Mister Cyrus,” asked Herbert, “why does Lincoln Island escape the usual rule?”

“That is difficult to explain,” replied the engineer. “However I am inclined to admit that this singularity is due to the position of the island in the southern hemisphere which as you know, my child, is colder than the northern hemisphere.”

“In fact”, said Herbert, “floating ice is encountered under lower latitudes in the South Pacific than in the north.”

“That is true,” replied Pencroff, “and when I worked as a whaler, I saw icebergs at Cape Horn.”

“That could then perhaps explain,” said Gideon Spilett, “the rigorous cold which strikes Lincoln Island, because of the nearby ice floes.”

“In fact, your opinion is very admissible, my dear Spilett,” replied Cyrus Smith, “and it is evident that we owe our rigorous winters to the proximity of the ice pack. I will also note a physical cause which renders the southern hemisphere colder than the northern hemisphere. In fact, since the sun is nearer to this hemisphere in the summer, it is necessarily further during the winter. This therefore explains the extremes of temperature in two senses and if we find the winters very cold at Lincoln Island, let us not forget that the summers, on the contrary, are very warm.”

“But why then, Mister Smith, if you please,” asked Pencroff frowning, “why is our hemisphere, as you said, treated so badly? That isn’t fair.”

“Friend Pencroff,” replied the engineer smiling, “fair or not, we must submit to the situation, and this is why this particularity comes about. The earth does not describe a circle around the sun but rather an ellipse, according to the laws of rational mechanics. The sun occupies one of the foci of the ellipse. As a consequence, at a certain point in its orbit, the earth is at its apogee, that is to say at its greatest distance from the sun, and at another point, its perigee, it is at its shortest distance. Now it so happens that it is precisely during the winter in the southern countries that the earth is at its greatest distance from the sun and consequently in the condition required for these regions to be subject to a colder frost. Nothing can be done about that, Pencroff, and men, however learned they may be, will never be able to change the cosmological order established by God Himself.”

“Nevertheless,” added Pencroff, who was slow to resign himself, “the world is well informed! What a big book one could make, Mister Cyrus, with all that is known.”

“And what a still larger book with what is not known,” replied Cyrus Smith.

Finally, for one reason or another, the month of June again brought frost with its usual violence and the colonists were often confined to Granite House.

Ah! This imprisonment seemed to be hard on everyone and perhaps more particularly on Gideon Spilett.

“See here,” he said one day to Neb, “by the act of a notary, I would give you all the inheritances that would come to me one day if you would be a good fellow and go, never mind where, and subscribe to any journal whatsoever. Decidedly, what I miss most for my well being is to know every morning what has happened the previous day besides here.”

“See here,” said one day Gideon Spillet to Neb...

Neb laughed.

“My word,” he replied, “my daily tasks are all that concern me.”

The truth was that, inside or outside, there was no lack of work.

The colony of Lincoln Island then found itself at the height of its prosperity and three years of work had made it such. The incident of the destroyed brig had been a new source of riches. Without mentioning the complete rigging which would be used for the vessel under construction, utensils and tools of all sorts, arms and munitions, clothing and instruments now crowded the storerooms of Granite House. It was no longer even necessary to have recourse to making the crude felt material. If the colonists had suffered from the cold during their first winter, now the bad season could come without the need to dread its rigors. Linen was also abundant and besides, they took good care of it. From sodium chloride, which is nothing more than sea salt, Cyrus Smith had easily extracted the soda and the chlorine. The soda, which was easy to transformed into sodium carbonate, and the chlorine which was made into bleaching powder, was employed for many domestic uses in particular for bleaching linen. Moreover, they had wash days no more than four times a year, as was formerly practiced by families of long ago, and one may be permitted to add that Pencroff and Gideon Spilett, while waiting for the postman to bring him his journal, showed themselves to be distinguished launderers.

So passed the winter months, June, July and August. They were very rigorous and the average temperature reading did not give more than 8°F (13.33°C below zero). It was less than the temperature of the preceding winter. What warm fires burned incessantly in the Granite House fireplaces, with the smoke making long black stripes on the granite walls. They spared no fuel, which could be found in a natural state a short distance away. Besides, the excess from the wood intended for the construction of the vessel allowed them to economize the coal whose transportation was more troublesome.

Men and animals were in good health. It was agreed that Master Jup was a little chilly. That was perhaps his only shortcoming and they had to make him a well padded dressing gown. But with such domesticity, skill, zeal, strength, discretion and silence, they could rightly propose him as a model for all his biped colleagues of the old and new worlds.

“After all,” said Pencroff, “when someone has four hands to work with, we can expect him to find work more suitable.”

And, as a matter of fact, the intelligent quadrumane did it well.

During the seven months which had passed since the last search conducted around the mountain and during the month of September, which brought back the fine weather, there was no question about the genie of the island. His action did not manifest itself in any event. It is true that it would have been useless, since no incident occurred to put the colonists in a troublesome position.

Cyrus Smith even observed that if, by chance, communications between the stranger and the hosts of Granite House had ever been established through the granite mass, and if Top’s instincts indicated forebodings, so to speak, it was no longer so during this period. The dog’s growling had ceased completely, as well as the orang’s uneasiness. The two friends—because such they were—no longer prowled around the orifice of the inside well and they did not bark nor groan in this strange way which had put the engineer on the alert at the beginning. But could he be sure that the last word had been said about this riddle and that they would never have the answer? Could he say that some combination of events would not occur to bring the mysterious personage into action? Who could tell what was in store for the future?

Finally winter ended; but an event whose consequences could be serious, occurred precisely during the first days which marked the return of spring.

On the 7th of September, Cyrus Smith, looking at the top of Mount Franklin, saw smoke twirling above the crater with its first vapors projecting into the atmosphere.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Secret of the Island

Chapter XV

The awakening of the volcano—The fine season—Resuming work—The evening of the 15th of October—A telegram—A request—A response—Departure for the corral—The note—The supplementary wire—Basalt coast—High tide—Low tide—The cavern—A dazzling light.

THE colonists, notified by the engineer, stopped working and looked in silence at the top of Mount Franklin.

The colonists looked at the top of Mount Franklin.

The volcano had awakened and the vapors had pierced the mineral layer piled up at the bottom of the crater. But would the subterranean fires provoke some violent eruption? That was the eventuality which they could not foretell.

However, even admitting the hypothesis of an eruption, it was probable that Lincoln Island would not suffer from it in its entirety. The outpouring of volcanic material is not always disastrous. The island had already been subjected to this experience, as evidenced by the lava flows which streaked the northern slopes of the mountain. Besides the form of the crater, the break in its upper fringe would project the vomited material to the side opposite the fertile portions of the island.

Nevertheless, the past does not necessarily speak for the future. Often, at the top of volcanos, old craters close and new ones open. The event has occurred in both worlds, at Etna, at Popocatepetl and at Orizaba. At the brink of an eruption there is everything to fear. On the whole, it may result from an earthquake—a phenomenon which sometimes accompanies volcanic outpourings—which changes the interior disposition of the mountain and blazes new paths for the incandescent lava.

Cyrus Smith explained these things to his companions and without exaggerating the situation, he let them know what they were up against.

After all, they could do nothing about it. Granite House at least, did not seem to be menaced from an earthquake. But there was everything to fear with regards to the corral if some new crater should open in the southern wall of Mount Franklin.

From this day on, the vapors did not cease to pour out from the top of the mountain and they even saw it gain in height and thickness without any flames mixing with the thick spirals. The phenomenon was still concentrated in the lower part of the central chimney.

However, with the good weather, work was resumed. They pressed on as much as possible with the construction of the vessel and by means of the waterfall on the beach, Cyrus Smith succeeded in making a hydraulic saw which cut up the tree trunks more rapidly into boards and planks. The mechanism of this apparatus was as simple as that used in the country saws of Norway. A horizontal movement is first imparted to the wood, a vertical movement is then given to the saw, that is all that is needed, and the engineer succeeded in making it by means of a wheel, two cylinders and pulleys suitably arranged.

Toward the end of the month of September, the frame of the vessel, which would be rigged as a schooner, rose up over the shipyard. The ribs were almost completely finished and with all these timbers being supported in a temporary arch, they could already appreciate its shape. This schooner, slender in front and with a streamlined shape rearward, would evidently be appropriate for a rather long voyage if need be; but the layout of the bulwarks, the inner planking and the deck, would still require considerable time. Very fortunately, the ironwork from the old brig had been saved after the underwater explosion. From the planks and the mutilated ribs, Pencroff and Ayrton had extracted bolts and a large quantity of copper nails. It was a good economy for the forgers but the carpenters had much to do.

The construction activity had to be interrupted for a week for the harvesting of hay and the various crops which abounded on Grand View Plateau. This task ended, every moment was henceforth devoted to the completion of the schooner.

When night arrived, the laborers were truly exhausted. In order to lose no time they changed their mealtimes: they dined at noon and supped only when there no longer was any daylight. Then they ascended to Granite House, hurrying off to sleep.

Sometimes however, when the conversation concerned some interesting subject, they delayed a little in going to sleep. The colonists allowed themselves to speak of the future and they willingly chatted about the changes that a voyage with the schooner to the nearest land would bring about in their situation. But these plans were always dominated by the thought of a subsequent return to Lincoln Island. Never would they abandon this colony, founded with so much pain and success, and to which communications with America would give a new development.

Pencroff and Neb especially hoped to end their days here.

“Herbert,” the sailor would say, “will you never abandon Lincoln Island?”

“Never, Pencroff, and especially if you resolve to remain here!”

“At any price, my boy,” Pencroff would reply. “I will wait for you. You will bring me your wife and your children and I will make jolly fellows of them!”

“That is my intention,” replied Herbert, smiling and blushing at the same time.

“And you, Mister Cyrus,” resumed Pencroff enthusiastically, “you will always be the governor of the island. Now then, how many inhabitants can it support? Ten thousand at least!”

They chatted in this way, allowing Pencroff to run on and on and, with one thing leading to another, the reporter ended by founding a journal, the New Lincoln Herald!

Such is the heart of man. The need to do something which endures, which survives him, is the sign of his superiority over all he sees before him. This is the foundation of his domination and which justifies it over the entire world.

After all, who knows if Top and Jup did not themselves also have some small dream of the future.

Ayrton, silent, said to himself that he would like to see Lord Glenarvan again and show himself rehabilitated.

One evening, the 15th of October, the conversation was directed along these lines and prolonged more than usual. It was nine o’clock in the evening. Already poorly concealed yawns sounded bedtime and Pencroff was about to go to his bed when the electric bell, placed in the room, suddenly rang.

All were there, Cyrus Smith, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, Ayrton, Pencroff and Neb. None of the colonists were at the corral.

Cyrus Smith got up. His companions looked at each other, thinking that they had not heard correctly.

“What is that thing trying to tell us?” shouted Neb. “Is it the devil who rang?”

No one replied.

“The weather is stormy,” noted Herbert. “Couldn’t the influence of the electricity...”

Herbert did not finish his sentence. The engineer, to whom all eyes were turned, shook his head negatively.

“Let us wait,” Gideon Spilett then said. “If it is a signal, whoever made it will renew it.”

“But who could it be?” shouted Neb.

“But,” replied Pencroff, “the one who...”

The sailor’s sentence was cut short by a new vibration of the bell.

Cyrus Smith went toward the apparatus and throwing a current across the wire, he sent this request to the corral:

“What do you wish?”

A few moments later the needle moved across the alphabetical dial and gave this response to the hosts of Granite House:

“Come to the corral with all possible speed.”

“At last,” shouted Cyrus Smith.

Yes! At last! The mystery was about to be revealed! Before this immense interest which was driving the colonists toward the corral, all fatigue had disappeared, all need for sleep had ceased. Without saying a word they left Granite House and in a few moments they found themselves on the beach. Only Top and Jup remained behind. They could do without them.

The night was black. The moon, new that very day, had disappeared at the same time as the sun. As Herbert had noted, large storm clouds formed a low heavy canopy which hid the light from the stars. A few glows from a distant storm lit up the horizon.

It was possible that a few hours later the lightning would strike the island itself. It was a menacing night.

But the obscurity, as deep as it was, could not hinder these men who were familiar with the route to the corral. They ascended the left bank of the Mercy, reached the plateau, passed the bridge over Glycerin Creek and advanced through the forest.

They moved at a good clip, prey to vivid emotions. They had no doubt that they were going to discover the long sought answer to the enigma, the name of the mysterious being, so deeply intertwined in their lives, so generous in his influence, so powerful in his action! Was it not a fact that the stranger had been involved with their lives, that he knew the smallest details, that he had listened to all that was said at Granite House in order to be able to act in the nick of time?

Each, lost in his thoughts, pressed on. Under the cover of the trees, the obscurity was such that they could not even see the edge of the road. Besides, there was no sound from the forest. Quadrupeds and birds, influenced by the heaviness of the atmosphere, were still and silent. No wind ruffled the leaves. Only the colonists’ footsteps sounded in the darkness on the hard ground.

During the first quarter hour of their trip, the silence was interrupted by this observation from Pencroff.

“We should have taken a lantern.”

And by this response from the engineer:

“We will find it at the corral.”

Cyrus Smith and his companions had left Granite House at twelve minutes after nine o’clock. At forty seven minutes after nine, they had travelled three of the five miles which separated the mouth of the Mercy from the corral.

At this moment, large white flashes of lightning brightened the sky over the island and delineated the black border of the foliage. These intense bursts were dazzling and blinding. Evidently the storm could not be long in letting loose. Little by little, the flashes of lightning became more frequent and brighter. There were distant rumblings in the depths of the sky. The air was stifling.

The colonists pushed forward as if propelled by some irresistible force.

At a quarter past ten a vivid flash of lightning showed them the palisaded enclosure and they had not passed the door when thunder burst forth with a formidable violence.

In an instant the corral was crossed and Cyrus Smith found himself in front of the house.

It was possible that the house was occupied by the stranger since it was from the house itself that the telegram must have been sent. Nevertheless no light appeared in the window.

The engineer knocked on the door.

There was no response.

Cyrus Smith opened the door and the colonists entered the room which was very dark.

Neb struck a light and an instant later a lantern was lit and directed toward every corner of the room...

No one was there. Things were exactly as they had left them.

“Have we been duped by an illusion?” murmured Cyrus Smith.

No! It was not possible! The telegram had clearly said:

“Come to the corral with all possible speed.”

They approached the table used especially for the telegraph. Everything was in place, the battery and the box which housed it, as well as the receiver and the transmitter.

“Who was here last?” asked the engineer.

“I, Mister Smith,” replied Ayrton.

“And that was?...”

“Four days ago.”

“Ah! a note!” shouted Herbert, pointing to a sheet of paper on the table.

On this sheet were written these words in English:

“Follow the new wire.”

“Forward!” shouted Cyrus Smith, who understood that the dispatch had not been sent from the corral but rather from the mysterious retreat, using a supplementary wire attached to the old wire and communicating directly with Granite House.

Neb took the lighted lantern and they all left the corral.

The storm then let loose with extreme violence. The interval which separated each flash of lightning and each clap of thunder sensibly diminished. Before long, the weather dominated Mount Franklin and the entire island. During the intermittent flashes they could see the summit of the volcano pouring out vapors.

There was no telegraphic communication in all of the portion of the corral which separated the house from the palisaded enclosure. But after passing the door, the engineer, going straight to the first post, saw by the light of a flash that a new wire went from the insulator to the ground.

“There it is!” he said.

This wire was stretched out on the ground but along its entire length it was surrounded with an insulating material as is done with submarine cables to assure the free transmission of the current. From its direction it seemed to be going across the woods and the southern buttresses of the mountain and consequently it ran to the west.

“Let us follow it!” said Cyrus Smith.

And either by the light from the lantern or from the lightning, the colonists rushed along the route traced out by the wire.

The thunder was then continuous and its violence such that no word could be heard. Besides, they were using their strength not to speak but to go forward.

Cyrus Smith and those with him first went to the buttress which rose up between the valley of the corral and that of Falls River, which they crossed in its narrowest part. The wire, sometimes spread out on the lower tree branches, sometimes lying on the ground, guided them surely.

The engineer had supposed that the wire would perhaps end at the bottom of the valley and that the unknown retreat would be there.

There was nothing of the sort. They had to reascend the southwest buttress and redescend onto the arid plateau which was terminated by this wall of basalts piled up so strangely. From time to time one or another of the colonists got down to feel the wire with his hand and to rectify the direction if need be. But there was no longer any doubt that this wire was running directly to the sea. There doubtless, in some depth of the igneous rocks, was hollowed out the dwelling so vainly sought until then.

The sky was on fire. One flash did not wait for the other. A few struck the top of the volcano and fell into the crater amidst the thick fumes. A few times they thought that the mountain projected flames.

A few minutes before eleven o’clock, the colonists arrived at the high border which overlooked the ocean to the west. The wind was high. The surf was roaring five hundred feet below.

Cyrus Smith calculated that his companions and he had travelled a distance of a mile and a half from the corral.

At this point the wire went in among the rocks, following a rather steep slope into a narrow and capriciously traced ravine.

The colonists went there at the risk of provoking some cavein of the poorly balanced rocks and being thrown into the sea. The descent was extremely perilous but they were not concerned with the danger. They were no longer masters of themselves and an irresistible attraction drew them toward this mysterious point like a magnet attracts iron.

Almost unconsciously, they descended this ravine which even in full daylight would have been impractical so to say. The stones rolled over and glistened like enflamed bolides. Cyrus Smith was at the head. Ayrton was at the rear. Here they went step by step; there they slipped on a smooth rock; then they got up again and continued on their way.

Finally the wire, turning a sharp corner, touched the rocks on shore, rocks which were scattered about the reefs and battered by the high tides. The colonists had reached the lower limit of the basaltic wall.

There they found a narrow shoulder which ran horizontally and parallel to the sea. The wire followed it and the colonists went along. They had not gone a hundred feet when the shoulder, inclined at a moderate slope, reached the very level of the waves.

The engineer seized the wire and he saw that it ran into the sea.

His companions, stopping near him, were stupefied.

A cry of disappointment, nearly a cry of desperation, escaped them. Must they then throw themselves under the waves to find some submarine cavern there? In the overexcited moral and physical state that they found themselves in, they would not have hesitated to do it.

A thought from the engineer stopped them.

Cyrus Smith led his companions to one of the hollows among the rocks and there:

“Let us wait,” he said. “The tide is high. At low tide the pathway will open up.”

“But what makes you think?...” asked Pencroff.

“He would not have called for us if there were no means for getting to him!”

Cyrus Smith spoke with such conviction that no objection was raised. Besides, his observation was logical. They had to admit that an opening, practical at low tide but covered by the waves at the moment, would open up at the foot of the wall.

There were a few hours to wait. The colonists therefore remained silently crouched under a sort of deep porch cut into the rock. The rain then began to fall which soon became torrents condensed from the clouds and wrenched loose by the thunderbolts. The echoes reverberated the roar of the thunder and gave it a grandiose sound.

The echoes reverberated the roar of the thunder...

The colonists’ emotion was extreme. A thousand strange supernatural thoughts crossed their minds and they evoked some grand and superhuman apparition which alone could correspond to the image that they had of the mysterious genie of the island.

At midnight Cyrus Smith, carrying the lantern, descended to beach level in order to observe the disposition of the rocks. It was already two hours into low tide.

The engineer had not been mistaken. The arch of a vast excavation began to appear above the water. The wire, bending at a right angle, went into this gaping mouth.

Cyrus Smith returned to his companions and simply said to them:

“In an hour the opening will be practical.”

“It exists then?” asked Pencroff.

“Did you doubt it?” replied Cyrus Smith.

“But this cavern will be filled with water to a certain height,” noted Herbert.

“Either the cavern will be completely dry,” replied Cyrus Smith, “and in that case we will proceed on foot, or it will not be dry and some means of transportation will be at our disposal.”

An hour passed. Everyone descended in the rain to the level of the sea. In three hours the sea had dropped fifteen feet. The top of the arc traced out by the arch was at least eight feet high. It was like the arch of a bridge under which water passes, mixed with foam.

Leaning over, the engineer saw a black object floating on the surface of the sea. He drew it toward him.

It was a boat moored by a cord to some interior projection of the wall. The boat was made of riveted sheet iron. The oars were below, under the seats.

“Let us get in,” said Cyrus Smith.

A moment later, the colonists were in the boat. Neb and Ayrton took the oars, with Pencroff at the rudder. Cyrus Smith was up front, with the lantern placed on the stern, lighting up the way.

The colonists were in the boat.

The arch was very low when the boat first passed under it. Then it rose sharply; but it was very dark and the light from the lantern was insufficient for them to recognize the extent of this cavern, its length, its height, its depth. In the midst of this basaltic substructure, there reigned an imposing silence. No sound from the outside could penetrate here and the flashes of lightning could not pierce its thick walls.

These immense caverns exist in several parts of the world. They are sort of natural crypts which date from geological times. Some are invaded by the waters of the sea; others contain entire lakes within their sides. Such is Fingal’s Cave on the island of Staffa, one of the Hebrides, such are the caves of Morgat, on the bay of Douarnenez in Brittany, the caves of Bonifacio in Corsica, those of Lyse-Fjord in Norway, such is the immense cavern of Mommoth in Kentucky, five hundred feet high and more than twenty miles long. At several points of the globe, nature has hollowed out these crypts and preserved them for the admiration of man.

As to this cavern which the colonists were now exploring, did it extend to the center of the island? For a quarter of an hour the boat advanced, making such detours as the engineer briefly indicated to Pencroff, when at a certain moment:

“More to the right,” he commanded.

The boat, changing its direction, went at once along the right wall. The engineer wanted, with justification, to determine if the wire was still running along this wall.

The wire was there, hanging from the projections in the rocks.

“Forward!” said Cyrus Smith.

The two oars plunged into the dark waters, moving the boat.

The boat advanced for another quarter of an hour and they must have crossed a distance of half a mile from the cavern opening when Cyrus Smith’s voice was heard anew.

“Stop!” he said.

The boat stopped and the colonists saw a vivid light which illuminated the enormous crypt so deeply hollowed out into the bowels of the island.

It was then possible to examine this cavern whose existence there had been no reason to suspect.

One arch, rounded out at a height of a hundred feet, was supported on basalt columns which seemed to have been cast from the same mold. Irregular arches and capricious ribs were supported by columns which nature had erected by the thousands during the first eras of the formation of the globe. The basaltic sections, enmeshed in one another, measured forty to fifty feet in height and the peaceful waters washed their base in spite of the outside agitation. The glare from the source of illumination, pointed out by the engineer, seized each prismatic edge and, sharpening it to points of light, penetrated so to speak the walls as if they had been transparent, and changed the smallest projections of this structure into brilliant reflectors.

As a result of the phenomenon of reflection, the water reproduced these various glares on its surface so that the boat seemed to float between two sparkling zones.

There was no mistake about the nature of the radiation emanating from the central luminary whose straight clear rays struck all corners and all filets of the crypt. This light came from an electric source and its white color betrayed its origin. It was the sun of this cavern and it filled it completely.

On a sign from Cyrus Smith, the oars were dipped in again, producing a real rain of carbuncles, and the boat moved toward the luminous focus. It soon was less than half a cable from it.

At this point, the width of the sheet of water measured about three hundred fifty feet and they could see, beyond the central brilliance, an enormous basaltic wall which shut off any exit on this side. The cavern was considerably enlarged and the sea formed a small lake here. But the arch, the lateral partitions, the rear wall, all these prisms, cylinders and cones were bathed in this electrical fluid to the point that the radiancy seemed to be their own and one could say that these stones, sharpened to facets like expensive diamonds, oozed with light.

At the center of the lake, a long spindle shaped object floated on the surface of the water, silent and still. The radiation escaped from its sides like two openings from a furnace which has been heated to a white heat. This object, which looked like the body of an enormous whale, was about two hundred fifty feet long and rose from ten to twelve feet above the level of the sea.

A long spindle shaped object floated on the surface of the water...

The boat approached it slowly. In front, Cyrus Smith was standing. He looked, a prey to a violent agitation. Then he suddenly seized the reporter’s arms.

“But it is he! It can only be he!” he shouted, “he!...”

Then he fell back on his seat, murmuring a name that only Gideon Spilett heard.

Doubtless the reporter recognized this name because it had a prodigious effect on him and he replied in a hollow voice:

“He! An outlawed man!”

“He!” said Cyrus Smith.

On the engineer’s order, the boat approached this strange floating apparatus. The boat came alongside the left quarter from which a beam of light escaped through a thick glass.

Cyrus Smith and his companions climbed on to the platform. An open hatchway was there. All rushed into the opening.

At the base of the ladder there was an interior gangway lighted by electricity. At the end of this gangway was a door pushed open by Cyrus Smith.

A richly ornamented room, which was quickly crossed by the colonists, contained a library with a ceiling that poured out a torrent of light.

At the rear of the library a large door, also closed, was opened by the engineer.

A vast salon, a sort of museum crowded with all the mineral treasures of nature, works of art and marvels of industry, appeared before the colonists’ eyes which led them to believe that they were magically carried into the world of dreams.

Extended on a costly divan they saw a man who did not seem to be aware of their presence.

Then Cyrus Smith raised his voice and to the extreme surprise of his companions, he pronounced these words:

“Captain Nemo, you have asked for us. We are here.”

“Captain Nemo, you have asked for us...”

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Secret of the Island

Chapter XVI

Captain Nemo—His first words—The story of one of the heros of independence—Hatred of the invaders—His companions—Submarine life—Alone—The last refuge of the “Nautilus” at Lincoln Island—The mysterious genie of the island.

AT these words the reclining man lifted himself up and his face appeared in full light: a magnificent head, high forehead, fiery look, white beard, hair abundant and thrown back.

This man supported himself with his hands against the back of the divan. He was calm. One could see that some lingering illness was undermining him little by little but his voice still seemed strong when he said in English and in a tone which expressed extreme surprise:

“I have no name, sir.”

“I know you,” replied Cyrus Smith.

Captain Nemo fixed an ardent gaze on the engineer as if he wished to annihilate him.

Then he fell back on the pillows of the divan.

“It doesn’t matter after all,” he murmured, “I am going to die!”

Cyrus Smith approached Captain Nemo and Gideon Spilett took his hand, which he found to be burning. Ayrton, Pencroff, Herbert and Neb respectfully stood to one side in a corner of this magnificent salon whose air was saturated with electrical radiation.

However Captain Nemo immediately removed his hand and with a sign he begged the engineer and the reporter to be seated.

All looked at him with true emotion. Here was the person they called the “genie of the island”, the powerful being whose intervention under so many circumstances had been so effective, this benefactor to whom they were so much indebted. Before their eyes there was only a man where Pencroff and Neb thought they would find a near god and this man was ready to die.

But how was it that Cyrus Smith knew Captain Nemo? Why had the latter gotten up so vividly on hearing this name pronounced which he thought the world was ignorant of?...

The captain resumed his place on the divan and, supported by his arms, he looked at the engineer seated next to him.

“You know the name which I had, sir?” he asked.

“I know it,” replied Cyrus Smith, “just as I know the name of this admirable submarine apparatus.”

“The Nautilus?” said the captain, half smiling.

“The Nautilus.”

“But do you know... do you know who I am?”

“I know that.”

“Nevertheless it has been thirty years since I have had any communication with the inhabited world, thirty years during which I lived in the depths of the sea, the only place where I found independence! Who then could have betrayed my secret?”

“A man who never pledged loyalty to you, Captain Nemo, and who consequently cannot be accused of treason.”

“The Frenchman who was cast on board by chance sixteen years ago?”

“The same.”

“This man and his companions then did not perish in the maelstrom in which the Nautilus was entangled?”

“They did not perish and a book has appeared under the title of ‘Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea’ which contains your story.”

“The story of a few months only, sir!” replied the captain vividly.

“It is true,” replied Cyrus Smith, “but several months of this strange life have sufficed to make you known...”

“As a master criminal doubtless?” replied Captain Nemo, allowing a haughty smile to pass his lips. “Yes, a rebel, banned perhaps by humanity!”

The engineer did not reply.

“Well, sir?”

“I have not judged Captain Nemo,” replied Cyrus Smith, “at least as it concerns his past life. I am ignorant, as is all the world, of what have been the motives for this strange existence and I cannot judge the effects without knowing the causes; but this much I know, that a helping hand has always been extended to us since our arrival on Lincoln Island. We all owe our lives to a good, generous, powerful being and this powerful, generous, good being is you, Captain Nemo!”

The captain simply replied, “It is I.”

The engineer and the reporter got up. Their companions approached and the gratitude which was overflowing from their hearts was translated by gestures, by words...

Captain Nemo stopped them with a sign and with a voice doubtless more emotional than he had intended:

“Wait until you have heard me,” he said.[1]

And the captain, in a few clear and urgent sentences, made his entire life known.

His story was brief and yet he had to concentrate all his remaining energy to say it. It was evident that he was battling against an extreme weakness. Several times Cyrus Smith suggested that he take some rest but he shook his head, like a man who has no tomorrow, and when the reporter offered him some attention:

“It is useless,” he said, “my hours are numbered.”

Captain Nemo was an Indian, Prince Dakkar, the son of a rajah of the then independent territory of Bundelkund and a nephew of the Indian hero, Tippu-Sahib. His father sent him to Europe when he was ten years old in order that he receive a complete education with the secret intention that he would fight one day with equal arms against those whom he considered to be the oppressors of his country.

From the ages of ten to thirty, Prince Dakkar, who was superiorly endowed and of a noble heart and spirit, pursued his studies far and wide in all things, including the sciences, the letters and the arts.

Prince Dakkar travelled throughout Europe. His noble birth and his fortune made him sought after but the temptations of the world never had any attraction for him. Young and handsome, he remained serious, gloomy, ravenous in his thirst for knowledge, and having an implacable resentment riveted to his heart.

Prince Dakkar hated. He hated the only country where he never wished to set foot, the only nation whose overtures he constantly refused: he hated England and the more so because up to a point he admired it.

So it was that this Indian typified in himself all the fierce hatred of the vanquished against the conqueror. The invader would not find mercy in the invaded land. The son of one of those sovereigns from whom the United Kingdom could only expect nominal obedience, this prince from the family of Tippu-Sahib, raised on the ideas of vindication and of vengeance, having an irresistible love for his poetic country burdened by English chains, never wanted to set foot on this cursed land to which India owed its enslavement.

Prince Dakkar became an artist nobly impressed with the marvels of art, a scientist who was no stranger to advanced science, a statesman trained amongst European courts. To those who observed him casually he passed perhaps as one of those cosmopolitans, curious about knowledge, but scorning action, one of those opulent travellers with a fiery and platonic spirit who move about the world incessantly and are of no country.

This was not the case. This artist, this scientist, this man had remained Indian in his heart, Indian by his desire for vengeance, Indian by his hope of one day reclaiming the rights of his country by driving out the foreigner and restoring its independence.

Consequently Prince Dakkar returned to Bundelkund in the year 1849. He married a noble Indian woman whose heart bled as his did at her country’s misfortunes. He had two children whom he cherished. But his domestic happiness could not make him forget India’s enslavement. He waited for an occasion. It presented itself.

The English yoke weighed heavily on the Hindu population. Prince Dakkar became the spokesman for the malcontents. He instilled them with all the hatred which he felt against the foreigner. He scoured not only the still independent areas on the Indian Peninsula but also the regions directly subject to English administration. He remembered the great days of Tippu-Sahib who died heroically at Seringapatam in the defense of his country.

In 1857, the great Sepoy revolt erupted. Prince Dakkar was its soul. He organized the immense upheaval. He put his talents and his riches to the service of this cause. He sacrificed himself. He fought in the front lines, he risked his life like the humblest of those heros who had risen up to free their country; he was wounded ten times in twenty encounters but could not find death when the last soldiers of the fight for independence fell under English bullets.

Never had the English power in India been subject to such danger, and if, as they had hoped, the Sepoys had received help from the outside, it would perhaps have altered the influence and domination of the United Kingdom in Asia.

The name of Prince Dakkar was then illustrious. The heroes who supported him did not hide but fought openly. A price was put on his head and if he had not encountered a traitor to whom he entrusted his father, his mother, his wife and his children who would suffer before he realized the dangers he had caused them to undergo...

This time again, might made right. But civilization never goes backward and it seems to follow a necessary course. The Sepoys were vanquished and the land of the ancient rajahs again fell under the stricter domination of England.

Prince Dakkar, who could not find death, returned to the mountains of Bundelkund. There, henceforth alone, he was filled with disgust against all who carried the name of man, having a hatred and a horror of the civilized world and wanting to flee from it forever. He gathered the remains of his fortune, united with about twenty of his most trustworthy companions and one day they all disappeared.

Where then had Prince Dakkar gone to find this independence which the inhabited world refused him? Under the water, in the depths of the sea, where none could follow him.

The man of war became the scientist. On a deserted island in the Pacific he built a shipyard and there a submarine vessel was constructed based on his plans. By means which will one day be known, he used the incomparable force of electricity, which he drew from inexhaustible sources, for all the necessities of his floating apparatus, for movement, for lighting, and for heating. The sea, with its infinite treasures, its myriads of fish, its harvest of seaweed and sargassum, its enormous mammals, and not only everything put there by nature but also everything that mankind had lost there, would suffice amply for the needs of the prince and his crew. This was the accomplishment of his most vivid desire since he no longer wished to have any communication with the world. He named his submarine apparatus the Nautilus, he called himself Captain Nemo, and he disappeared beneath the seas.

For many years the captain visited all the oceans from one pole to the other. An outcast from the inhabited world, he gathered up admirable treasures from unknown worlds. The millions lost in the Bay of Vigo in 1702 by the Spanish galleons furnished him with an inexhaustible mine of riches which he always disposed anonymously in favor of those people who fought for the independence of their country.[2]

He was for a long time without any communication with his fellow beings when three men were thrown on board during the night of the 6th of November 1866. They were a French professor, his servant and a Canadian fisherman. These three men had been cast into the sea during a collision between the Nautilus and the United States frigate, the Abraham Lincoln, which was chasing it.

Captain Nemo learned from the professor that the Nautilus, sometimes taken as a giant mammal of the cetacean family, sometimes for a submarine apparatus containing a crew of pirates, was being pursued across all the seas.

Captain Nemo could have thrown back into the ocean these three men that chance had thrown across the path of his mysterious existence. He did not do that but kept them as prisoners and for seven months they were able to contemplate all the marvels of a voyage which covered twenty thousand leagues under the seas.

One day, the 22nd of June, 1867, these three men, who knew nothing of Captain Nemo’s past, succeeded in escaping after having gotten hold of the Nautilus’ boat. But since at that moment the Nautilus was trapped in a whirling maelstrom off the Norwegian coast, the captain assumed that the fugitives had drowned in the frightful eddy, finding death at the bottom of the whirlpool. He was ignorant then that the Frenchman and his two companions had been miraculously thrown on shore, that fishermen from the Lofoten Islands had saved them and that the professor, on his return to France, had published a book relating the seven months of this strange and adventurous journey of the Nautilus, indulging the public’s curiosity.

Captain Nemo still continued to live this way for a long time, following the seas. But little by little his companions died and went to their rest in their coral cemetery at the bottom of the Pacific. The Nautilus became empty and finally Captain Nemo alone remained of all those who had taken refuge with him in the depths of the ocean.

Captain Nemo was then sixty years old. Alone he succeeded in bringing his Nautilus to one of the submarine ports which he used at times.

One of these ports was hollowed out under Lincoln Island and it was this one which was now giving asylum to the Nautilus.

For six years the captain remained there, no longer navigating, awaiting death, that is to say the moment when he would be reunited with his companions when by chance he was present at the collapse of the balloon which was carrying the Southern prisoners. Putting on his diving suit, he walked under the water a few cables from shore when the engineer was thrown into the sea. On a generous impulse, the captain saved Cyrus Smith.

At first he wanted to run from these five castaways but his port of refuge was closed and as a consequence of a movement of the basalt produced by volcanic action, he could no longer pass through the entrance to the crypt. There was still enough water for a small boat to pass but no longer enough for the Nautilus which had a considerable displacement.

Captain Nemo therefore remained to observe these men, thrown without resources on a deserted island but he did not wish to be seen. Little by little, as he saw their honesty, energy and their fraternal devotion to one another, he became interested in their efforts. In spite of himself, he learned all the secrets of their existence. By means of the diving suit it was easy for him to reach the bottom of the inside well of Granite House and climb up to the upper opening, using the projections in the rock. He overheard the colonists telling about their past and discussing the present and the future. From them he learned of the immense effort to abolish slavery with American fighting American. Yes! These were men worthy of Captain Nemo’s reconciliation with the well represented humanity on the island.

Captain Nemo had saved Cyrus Smith. It was also he who brought the dog to the Chimneys, who threw Top out of the waters of the lake, who stranded at Flotsom Point this case which contained so many things useful to the colonists, who put the canoe back into the Mercy’s current, who threw down the cord from the top of Granite House when the apes attacked it, who made Ayrton’s presence on Tabor Island known by means of the document enclosed in the bottle, who capsized the brig with the explosion of a torpedo placed at the bottom of the channel, who saved Herbert from a certain death by bringing the sulphate of quinine and finally who killed the convicts with these secret electrical bullets which he used for submarine hunting. This then explained these many incidents which seemed supernatural, all of which attested to the generosity and the power of the captain.

However, the noble misanthrope still yearned to do good. There remained some useful information for him to impart to his proteges and in addition, with death approaching, he yielded to the dictates of his heart and summoned the colonists of Granite House, as we know, by means of the wire linking the corral to the Nautilus which had an alphabetical apparatus... Perhaps he would not have done it if he had known that Cyrus Smith knew enough of his history to address him by the name of Nemo.

The captain ended the story of his life. Cyrus Smith then spoke; he recalled all the incidents which had exerted such beneficial influences on the colony and in the name of his companions as well as himself, he thanked the generous being to whom they owed so much.

But Captain Nemo had no thought of putting a price on the services which he had rendered. One last thought was on his mind and before shaking the hand that the engineer presented to him:

“Now, sir,” he said, “now that you know my life, what is your judgement?”

In so speaking the captain was evidently alluding to a serious incident which had been witnessed by the three strangers thrown on board—an incident which the French professor had necessarily related in his book. The memory of it was terrible.

In fact, a few days before the professor and his two companions escaped, the Nautilus, being pursued by a frigate in the North Atlantic, had rushed against it like a battering ram and sunk it without mercy.

Cyrus Smith understood the illusion and remained silent.

“It was an English frigate, sir,” Captain Nemo shouted, again becoming Prince Dakkar for a moment, “an English frigate, do you hear me? It attacked me! I was restricted to a narrow shallow bay... I had to pass, and... I passed. ”

Then, in a calmer voice:

“I had justice and right on my side,” he added. “I always showed mercy when I could but did harm when I had to. In all fairness, isn’t that pardonable?”

A few moments of silence followed this response and Captain Nemo again asked:

“What do you think of me, gentlemen?”

Cyrus Smith held out his hand to the captain and, as requested, he replied in a solemn voice:

“Captain, your error was in believing that you could bring back the past and you have opposed necessary progress. It was one of those errors that some admire and others blame but which God alone can judge and which rational mankind must forgive. We may oppose someone who is mistaken in his good intentions, but we should not cease to esteem him. Your error is not one of those that excludes admiration and your name has nothing to fear from the judgement of history. History loves heroic madness while condemning its consequences.”

Captain Nemo’s chest heaved and he pointed to heaven.

“Was I wrong, was I right?” he murmured.

“Was I wrong, was I right?...”

Cyrus Smith replied:

“All great deeds return to God from whence they came! The honest men here, whom you have saved, will always mourn you, Captain Nemo!”

Herbert approached the captain. He bent his knees, took his hand and knelt.

A tear glistened from the eyes of the dying man.

“My child,” he said, “bless you!...”

1. Captain Nemo's story has in fact been published under the title of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas. The same observation applies here that was made on the subject of Ayrton's adventures as it relates to the discrepancy of several dates. Readers may wish to refer to the note already published on this matter.
(Hetzel's note)

2. He was involved with the uprising of the Candiots who were in fact helped by Captain Nemo under these conditions.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Secret of the Island

Chapter XVII

Captain Nemo's last hours—The wishes of the dying man—A souvenir to his friends of a day—Captain Nemo's coffin—Some advice to the colonists—The supreme moment—At the bottom of the sea.

DAY returned. No rays of light penetrated into this deep crypt. High tide obstructed the opening at the moment. But the artificial light which escaped in a long beam over the sides of the Nautilus was not feeble and the sheet of water around the floating apparatus was always aglow.

An extreme fatigue then overcame Captain Nemo and he fell back on the divan. There was no thought of carrying him to Granite House because he had declared his desire to remain among the Nautilus’ marvels which millions could not pay for, awaiting death which would not be long in coming.

During the rather long prostration which kept him nearly unconscious, Cyrus Smith and Gideon Spilett carefully observed the patient’s condition. It was obvious that the captain was slowly dying. There was no strength left in this formerly robust body, now the frail envelope of a soul about to escape. All life was concentrated in the heart and in the head.

The engineer and the reporter spoke in low tones. Was there something they could do for the dying man? Could they, if not save him, at least prolong his life for a few days? He himself had said that there was no remedy and he quietly waited for the death which he did not fear.

“Can we do nothing?” said Gideon Spilett.

“But what is he dying of?” asked Pencroff.

“He is expiring,” replied the reporter.

“However,” replied the sailor, “if we carry him to the open air in full sunlight, perhaps he will revive?”

“No, Pencroff,” replied the engineer, “we must not try anything! Besides, Captain Nemo would not consent to leave his vessel. He has lived on board the Nautilus for thirty years and it is on the Nautilus that he wishes to die.”

Doubtless Captain Nemo heard Cyrus Smith’s reply because he got up a little and in a feeble but ever intelligent voice:

“You are right, sir,” he said. “I must and I wish to die here. Also I have a favor to ask of you.”

Cyrus Smith and his companions drew close to the divan and arranged the cushions so as to best support the dying man.

They could see that his attention was directed toward all the marvels of the salon, lighted by the electric rays which softened the arabesques of an illuminated ceiling. He looked, one after the other, at the paintings hanging from the splendid wall tapestries, these masterpieces of the Italian, Flemish, French and Spanish masters, the miniatures of marble and of bronze which were mounted on their pedestals, the magnificent organ against the rear wall, then the glass cases arranged around a central fountain in which were blooming the most admirable products of the sea, marine plants, zoophytes and strings of pearl of priceless value. Finally he looked at the motto inscribed on the fronton of this museum, the motto of the Nautilus

Mobilis in mobili.

It seemed that for one last time he wanted to caress with his eyes these masterpieces of art and of nature which had limited his horizon for so many years in the abyss of the seas.

Cyrus Smith respected Captain Nemo’s silence. He waited for the dying man to speak again.

After a few moments during which he doubtless reviewed his entire life, Captain Nemo turned toward the colonists and said to them:

“You feel, gentlemen, that you are indebted to me?...”

“Captain, we would give our lives to prolong yours!”

“Good,” replied Captain Nemo, “good!... Promise me that you will carry out my last wishes and I will be repaid for all that I have done for you.”

“We promise you that,” replied Cyrus Smith.

And with this promise he was obligating his companions as well as himself.

“Gentlemen,” replied the captain, “tomorrow I will die.”

With a sign, he stopped Herbert, who wanted to protest.

“Tomorrow I will die and I desire to have no other tomb than that of the Nautilus. For me it is my coffin. All my friends repose at the bottom of the sea. I wish to repose there also.”

Captain Nemo’s words were received in deep silence.

“Here me well, gentlemen,” he continued. “The Nautilus is imprisoned in this grotto whose entrance has been raised. But if it cannot leave its prison, it can at least be swallowed up by the abyss which will cover and protect my mortal remains.”

The colonists listened religiously to the words of the dying man.

“Tomorrow after my death, Mister Smith,” continued the captain, “you and your companions, you will leave the Nautilus because all the riches which it contains must disappear with me. One souvenir only will remain for you of Prince Dakkar whose history you now know. This chest... there... contains several millions in diamonds, for the most part souvenirs from a time when, as father and husband, I almost believed in happiness, and it contains a collection of pearls gathered by my friends and myself from the bottom of the sea. With this treasure, you will be able to do good deeds one day. In the hands of people like you and your companions, Mr. Smith, money will not be a danger. I will be up there, associated with your deeds, and I have no fears about that.”

This chest... there... contains several millions...

After resting a few moments because of his extreme weakness, the captain continued in these terms:

“Tomorrow you will take this chest, you will leave the salon and close the door; then you will climb up to the platform of the Nautilus and you will push down the hood which you will fasten by means of its bolts.”

“We will do that, Captain,” replied Cyrus Smith.

“Good. You will then get into the boat that brought you here. But before abandoning the Nautilus, go to the rear and there open two large watercocks which are on the water line. The water will penetrate into the reservoirs and the Nautilus will sink little by little under the water and come to rest at the bottom of the abyss.”

And, on a gesture from Cyrus Smith, the captain added:

“Fear nothing! You will only be burying a dead man!”

Neither Cyrus Smith nor any of his companions thought of saying anything to Captain Nemo. He had made his last wishes known and they would carry them out.

“I have your promise, gentlemen?” added Captain Nemo.

“You have it, Captain,” replied the engineer.

The captain made a sign of thanks and asked the colonists to leave him alone for a few hours. Gideon Spilett wanted to remain by his side in case a crisis came on, but the dying man refused, saying:

“I will live until tomorrow, sir.”

All left the salon, crossed the library and the dining room, and went forward to the engine room where the electrical apparatus was installed which furnished the mechanical force for the Nautilus as well as its heat and light.

The Nautilus was a masterpiece which contained masterpieces and the engineer was amazed.

The colonists climbed to the platform which was seven or eight feet above the water. There they stretched out near a thick double convex lens which sealed a sort of large eye from which a shower of light shot out. Behind this eye was a cabin which housed the wheel of the helm from whence the helmsman steered the Nautilus through the waters, with the electric rays lighting the way for a considerable distance.

Cyrus Smith and his companions remained silent at first because they were vividly impressed with all they had seen and heard and their hearts were touched when they thought of him whose hands had helped them so many times, that this protector whom they had barely known for a few hours would be dead the next day.

What judgement would be pronounced by posterity on the acts of this person who was, so to speak, extra-human. Prince Dakkar would always remain one of those strange people who could not be forgotten.

“That is a man!” said Pencroff. “Did he really live this way at the bottom of the ocean! And I think that perhaps he did not find any more tranquillity there than elsewhere.”

“The Nautilus,” Ayrton then noted, “could perhaps enable us to leave Lincoln Island and reach some inhabited land.”

“Curses!” shouted Pencroff, “I would never risk a trip in such a boat. Sail on the seas, good! but under the seas, no!”

“I think,” replied the reporter, “that it would be very easy to maneuver a submarine device such as the Nautilus, Pencroff, and that you would soon get used to it. No storms or collisions to fear. A few feet below the surface of the ocean the water is as calm as in a lake.”

“Possibly,” retorted the sailor, “but I much prefer a good wind aboard a well rigged vessel. A boat is made to sail on the seas, not under it.”

“My friends,” replied the engineer, “it is useless, at least as it concerns the Nautilus, to discuss this question of submarine vessels. The Nautilus is not ours and we have no right to use it. Besides, it could not serve us in any case. It cannot leave this cavern whose entrance is now blocked by a rise in the basaltic rocks. Captain Nemo wants it to sink with him after his death. His will is explicit and we will execute it.”

Cyrus Smith and his companions, after a conversation which was prolonged a while longer, again descended inside the Nautilus. There they took some nourishment and again entered the salon.

Captain Nemo had come out of this prostration that had overwhelmed him and his eyes had regained their brilliance. They saw something of a smile on his lips.

The colonists approached him.

“Gentlemen,” the captain said to them, “you are courageous men, honest and good. You are all devoted, without reservation, to your common goal. I have often observed you. I like you, I like you!... Your hand, Mister Smith!”

Cyrus Smith offered his hand to the captain who seized it affectionately.

“That is good!” he murmured.

Then, continuing:

“But enough about me! I must speak about you and about Lincoln Island on which you have found refuge... You count on leaving it?”

“To return to it, captain,” Pencroff vividly replied.

“To return to it?... In fact, Pencroff,” replied the captain smiling, “I know how much you love this island. It has been changed by your cares and it truly belongs to you.”

“Our plan, captain,” Cyrus Smith then said, “would be to turn it over to the United States and to establish a port of call here for our navy, which fortunately is situated in this part of the Pacific.”

“You think of your country, gentlemen,” replied the captain. “You work for its prosperity, for its glory. You are right. One’s land!... It is there that one must return! It is there that one should die!... And I, I die far from all that I have loved!”

“Do you have some last wish to convey,” asked the engineer vividly, “some souvenir to give to friends that you have left in the mountains of India?”

“No, Mister Smith. I no longer have friends! I am the last of my race... and I die long after all those I have known... But to return to you. Solitude and isolation are sad things, beyond human endurance... I die for having believed that one could live alone!... You must then do everything to leave Lincoln Island and see your native land again. I know that those wretches destroyed the boat that you made...”

“We are building a vessel,” said Gideon Spilett, “a vessel large enough to take us to the nearest lands; but if we succeed in leaving sooner or later, we will return to Lincoln Island. Too many memories bind us here to ever forget it!”

“It is here that we have known Captain Nemo,” said Cyrus Smith.

“It is here that we will find your memory intact!” added Herbert.

“And it is here that I will rest in eternal sleep if...,” replied the captain.

He hesitated and instead of finishing his sentence he was content to say:

“Mister Smith, I wish to speak to you... to you alone!”

The engineer’s companions, respecting this desire of the dying man, withdrew.

Cyrus Smith remained alone with Captain Nemo for only a few minutes and he soon called his friends back but he said nothing to them of the secret things which the dying man had wished to confide in him.

Gideon Spilett then observed the patient carefully. It was evident that the captain was no longer sustained by his moral energy which soon would not react against his physical weakness.

The day ended without any change manifesting itself. The colonists did not leave the Nautilus for an instant. Night came on, although it was impossible to know it in this crypt.

Captain Nemo did not suffer but was weakening. His noble figure, pale at the approach of death, was calm. At times nearly imperceptible words escaped his lips, recalling various incidents of his strange existence. They felt life leaving his body little by little. His extremities were already cold.

He still spoke once or twice to the colonists gathered near him and he smiled at them with the last smile that continues just into death.

Finally, a little after midnight, Captain Nemo made a supreme movement and he succeeded in crossing his arms on his chest as if he wanted to die in this position.

About one o’clock in the morning, all life was concentrated only in his look. One last flash shown under these pupils from whence so many flames had formerly spouted. Then, murmuring these words: “God and country!” he quietly expired.

Cyrus Smith then leaned over and closed the eyes of he who had been Prince Dakkar and who was no longer even Captain Nemo.

Herbert and Pencroff cried. Ayrton furtively wiped away a tear. Neb was on his knees near the reporter, transformed into a statue.

Cyrus Smith, raising his hand above the dead man’s head:

Cyrus Smith, raising his hand...

“May God receive his soul!” he said, and turning again to his friends, he added:

“Let us pray for him whom we have lost!” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A few hours later the colonists fulfilled the promise made to the captain. They carried out the last wishes of the dying man.

Cyrus Smith and his companions left the Nautilus after taking the only souvenir which their benefactor had bequeathed to them, this coffer which enclosed a hundred fortunes.

The marvelous salon, always flooded with light, was carefully closed. The iron plate door of the hatchway was then bolted so that not a drop of water could penetrate into the interior rooms of the Nautilus.

Then the colonists descended to the boat which was moored to the side of the submarine vessel.

The boat was moved to the rear. There, at the water line, were two large cocks which were associated with the reservoirs designed to control the immersion of the apparatus.

These cocks were opened, the reservoirs were filled and the Nautilus, sinking little by little, disappeared under the surface of the water.

The Nautilus sinking little by little...

But the colonists could still follow it through the deep layers. Its powerful beam lit up the transparent water while the crypt began to grow dark. Then this huge outpouring of electrical radiation finally died out and soon the Nautilus became the coffin of Captain Nemo and reposed at the bottom of the sea.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Secret of the Island

Chapter XVIII

Everyone's thoughts—Resuming construction activity—The 1st of January 1868—A trail of smoke at the top of the volcano—First symptoms of an eruption—Ayrton and Cyrus Smith at the corral—Exploration of Dakkar Crypt—What Captain Nemo told the engineer.

AT the break of day, the colonists silently reached the entrance of the cavern to which they gave the name “Dakkar Crypt,” in memory of Captain Nemo. The tide was then low and they easily passed under the arcade as the waves beat against the basaltic pier.

The sheet iron boat remained here sheltered from the waves. As an added precaution, Pencroff, Neb and Ayrton hauled it onto a small beach bordering one of the sides of the crypt where it would run no danger.

The storm had abated during the night. The last rumblings of thunder faded away in the west. It was no longer raining but the sky was still cloudy. In short, this month of October, the start of the southern spring, was not beginning in a satisfactory way. The wind had a tendency to skip from one point of the compass to another which would not allow them to count on fine weather.

On leaving Dakkar Crypt, Cyrus Smith and his companions followed the corral road. On the way Neb and Herbert took care to pull up the wire which the captain had put down between the corral and the crypt, which they could use later.

While walking, the colonists spoke little. The various incidents of the night of the 15th to the 16th of October vividly impressed them. This stranger, whose influence protected them so effectively, this man whom their imagination made into a genie, Captain Nemo was no longer alive. His Nautilus and he were buried at the bottom of an abyss. It seemed to everyone that they were more isolated than ever. They were, so to speak, accustomed to count on this powerful intervention which was lacking today and even Gideon Spilett and Cyrus Smith could not escape this impression. All kept a deep silence while following the corral road.

About nine o’clock in the morning the colonists re-entered Granite House.

It had been agreed that the construction of the vessel would be actively pursued and Cyrus Smith gave it his time and attention more than ever. They did not know what was in store for the future. It was a guaranty for the colonists to have a sturdy boat which could take to the sea even in bad weather and which was large enough to attempt a trip of some duration if need be. If, with the boat finished, the colonists still decided not to leave Lincoln Island and reach either some Polynesian archipelago of the Pacific or the coast of New Zealand, they could at least go to Tabor Island as soon as possible in order to leave a note there regarding Ayrton. This was an indispensable precaution to take in the event the Scotch yacht returned to these waters. Nothing must interfere with this task.

The activity was thus resumed. Cyrus Smith, Pencroff and Ayrton, aided by Neb, by Gideon Spilett and by Herbert, worked without respite whenever no other pressing task claimed them. It was necessary that the new boat should be ready in five months, that is to say at the beginning of March, if they wanted to visit Tabor Island before the equinoxial wind storms would render this crossing impractical. The carpenters did not lose a moment. Besides, they did not need to make any rigging because that from the Speedy had been completely saved. Thus the hull of the vessel had to be finished before anything else.

The end of the year 1868 passed in the midst of these important activities, to the exclusion of nearly all others. At the end of two and a half months, the frame had been put in place and the planking begun. They could already see that Cyrus Smith’s design was an excellent one and that the vessel would take well to the sea. Pencroff carried on this work ravenously and he did not hesitate to complain when one or another put down the carpenter’s saw for the hunter’s gun. It was best however to keep up the Granite House reserves in view of the coming winter. But that was not important. The worthy sailor was not content when there was a lack of workmen at the shipyard. On these occasions, while grumbling, he did, in fury, the work of six men.

All of the summer season was bad. For a few days the heat was overpowering and the air, saturated with electricity, would then discharge itself through violent storms which disturbed all levels of the atmosphere. It was rare when they did not hear a distant thunder. It was like a constant muffled murmur which occurs in the equatorial regions of the globe.

The first of January, 1869, was even ushered in by a storm of extreme violence and lightning struck the island several times. Some large trees were hit and broken, among others one of those enormous nettle trees which shaded the poultry yard at the southern end of the lake. Did this weather have some relation to the activity that was going on in the bowels of the earth? Did some connection exist between the disturbances in the air and the disturbances in the interior portions of the globe? Cyrus Smith was led to believe this because the development of these storms was marked by a renewed outbreak of volcanic symptoms.

It was the 3rd of January that Herbert, having ascended to Grand View Plateau at daybreak to saddle one of the onagers, saw an enormous trail of smoke spreading out above the top of the volcano.

Herbert immediately told the colonists who came running to look at the top of Mount Franklin.

“Ah!” shouted Pencroff, “it is not vapor this time! It seems to me that the giant is no longer content to breathe but to smoke!”

This image, used by the sailor, correctly indicated the change that had taken place at the mouth of the volcano. For the last three months, the crater had already emitted more or less intense vapors which still only originated from the interior boiling of the mineral material. This time there was a thick smoke in addition to the vapors, rising in a grayish column more than three hundred feet long at its base and spreading out like a huge mushroom to a height of seven or eight hundred feet above the top of the mountain.

“The fire is in the chimney,” said Gideon Spilett.

“And we cannot extinguish it!” replied Herbert.

“One should be able to sweep out volcanos,” noted Neb, who seemed to speak as if he were serious.

“Good, Neb,” shouted Pencroff. “And will you take on this cleanup?”

And Pencroff laughed heartily.

Cyrus Smith carefully observed this thick smoke coming out of Mount Franklin and he even cocked his ear as if he expected to detect some distant rumbling. Then returning to his companions whom he had left a short distance away:

“In fact, my friends, an important change has occurred which cannot remain hidden. The volcanic materials are no longer only in a boiling state, they have caught fire and very certainly we are menaced by an approaching eruption.”

“Well, Mister Smith, an eruption, we will see about that,” shouted Pencroff, “and if it succeeds, we will applaud it! I do not think that we need concern ourselves with it!”

“No, Pencroff,” replied Cyrus Smith, “because the old lava path is always open and thanks to its inclination, the crater has poured out to the north until now. And yet...”

“And yet, since there is no benefit to be derived from an eruption, it would be better if it did not take place,” said the reporter.

“Who knows?” replied the sailor. “There may perhaps be in this volcano some useful and precious material which it will obligingly vomit out and which we can put to good use.”

Cyrus Smith shook his head like a man who expected nothing good from this phenomenon whose development was so sudden. He did not view the consequences of an eruption as lightly as Pencroff did. If the lava, as a consequence of the orientation of the crater, did not directly menace the wooded and cultivated parts of the island, other complications could present themselves. In fact it is not rare for eruptions to be accompanied by earthquakes and an island of the nature of Lincoln Island, formed of such diverse materials, basalts on one side, granite on the other, lava to the north, soft soil in the middle, materials which in consequence could not be firmly held together, would run the risk of breaking up. If hence, the overflow of volcanic substances did not constitute a very serious danger, any movement of the terrestrial shell which would shake the island could produce extremely serious consequences.

“It seems to me,” said Ayrton, who had put his ear to the ground, “It seems to me that I hear some muffled rumblings like a cart loaded with iron bars.”

The colonists listened carefully and could affirm that Ayrton was not mistaken. At times a whistling sound was mixed with the rumblings, forming a sort of “rinforzando” dying out little by little as if some violent wind had passed through the depths of the globe. But no detonation, properly called, was heard as yet. They could thus conclude that the vapor and the smoke found a free passage through the central chimney and since the valve was rather large, no dislocation would be produced and no explosion was to be feared.

“It seems to me,” said Ayrton, “that I hear...”

“So!” Pencroff then said, “shall we return to work? Let Mount Franklin smoke, brawl, groan and vomit fire and flames as much as it pleases, that is no reason to be idle! Come Ayrton, Neb, Herbert, Mister Cyrus, Mister Spilett, everyone must be at work today! We are ready to put the wales in place and a dozen hands will not be too many. Before two months are over I want our new Bonadventure—because we will use this name, is that not so—to float on the waters of Port Balloon! So there is not an hour to lose.”

All the colonists, whose hands were requisitioned by Pencroff, descended to the shipyard and proceeded to put in place the wales, which are thick planks that form a belt around a boat and firmly tie together the timbers of its frame. It was a long and arduous task in which everyone had to take part.

They worked industriously during the entire day of the 3rd of January without concerning themselves with the volcano, which besides they could not see from the Granite House beach. But once or twice large clouds veiled the sun which, in describing its daily path in an extremely pure sky, indicated that a thick haze of smoke passed between its disk and the island. The wind, blowing in the open, carried all these vapors westward. Cyrus Smith and Gideon Spilett took good note of these passing clouds and during several rest breaks they talked about the progress which the volcanic phenomenon was evidently making, but the work was not interrupted. It was besides, in their best interest from all points of view, that the boat be finished with the briefest delay. Considering the many things that could occur, the security of the colonists could not be better guaranteed. Who could say if the vessel would not one day be their only refuge?

That evening, after supper, Cyrus Smith, Gideon Spilett and Herbert again ascended Grand View Plateau. Night had already come on and the darkness would permit them to determine if the vapors and the smoke accumulating at the mouth of the crater were mixed either with flames or with incandescent material thrown out by the volcano.

“The crater is on fire,” shouted Herbert who, being more nimble than his companions, was the first to reach the plateau.

Mount Franklin, about six miles away, appeared then like a gigantic torch on top of which some fuliginous flames were twirling about. There was so much smoke and slag and ashes perhaps mixed in, that their very feeble glare did not keenly affect the darkness of the night. But a sort of fawn colored glimmer diffused over the island and the nearby woods vaguely stood out. An immense cloud covered the sky through which several stars twinkled.

“The progress is rapid!” said the engineer.

“That is not astonishing,” replied the reporter. “The awakening of the volcano has already been going on for some time. You will recall, Cyrus, that the first vapors appeared about the time we were searching the buttresses of the mountain to discover Captain Nemo’s retreat. That was, if I am not mistaken, about the 15th of October.”

“Yes!” replied Herbert, “which is already two and a half months!”

“The subterranean fires have thus been incubating for ten weeks,” continued Gideon Spilett, “and it is not astonishing that they are now so violent.”

“Don’t you feel certain vibrations in the ground?” asked Cyrus Smith.

“Quite so,” replied Gideon Spilett, “but that will not lead to an earthquake...”

“I do not say that we are menaced by an earthquake,” replied Cyrus Smith, “and may God save us from that! No. These vibrations are due to the agitation of the central fire. The terrestrial shell is nothing more than the wall of a boiler and you know that the wall of a boiler, under gas pressure, vibrates like a sounding board. It is this effect which is produced at this moment.”

“What magnificent sprays of fire!” shouted Herbert.

At this moment, a sort of cluster of fireworks spurt out from the crater which the vapors could not conceal. Thousands of luminous fragments and fiery sparks went in all directions. Some reached above the smoke, bursting in sudden sprays and leaving behind them a real incandescent cloud. This illumination was accompanied by successive detonations, like the splitting noise from an artillery battery.

Cyrus Smith, the reporter and the lad, after having passed an hour on Grand View Plateau, redescended to the beach and reached Granite House. The engineer was pensive, even preoccupied to the point that Gideon Spilett felt that he should ask him if he had a foreboding of some approaching danger of which the eruption would be the direct or indirect cause.

“Yes and no,” replied Cyrus Smith.

“Nevertheless,” continued the reporter, “isn’t the greatest misfortune which could overtake us, an earthquake which would overturn the island? Now I do not feel that this is to be feared since the vapors and the lava have found a free passage to overflow to the outside.”

“I also,” replied Cyrus Smith, “do not fear an earthquake in the sense that is ordinarily given, of convulsions of the ground provoked by the expansion of subterranean vapors. But other causes can bring on great disasters.”

“Such as, my dear Cyrus?”

“I do not know enough... it is necessary that I see... that I visit the mountain... Before a few days are over I will have made up my mind.”

Gideon Spilett did not insist and soon, in spite of the detonations of the volcano whose intensity increased and were repeated in the echoes of the island, the hosts of Granite House were in a deep sleep.

Three days passed, the 4th, 5th and 6th of January. They always worked on the construction of the boat and without otherwise giving any explanation, the engineer accelerated the work with all his power. Mount Franklin was then wrapped in a sinister dark cloud and with the flames it vomited incandescent rocks, some of which fell back into the crater itself. Pencroff only wanted to consider the phenomenon from an amusing point of view and said:

“Look! The giant who plays at cup-and-ball! The giant who juggles!”

And in fact, the vomited material fell back into the abyss and it did not seem that the lava, pumped up by the interior pressure, was any higher than the orifice of the crater. In any event, the northwest outlet, which was partly visible, did not discharge any torrent on the northern slope of the mountain.

However, much as they pressed on with the construction, other cares claimed the presence of the colonists at various places on the island. Before anything else, someone had to go to the corral where the flock of sheep and goats were enclosed, to renew the fodder for these animals. It was therefore agreed that Ayrton would return there the next day, the 7th of January, and since he could do this task by himself as was his custom, Pencroff and the others manifested a certain surprise when they heard the engineer say to Ayrton:

“Since you are going to the corral tomorrow, I will accompany you there.”

“Well, Mister Cyrus,” shouted the sailor, “our work days are limited and if you also leave, we will have four hands less!”

“We will return the next day,” replied Cyrus Smith, “but I must go to the corral... I want to see how the eruption is coming along.”

“The eruption! The eruption!” replied Pencroff with little satisfaction. “This eruption is of no importance and it hardly concerns me.”

In spite of what the sailor said, the exploration planned by the engineer was kept for the next day. Herbert wanted to accompany Cyrus Smith but he did not want to go contrary to Pencroff by absenting himself.

The next day at dawn, Cyrus Smith and Ayrton climbed into the cart drawn by the two onagers. They took to the corral road at a good trot.

Above the forest passed large clouds to which Mount Franklin continually furnished sooty matter. These clouds, which weighed heavily in the sky, were evidently composed of heterogeneous substances. It was not only the smoke from the volcano which made them so strangely opaque and heavy. Slag in the form of dust with pulverized pozzuolana and grey cinders as fine as the finest cereal, were held in suspension in thick spirals. These cinders are so fine that they are sometimes seen in the sky for months. After the eruption in 1783 in Iceland, the atmosphere was so full of volcanic dust that the rays of the sun could barely pierce through for over a year.

But most often these pulverized materials fall down and that is what happened on this occasion. Cyrus Smith and Ayrton had barely arrived at the corral when a sort of black snow, resembling a light gun powder, fell and instantly changed the appearance of the ground. Trees, prairies, everything disappeared under a layer measuring several inches in thickness. But very fortunately the wind blew from the northeast and the largest part of the cloud dissolved itself over the sea .

“That is strange, Mister Smith,” said Ayrton.

“That is serious,” replied the engineer. “This pozzuolana, these pulverized pumice rocks, all this mineral dust in a word, shows how acute is the turmoil in the lower layers of the volcano.”

“But is there nothing to be done?”

“Nothing but to record the progress of the phenomenon. Occupy yourself then, Ayrton, with the needs of the corral. During this time I will ascend to the sources of Red Creek and I will examine the condition of the mountain on its northern slope. Then...”

“Then... Mister Smith.”

“Then we will pay a visit to Dakkar Crypt... I want to see... In short I will return for you in two hours.”

Ayrton then went inside the corral and while waiting for the return of the engineer he occupied himself with the sheep and the goats who seemed to experience a certain uneasiness at the first symptoms of an eruption.

Cyrus Smith ventured to the top of the eastern buttresses, rounded Red Creek and reached the place where his companions and he had discovered a sulphur source at the time of their first expedition.

How things had changed. In place of a single column of smoke, he counted thirteen bursting out of the ground as if they were violently propelled by some piston. It was evident that the terrestrial crust was subject to a frightful pressure at this point of the globe. The atmosphere was saturated with sulphur gas, with hydrogen and with carbonic acid mixed with humid vapors. Cyrus Smith felt vibrations from some volcanic tuffs which were scattered over the plain. They were only pulverulent cinders which in time would become hard blocks, but he still did not see any trace of new lava.

How things had changed.

The engineer was able to affirm this better when he saw the northern side of Mount Franklin. Eddies of smoke and flame escaped from the crater; a shower of slag fell on the ground; but no overflow of lava was seen from the neck of the crater, which proved that the level of the volcanic materials had still not reached the upper opening of the central chimney.

“And I would much prefer that it did!” said Cyrus Smith to himself. “At least I would be certain that the lava had taken its usual path. Who knows if it will not overflow by some new opening? But that is not the danger! Captain Nemo foresaw it well! No! The danger is not there.”

Cyrus Smith advanced up to the enormous embankment which extended to the border of the narrow Shark Gulf. He could then adequately examine the face of the old streaks of lava. He had no doubt that the last eruption dated back a long time.

Then he retraced his steps, listening to the subterranean rumblings which sounded like a continual thunder and from which loud detonations let loose. At nine o’clock in the morning he returned to the corral.

Ayrton was waiting for him.

“The animals are attended to, Mister Smith,” said Ayrton.

“Good, Ayrton.”

“They seem uneasy, Mr. Smith.”

“Yes, instinct speaks in them, and instinct is not mistaken.”

“When do you wish...”

“Take a lantern and a flint, Ayrton,” replied the engineer, “and let us leave.”

Ayrton did as he was commanded. The onagers were unharnessed and wandered off into the corral. The door was closed from the outside and Cyrus Smith, preceding Ayrton, took the narrow path which led to the western coast.

Both walked on soil padded by pulverized material fallen from the clouds. No quadruped appeared in the woods. The birds themselves had fled. At times a passing breeze lifted the layer of cinder and the two colonists, caught in an opaque eddy, could no longer see. They then had to take care to apply a handkerchief to their eyes and their mouths because they then ran the risk of being blinded and suffocated.

Under these conditions, Cyrus Smith and Ayrton could not move quickly. Besides, the air was heavy as if its oxygen had been partly burnt and this made breathing difficult. Every hundred feet they had to stop to catch their breath. Thus it was after ten o’clock when the engineer and his companion reached the crest of this enormous heap of basaltic and porphyritic rocks which formed the northwest coast of the island.

Ayrton and Cyrus Smith began to descend this abrupt coast following very nearly the difficult road which had led them to Dakkar Crypt during that night of the storm. In full daylight this descent was less perilous and besides, a layer of cinders covered the polished rocks, assuring them a firmer footing on the sloping surfaces.

The shoulder which extended along the shore at a height of about forty feet was soon reached. Cyrus Smith remembered that this shoulder descended with a gentle slope to the level of the sea. Although the tide was low at the moment, no beach was visible and the waves, dirtied by the volcanic dust, struck directly against the basalts of the coast.

Cyrus Smith and Ayrton again found the opening to Dakkar Crypt without difficulty and they stopped at the last rock which formed the lower floor of the shoulder.

“The iron plated boat should be there,” said the engineer.

“It is there, Mister Smith,” replied Ayrton, pulling toward him the light boat which was sheltered under the arch of the arcade.

“Let us embark, Ayrton.”

The two colonists got into the boat. A gentle ondulation of the waves propelled it further under the very low arch of the crypt and there Ayrton struck the flint and lit the lantern. Then he took to the oars. The lantern was placed at the bow of the boat with its rays projecting ahead. Cyrus Smith took the rudder and went into the darkness of the crypt.

The Nautilus was no longer there to illuminate this somber cavern with its lights. Perhaps the electrical radiation, constantly nourished by its powerful furnace, was still shining at the bottom of the water but no light left the abyss where Captain Nemo reposed.

The light from the lantern, although insufficient, nevertheless permitted the engineer to advance following the right wall of the crypt. A deadly silence reigned under this vault, at least in its anterior portion. But soon Cyrus Smith heard distinct rumblings which came from the bowels of the mountain.

“It is the volcano,” he said.

Soon, with the noise, chemical combinations were betrayed by a vivid odor and the sulphurous vapors seized the engineer and his companion by the throat.

“That is what Captain Nemo feared!” murmured Cyrus Smith, whose face paled slightly. Nevertheless he had to go to the end.

“Let us go!” replied Ayrton, who bent over his oars and moved the boat toward the back of the crypt.

Twenty five minutes after having crossed the opening, the boat reached the terminal wall and stopped.

Cyrus Smith, getting up from his seat, passed the lantern over the various parts of the wall which separated the crypt from the central chimney of the volcano. How thick was this wall? Was it a hundred feet or ten. That could not be said. But the subterranean noises were too perceptible for it to be very thick.

The engineer, after having explored the wall along a horizontal line, placed the lantern at the extremity of an oar and he passed it anew over the basaltic wall at a greater height.

There, at barely visible fissures, through badly jointed prisms, a pungent odor perspired which infected the atmosphere of the cavern. Fractures streaked over the wall and some more vividly delineated ones reached down to within a mere two or three feet from the water level of the crypt.

There, at barely visible fissures...

Cyrus Smith at first remained pensive. Then he again murmured these words:

“Yes! The captain was right! There is the danger and a terrible danger!”

Ayrton said nothing but at a sign from Cyrus Smith he again took to the oars and a half hour later the engineer and he left Dakkar Crypt.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:41 $

The Mysterious Island: The Secret of the Island

Chapter XIX

Cyrus Smith’s account of his exploration—They speed up the construction—A last visit to the corral—The battle between fire and water—What remains of the surface of the island—They decide to launch the vessel—The night of the 8th to the 9th of March.

THE next morning, the 8th of January, after a day and a night passed at the corral, all things being in order, Cyrus Smith and Ayrton returned to Granite House.

The engineer assembled his companions at once and told them that Lincoln Island was subject to an immense danger that no human power could avert.

“My friends,” he said—and his voice revealed a deep emotion—, “Lincoln Island is not one of those that will endure as long as the globe itself. It is destined in the near future to a destruction the cause of which is in itself and nothing can avoid it.”

The colonists looked at each other and at the engineer. They did not understand him.

“Explain yourself, Cyrus,” said Gideon Spilett.

“I will explain myself,” replied Cyrus Smith, “or rather I will only transmit to you the explanation which Captain Nemo gave me during the few minutes of our secret talk.”

“Captain Nemo!” shouted the colonists.

“Yes, and it is the last service which he wished to render us before dying.”

“The last service!” shouted Pencroff. “The last service! You will see that although he is dead he will render us still others!”

“But what did Captain Nemo say to you?” asked the reporter.

“Know it then, my friends,” replied the engineer. “Lincoln Island is not like other islands of the Pacific and a particular condition which Captain Nemo made known to me must sooner or later bring on a destruction of its submarine framework.”

“Destruction! Lincoln Island! Come now!” shouted Pencroff who, in spite of all the respect he had for Cyrus Smith, could not refrain from shrugging his shoulders.

“Listen to me, Pencroff,” continued the engineer. “This is what Captain Nemo said and what I confirmed myself during the exploration which I made in Dakkar Crypt yesterday. This crypt extends under the island as far as the volcano and it is separated from the central chimney by the wall at its end. Now this wall is covered with fractures and fizzures which already allow the passage of sulphurous gases from the interior of the volcano.”

“And so?” asked Pencroff, whose forehead wrinkled up.

“And so I recognized that these fractures were growing larger under the interior pressure, that the basalt wall was cracking little by little and that in a more or less short time it would allow a passage for the sea water which fills the cavern.”

“Good!” replied Pencroff, who once more was still trying to make a joke. “The sea will extinguish the volcano and everything will be finished!”

“Yes, everything will be finished,” replied Cyrus Smith. “On the day when the sea rushes through the wall and penetrates through the central chimney into the bowels of the island where the eruptive materials are boiling, on that day, Pencroff, Lincoln Island will explode like Sicily would explode if the Mediterranean came rushing into Etna!”

The colonists did not reply to this affirmative statement from the engineer. They understood the danger that menaced them.

It must be said besides, that Cyrus Smith did not exaggerate in any way. Many people have the idea that one can perhaps extinguish volcanos which are nearly all located at the borders of a sea or a lake by opening a passage for their water. But they do not realize that this would run the risk of blowing up a part of the globe like a boiler which is suddenly subjected to overheating. The water, rushing into a confined region whose temperature is perhaps measured in thousands of degrees, would vaporize with such sudden energy that no casing could contain it.

Thus there was no doubt that the island, threatened by a frightful and forthcoming destruction, would endure only as long as the wall of Dakkar Crypt would itself endure. It was not even a question of months nor even of weeks but a question of days, of hours perhaps!

The first sentiment of the colonists was one of deep sorrow! They thought not of the peril which directly threatened them but of the destruction of this land which had given them asylum, this island which they had fertilized, this island which they loved, which they wanted to render so flourishing one day! So much effort uselessly dispensed, so much work lost!

Pencroff could not hold back a large tear which glistened on his cheek and which he did not try to hide.

The conversation continued for a little while longer. The chances to which the colonists could still count on were discussed but they concluded that there was not an hour to lose, that the construction and layout of the vessel must be pursued prodigiously and that this was now the only chance of safety for the inhabitants of Lincoln Island!

All hands thus were needed. Of what use was it to reap, harvest, hunt, or increase the reserves of Granite House? What was still in the storeroom and the pantry would suffice, and even to provision the vessel for a trip, however long it might be! They had what they needed until such time as the inevitable catastrophe would occur.

The work was resumed at a feverish pace. Around the 23rd of January the vessel was half sided. Until then there had been no change at the top of the volcano. It was always vapor and smoke mixed with flames and incandescent stones which escaped from the crater. But during the night of the 23rd to the 24th, under the pressure of the lava which reached the level of the first stage of the volcano, the cone which formed the cap was blown off. A frightful noise was heard. At first the colonists thought that the island had cracked apart. They rushed outside Granite House.

It was about two o’clock in the morning.

The sky was on fire. The upper cone—a mass a thousand feet in height weighing millions of pounds—had fallen on the island making the ground tremble. Fortunately the cone inclined northward and it fell on the plain of sand and tuffs which extended between the volcano and the sea. The crater, now largely open, projected an intense light toward the sky which by the simple effect of reverberation seemed to make the atmosphere incandescent. At the same time, a torrent of lava swelled up at the new summit and poured out in long cascades like water which escapes from an overfull vase. A thousand serpents of fire crawled over the slope of the volcano.

“The corral! The corral!” shouted Ayrton.

It was in fact toward the corral that the lava was flowing as a result of the orientation of the new crater and consequently it was the fertile parts of the island, the sources of Red Creek and Jacamar Woods which were threatened with immediate destruction.

At Ayrton’s cry, the colonists rushed toward the onagers’ stable. The cart was harnessed. All had but one thought, to rush to the corral and set the animals which it enclosed at liberty.

Before three o’clock in the morning they arrived at the corral. The frightful howlings of the sheep and the goats indicated their terror. Already a torrent of incandescent material and liquified minerals fell from the buttresses on to the prairie and sapped away at this side of the palisade. The door was abruptly opened by Ayrton and the maddened animals escaped in all directions.

One hour later the boiling lava filled the corral, vaporizing the water from the small brook which crossed it, setting fire to the house which burned like coal dust and devouring the palisaded enclosure to the last post. Nothing remained of the corral.

The colonists wanted to battle against this invasion. They would have done so madly and uselessly because man is helpless in the presence of great disasters.

Day came on—the 24th of January. Cyrus Smith and his companions, before returning to Granite House, wanted to observe the definite direction which the deluge of lava would take. The general slope of the ground went downhill from Mount Franklin to the east coast and they feared that in spite of the thick Jacamar Woods, the torrent would reach Grand View Plateau.

“The lake will protect us,” said Gideon Spilett.

“I hope so!” replied Cyrus Smith and that was his only response.

The colonists would have wanted to advance up to the plain on which the upper cone from Mount Franklin had fallen but the lava now barred the way. It followed Red Creek valley on the one hand and Falls River valley on the other, vaporizing these two watercourses by its passage. There was no possibility of crossing this torrent. On the contrary, they had to withdraw in front of it. The uncapped volcano was no longer recognizable. A sort of smooth table terminated it and replaced the former crater. Lava was pouring out incessantly from two cracks in the south and east rims, thus forming two distinct currents. Above the new crater, a cloud of smoke and cinders was mixed with some vapors of the atmosphere massed over the island. Thunder burst forth mingled with the rumblings from the mountain. Igneous rocks escaped from its mouth. They were thrown more that a thousand feet, bursting in the sky and dispersing like grapeshot. The sky replied to the volcanic eruption with flashes of lightning.

Around seven o’clock in the morning, the position was no longer tenable for the colonists who had taken refuge at the edge of Jacamar Woods. Not only did projectiles begin to rain around them but lava, overflowing the bed of Red Creek, threatened to cut off the corral road. The first rows of trees caught fire and their sap, suddenly transformed to vapor, burst like firecrackers, while other less humid ones remained intact in the midst of the flooding.

The position was no longer tenable...

The colonists moved back on the corral road. They walked slowly, retreating so to speak. But because of the inclination of the ground, the torrent gained rapidly in the east, and as soon as lower layers of lava became hard, other bubbling layers covered them.

Nevertheless, the main current from the valley of Red Creek became more menacing. All of this part of the forest caught fire and enormous curls of smoke twirled above the trees whose crackling feet were already in the lava.

The colonists stopped near the lake, a half mile from the mouth of Red Creek. A question of life and death was now to be decided by them.

Cyrus Smith, accustomed to deal with serious situations, and knowing that he was addressing men capable of hearing the truth whatever it might be, then said:

“Either the lake will stop the flow and a part of the island will be preserved from complete devastation or the flow will invade the forests of the Far West and not a tree, not a plant will remain on the surface. We will have nothing to look forward to on these bare rocks but death from an explosion of the island!”

“Then,” shouted Pencroff, crossing his arms and stamping on the ground, “it is useless to work on the boat, is it not?”

“Pencroff,” replied Cyrus Smith, “we must do our duty to the end!”

At this moment the torrent of lava, after blazing a trail through the fine trees that it was destroying, reached the edge of the lake. There was a certain elevation in the ground there which if it had been higher could perhaps suffice to contain the torrent.

“To work!” shouted Cyrus Smith.

The engineer’s idea was understood immediately. They must dam up this torrent so to speak, and compel it to overflow into the lake.

The colonists ran to the shipyard. They brought back shovels, pickaxes, axes and by means of earthworks and fallen trees they succeeded in a few hours in erecting a dam three feet high and several hundred feet in length. It seemed to them, when they were finished, that they had barely worked for a few minutes!

It was just in time. The liquified material reached the lower part of the earthwork almost immediately. The torrent swelled up like a flooded river trying to overflow, and it threatened to pass over this only obstacle which prevented it from invading all of the Far West... But the dam succeeded in containing it and after a terrible minute of hesitation it fell down twenty feet into Lake Grant.

The colonists, out of breath, looked at this battle between the two elements without making a gesture and without saying a word.

What a spectacle was this combat between fire and water! What pen could describe this scene of marvellous horror, and what brush could paint it! The water hissed and evaporated on contact with the boiling lava. The vapors were thrown into the air, twirling to a great height as if the valves of an immense boiler had suddenly been opened. But as considerable as was the mass of water contained in the lake, it must in the end be absorbed because the torrent, fed by an inexhaustible source, kept flowing with new waves of incandescent material.

What a spectacle was this combat between fire and water!

The first lava which fell into the lake solidified immediately, accumulated and soon emerged. Other lava slid over its surface, becoming hard in its turn but gaining toward the center. A jetty of sorts formed and threatened to fill up the lake which did not overflow because the excess water evaporated. Hissings and cracklings rent the air with a deafening noise and the steam, caught up by the wind, fell back into the sea as rain. The jetty became longer and blocks of solidified lava piled up on each other. Where formerly there had been peaceful water, there now appeared an enormous pileup of smoking rocks as if an uprising of the ground had make a thousand reefs appear. If one could imagine the water agitated during a storm, then suddenly solidified by a twenty degree frost, he would have a picture of the lake three hours after the irresistible torrent had erupted.

This time water would be vanquished by fire.

However, it was a fortunate circumstance for the colonists that the discharge of the lava had been directly toward Lake Grant. They had before them several days of respite. Grand View Plateau, Granite House and the construction yard were preserved for the moment. Now these few days must be used to plank the vessel and to caulk it carefully. Then they would launch it and take refuge on it, leaving the rigging for when it was in its element. With the fear of the explosion which threatened to destroy the island, there was no longer any security in remaining on land. The Granite House retreat, formerly so secure, could become blocked up within its granite walls at any moment!

During the six days which followed, from the 25th to the 30th of January, the colonists did as much work on the vessel as twenty men could have done. Hardly taking any rest, the glare from the flames which rushed out from the crater allowed them to continue day and night. The volcano was always overflowing but perhaps with less abundance. This was fortunate because Lake Grant was almost entirely filled and if new lava would have piled up over the surface of the old, it would inevitably spill on to Grand View Plateau and from there on to the beach.

But if this side of the island was partly protected, it was not so with the western portion.

In fact, the second current of lava which had followed the large valley of Falls River whose terrain was depressed on each side of the creek, had found no obstacle. The incandescent liquid therefore flowed across the forests of the Far West. At this time of the year, when the trees were dry from the torrid heat, the forest caught fire instantly, with the fire propagating simultaneously at the base of the trunks and by the high branches whose interlacing aided the progress of the conflagration. It even seemed that the current of flame at the top of the trees moved faster than the current of lava below.

The maddened animals, jaguars, boars, capybaras, koalas, game of ground and sky, took refuge on the banks of the Mercy and in the Tadorn marsh beyond the road to Port Balloon. But the colonists were too preoccupied with their work to pay any attention to even the most formidable of these animals. Besides, they had abandoned Granite House. They had not even wanted to find shelter in the Chimneys and they camped under a tent near the mouth of the Mercy.

Every day Cyrus Smith and Gideon Spilett ascended to Grand View Plateau. Sometimes Herbert accompanied them but never Pencroff who did not wish to see the profoundly devastated island under its new aspect.

In fact it was a distressing spectacle. All the wooded part of the island was now bare. A single cluster of green trees stood at the extremity of Serpentine Peninsula. Here and there several branchless blackened stumps grimaced. The land on which the destroyed forests were located was more barren than the Tadorn marsh. The enroachment of lava was complete. Where formerly wonderful foliage grew, the ground was now only a savage pile of volcanic tuffs. The valleys of Falls River and of the Mercy did not spill a single drop of water into the sea and the colonists would not have had any means of appeasing their thirst if Lake Grant had been completely dry. But fortunately its southern corner had been spared and formed a sort of pond containing all that remained of the potable water on the island. Toward the northwest, the grim and rugged outlines of the buttresses of the volcano looked like gigantic claws grasping the ground. What a sorrowful spectacle, what an appalling sight, and what regrets for these colonists who, from a fertile domain covered with forests, irrigated by watercourses, enriched by crops, to find themselves in an instant transported to a devastated rock on which, without their reserves, they would not even have been able to live!

“It breaks my heart,” Gideon Spilett said one day.

“Yes, Spilett,” replied the engineer. “May Heaven give us time to finish this boat, now our only refuge.”

“Do you not find, Cyrus, that the volcano seems to be getting calmer? It is still vomiting lava, but less abundantly, if I am not mistaken!”

“That’s of little importance,” replied Cyrus Smith. “The fire is always burning in the bowels of the mountain and the sea can rush in at any moment. We are in the position of passengers whose vessel is being devoured by a fire that they cannot extinguish and who know that sooner or later it will reach the powder room! Come Spilett, come and let us not lose an hour!”

During the next eight days, that is to say until the 7th of February, the lava continued to pour out but the eruption kept within the indicated limits. Cyrus Smith feared above all else that the liquified material would overflow on the beach and in that case the shipyard would not be spared. However, about this time, the colonists felt vibrations in the framework of the island which made them uneasy to the highest degree.

It was the 20th of February. There was still a month before the vessel was fit to go to sea. Would the island hold up until then? Pencroff’s and Cyrus Smith’s intention was to proceed with the launching of the vessel as soon as the hull was sufficiently watertight. The bridge, the superstructure, the interior arrangements and the rigging would be done later, but the important thing was that the colonists would have a secure refuge off the island. Perhaps it would be better to take the vessel to Port Balloon, that is to say as far as possible from the eruptive center, because at the mouth of the Mercy, between the islet and the granite wall, it ran the risk of being crushed in case of the island’s breakup. All the efforts of the workers were therefore directed toward finishing the hull.

They reached the 3rd of March and they could plan that the launching would take place in about a dozen days.

Hope returned to the colonists, so stricken with misfortune during this fourth year of their stay on Lincoln Island! Pencroff himself seemed to come a little out of this gloomy taciturnity into which the ruin and devastation of his domain had plunged him. He thought of nothing truly but of this vessel on which he concentrated all his hopes.

“We will finish it!” he said to the engineer. “We will finish it, Mister Cyrus, and it will be just in time because the season is advanced and we will soon be at the height of the equinox. Oh well, if need be we will put in at Tabor Island and pass the winter there! But Tabor Island after Lincoln Island! Ah! Woe of my life! Did I ever believe that I would see such a thing!”

“Let us hurry!” the engineer would inevitably reply.

And they worked on without losing a moment.

“My master,” asked Neb a few days later. “If Captain Nemo had still been alive, do you think that all this would have happened?”

“Yes, Neb,” replied Cyrus Smith.

“Oh well, as for me, I do not believe it!” murmured Pencroff in Neb’s ear.

“Nor I,” replied Neb seriously.

During the first week of March, Mount Franklin again became threatening. Thousands of glass threads, made of liquid lava, fell on the ground like rain. The crater again filled with lava which poured out on all sides of the volcano. The torrent ran over the surface of the hardened tuffs and ended by destroying the straggling skeletons of trees which had withstood the first eruption. The flow, following this time the southwest bank of Lake Grant, carried as far as Glycerin Creek and overran Grand View Plateau. This last stroke, affecting the accomplishments of the colonists, was terrible. The windmill, the houses of the poultry yard, the stables, nothing remained of them. The frightened birds disappeared in all directions. Top and Jup gave signs of the greatest fright and their instinct forewarned them that a catastrophe was near. A good number of the animals had perished during the first eruption. Those that had survived found refuge at the Tadorn marsh, except for the few to whom Grand View Plateau offered asylum. But this last retreat was finally closed to them and the river of lava, overflowing the edge of the granite wall, began to rain its cataracts of fire on the beach. The sublime horror of this spectacle escapes all description. During the night it was like a Niagara of molten liquid with its incandescent vapors above and its bubbling masses below!

The colonists were forced into their last entrenchment and even though the upper seams of the vessel still had not been caulked, they resolved to launch it!

Pencroff and Ayrton proceeded then with the preparations for the launching which was to have taken place the next day on the morning of the 9th of March.

But during the night of the 8th to the 9th an enormous column of vapor, escaping from the crater, rose to a height of more than three thousand feet amidst frightful detonations. The wall of Dakkar cavern had evidently given way under the pressure of the gas, and the sea, rushing into the fire-emitting abyss by way of the central chimney, suddenly vaporized. But the crater could not give a sufficient outlet for these vapors. An explosion, which was heard a hundred miles away, shook the air. Pieces of mountain fell back into the sea and in a few minutes the ocean covered the place where Lincoln Island had been.

An explosion shook the air.

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:42 $

The Mysterious Island: The Secret of the Island

Chapter XX

An isolated rock in the Pacific—The last refuge of the colonists of Lincoln Island—Death in view—Unexpected help—Why and how it came—The last benefaction—An island on firm ground—The tomb of Captain Nemo.

AN ISOLATED rock, thirty feet long, fifteen wide, emerging barely ten feet, such was the only solid point that had not been overrun by the waves of the Pacific.

It was all that remained of the block of Granite House! The wall had been overthrown, then broken up, and a few rocks from the large hall had piled up so as to form this culminating point. All had disappeared in the abyss around them; the lower cone of Mount Franklin torn apart by the explosion, the lava jaws of Shark Gulf, Grand View Plateau, Safety Islet, the granites of Port Balloon, the basalts of Dakkar Crypt, the long Serpentine Peninsula so far from the eruptive center! Of Lincoln Island they could only see this narrow rock which now served as a refuge for six colonists and their dog Top.

The animals had likewise perished in the catastrophe, the birds as well as the other representatives of the fauna of the island, all crushed or drowned and the unfortunate Jup himself had alas! found death in some crevice in the ground!

If Cyrus Smith, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, Pencroff, Neb and Ayrton had survived, it was because, gathered then under their tent, they had been thrown into the sea at the moment when the debris from the island rained down on all sides.

When they returned to the surface, they could see only this pile of rocks half a cable away to which they swam and on which they set foot.

It was on this bare rock that they had lived for the last nine days! A few provisions taken from the Granite House storeroom before the catastrophe, a little sweet water which the rain had spilled into a crack in a rock, that was all that the unfortunates possessed. Their last hope, their vessel, had been destroyed. They had no means of leaving this reef. No fire nor the means to make it. They were destined to perish!

On this day, the 18th of March, there only remained provisions for two days even though they had consumed only what was strictly necessary. All their science, all their intelligence could do nothing for them in this situation. They were completely in the hands of God.

Cyrus Smith was calm. Gideon Spilett was nervous and Pencroff, a prey to muted anger, went back and forth on the rock. Herbert did not leave the engineer and looked at him as if asking of him help which the latter could not provide. Neb and Ayrton were resigned to their fate.

“Ah! Misery! Misery!” Pencroff repeated often. “If we only had even a nutshell to take us to Tabor Island! But nothing, nothing!”

“Captain Nemo did well to die,” Neb once said.

During the five days which followed, Cyrus Smith and his unfortunate companions lived with the most extreme parsimony, eating just enough so as not to succumb to hunger. Their weakness was extreme. Herbert and Neb began to show some signs of delirium.

In this situation could they even preserve a shadow of hope? No! What was their only chance? That a vessel would pass in view of the reef? But they well knew from experience that ships never visited this portion of the Pacific! Could they count then that by a truly providential coincidence the Scotch yacht would come precisely at this time to look for Ayrton at Tabor Island? That was improbable and besides, even admitting that it did come there, since the colonists had not been able to leave a notice indicating the changes that befell Ayrton, the commander of the yacht, after having searched the islet without result, would again take to the sea to go back to lower latitudes.

No! They could not preserve any hope of being saved and a horrible death, a death from hunger and from thirst, awaited them on this rock!

And already they were stretched out on this rock, inanimate, not having any awareness of what was going on around them. Ayrton alone, by a supreme effort, still raised his head and threw a desperate look at this deserted sea!...

But there on the morning of the 24th of March, Ayrton’s arms reached out toward a point in space. He got up, on his knees at first, then erect, his hand seemed to make a signal...

Ayrton’s arms reached out...

A vessel was in sight of the island! This vessel was not sailing the sea at random. The reef was the goal toward which it was moving in a straight line under full steam and the unfortunates would have seen it several hours earlier if they had still had the strength to observe the horizon!

“The Duncan!” murmured Ayrton and he fell back without movement. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

When Cyrus Smith and his companions regained consciousness thanks to the cares which had been showered upon them, they found themselves in the room of a steamer without being able to understand how they had escaped death.

A word from Ayrton sufficed to tell them everything.

“The Duncan!” he murmured.

“The Duncan!” replied Cyrus Smith.

And raising his arms toward Heaven he cried:

“Ah! All powerful God! It is by your will that we are saved!”

It was the Duncan in fact, Lord Glenarvan’s yacht, now commanded by Robert, the son of Captain Grant, which had been sent to Tabor Island to look for Ayrton there and to repatriate him after twelve years of expiation...

The colonists were saved. They were already on their way home!

“Captain Robert,” asked Cyrus Smith, “who could have given you the idea, after having left Tabor Island where you no longer found Ayrton, of going a hundred miles to the northeast?”

“Mister Smith,” replied Robert Grant, “it was to find not only Ayrton but your companions and you!”

“My companions and me?”

“Doubtless! At Lincoln Island!”

“Lincoln Island!” Gideon Spilett, Herbert, Neb and Pencroff shouted at the same time at the highest degree of astonishment.

“How do you know about Lincoln Island?” asked Cyrus Smith, “since this island is not even marked on the maps?”

“I knew about it from a notice that you left on Tabor Island,” replied Robert Grant.

“A notice?” shouted Gideon Spilett.

“Without doubt and here it is,” replied Robert Grant, presenting a document which indicated the position of Lincoln Island in longitude and in latitude, “the actual residence of Ayrton and of five American colonists.”

“Captain Nemo!...” said Cyrus Smith, after having read the notice and having recognized that it was the same hand that had written the document found at the corral!

“Ah!” said Pencroff, “so it was he who took our Bonadventure, he who chanced the trip to Mount Tabor alone!...”

“To leave this notice there!” replied Herbert.

“So I had good reason to say,” shouted the sailor, “that even after his death the captain would still render us a last service!”

“My friends,” said Cyrus Smith with a voice of deep emotion, “may God of all mercy receive the soul of Captain Nemo, our savior!”

The colonists uncovered themselves on hearing Cyrus Smith and murmured the name of the captain.

At this moment Ayrton approached the engineer and said to him simply:

“What should be done with this coffer?”

It was the coffer which Ayrton had saved at peril to his life at the moment when the island was engulfed, and which he came faithfully to give to the engineer.

“Ayrton! Ayrton!” said Cyrus Smith with deep emotion.

Then addressing himself to Robert Grant:

“Sir” he added, “where you left a culprit you now find a man that expiation has made honest and to whom I am proud to offer my hand!”

Robert Grant was then told about the strange history of Captain Nemo and of the colonists of Lincoln Island. Then making a record of what remained of this reef which would henceforth figure in the maps of the Pacific, he gave the order to turn around.

Fifteen days later the colonists landed in America and they again found their country at peace after this terrible war which had brought the triumph of justice and of right.

Of the riches contained in the coffer bequeathed by Captain Nemo to the colonists of Lincoln Island, the largest part was used in the acquisition of a vast domain in the state of Iowa. A single pearl, the finest, was set aside from this treasure and sent to Lady Glenarvan in the name of the castaways repatriated by the Duncan.

There, on this domain, the colonists called to labor, that is to say to fortune and to happiness, all those that they had intended to offer the hospitality of Lincoln island. There they founded a vast colony to which they gave the name of the island that had disappeared in the depths of the Pacific. They found there a river which was called the Mercy, a mountain which took the name of Franklin, a small lake which was Lake Grant, forests which became the forest of the Far West. It was like an island on terra firma.

There, under the intelligent hand of the engineer and of his companions, all prospered. Not one of the former colonists of Lincoln Island was missing because they had sworn to live together always, Neb where his master was, Ayrton ready to sacrifice himself on all occasions, Pencroff more a farmer than he had ever been a sailor, Herbert whose studies were completed under the direction of Cyrus Smith, Gideon Spilett who himself founded the New Lincoln Herald which was the most informed journal of the entire world.

There Cyrus Smith and his companions received visits on several occasions from Lord and Lady Glenarvan, from Captain John Mangles and his wife, the sister of Robert Grant, from Robert Grant himself, from Major MacNabbs, from all those who had been associated with the double history of Captain Grant and of Captain Nemo.

There, at last, all were happy, united in the present as they had been in the past; but never could they forget this island on which they had arrived poor and bare, this island which for four years had sufficed for their needs and of which nothing remained any longer but a piece of granite battered by the waves of the Pacific, the tomb of him who had been Captain Nemo!

END OF THE THIRD AND LAST PART

JV.Gilead.org.il

Translation Copyright © 1992 Sidney Kravitz

Copyright © Zvi Har’El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:42 $

THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND

by

JULES VERNE

Unabridged translation

from the French by

Sidney Kravitz

Original illustrations by

Jules-Descartes Férat

The Castaways from the Sky

The Abandoned

The Secret of the Island

Translation copyright © 1992 by Sidney Kravitz, 592 Herrick Drive, Dover, New Jersey 07801-2013

This translation may be distributed and copied freely, in its entirety, for personal use. All original translator and copyright information must remain intact. Any sales or other uses of this document are expressly forbidden without the specific consent of the translator and copyright owner.

This unedited translation by Sidney Kravitz was subsequently edited by Arthur B. Evans and, together with an introduction and critical material by William Butcher, was published in 2001 by Wesleyan University Press. The ISBN of the hard cover version of this edition is 0-8195-6475-3. The ISBN of the soft cover version is 0-8195-6559-8. To purchase a copy, call toll-free at 1-800-421-1561 or order online at UPNE.

Edited to HTML by Zvi Har'El

JV.Gilead.org.il

Copyright © Zvi Har'El

$Date: 2007/12/23 17:44:40 $

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The Mysterious Island

Jules Verne

Early Classics of Science Fiction

Wesleyan University Press

2002 • 728 pp. 44 illus. 6 x 9"

Science Fiction / Fiction Classics / Literary Criticism - French

$26.95 Paper, 978-0-8195-6559-4

Trans. from the 1874 French ed.

“. . .The many good things contained in this book begin and rely on translator Sydney Kravitz's wonderful rendering of Verne's original words. There is nothing fusty or dull about this tale, as filtered through Kravitz's talents. The dialogue sounds like actual people might speak it, and hardly any archaic constructions obtrude. Reading this prose is pure pleasure; it allows the story itself to leap free.”—SciFi.com

First new unabridged translation since 1876 of one of Verne's best-known novels.

At a time when Verne is making a comeback in the US as a mainstream literary figure, Wesleyan is pleased to publish a new translation of one of his best-known novels, The Mysterious Island. Although several editions under the same title are in print, most reproduce a bowdlerized nineteenth-century translation which changes the names of the characters, omits several important scenes, and ideologically censors Verne's original text.

The Mysterious Island was published in 1874, and it is one of Verne's longest novels. The plot depicts a group of men who have become castaways stranded on an island in the Pacific during the American Civil War. The novel describes their attempts not only to survive but also, with the aid of the scientific and technological know-how, to rebuild their world from the meager resources of the island. At the end, however, it is realized that Captain Nemo, from Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, has secretly been helping the settlers. A marvelous adventure story, The Mysterious Island is also notable for its modern retelling of the utopian deserted-island myth, with repeated echoes of Robinson Crusoe and the Swiss Family Robinson. This Wesleyan edition features notes, appendices and an introduction by Verne scholar William Butcher, as well as reproductions of the illustrations from the original French edition.

Reviews:

"With the publication of The Kip Brothers and The Mysterious Island, it is no longer possible to dismiss Verne as a 'children’s author'…. Revealing the sociological, scientific, historical, and geographic breadth of his vision, these titles provide room for critical speculation for years to come."

—Janice M. Bogstad, Journal of the Fantastic in the Arts

Jules Verne (1828 - 1905) was the first author to popularize the literary genre of science fiction. Laying a careful scientific foundation for his fantastic adventure stories, he forecast with remarkable accuracy many scientific achievements of the 20th century. He anticipated flights into outer space, submarines, helicopters, air conditioning, guided missiles, and motion pictures long before they were developed.

Sidney Kravitz is a retired scientist and engineer who has published many articles in mathematics and engineering magazines throughout the world. He spent fourteen years translating The Mysterious Island. William Butcher is Senior Lecturer in English at the Hong Kong Institute of Education, author of Verne's Journey to the Center of the Self: Space and Time in the "Voyages Extraordinaires" (1990), and translator of Journey to the Centre of the Earth by Jules Verne (translation, introduction and critical edition, 1992), Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne (1995), and Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne (1998).

Thu, 30 Jun 2011 18:16:04 -0500

Table of Contents

JULES VERNE

Sidney Kravitz

Jules-Descartes Férat

First Part

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Chapter XVII

Chapter XVIII

Chapter XIX

Chapter XX

Chapter XXI

Chapter XXII

END OF THE FIRST PART

Chapter I

Second Part

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Chapter XVII

Chapter XVIII

Chapter XIX

Chapter XX

END OF THE SECOND PART

Chapter I

Third Part

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Chapter XVII

Chapter XVIII

Chapter XIX

Chapter XX

END OF THE THIRD AND LAST PART

JULES VERNE

Sidney Kravitz

Jules-Descartes Férat