The third corn-field was very much larger than the two first, and the
soil, prepared with extreme care, received the precious seed. That done,
Pencroft returned to his work.
During this time Spilett and Herbert hunted in the neighborhood, and
they ventured deep into the still unknown parts of the Far West, their
guns loaded with ball, ready for any dangerous emergency. It was a vast
thicket of magnificent trees, crowded together as if pressed for room.
The exploration of these dense masses of wood was difficult in
the extreme, and the reporter never ventured there without the
pocket-compass, for the sun scarcely pierced through the thick foliage
and it would have been very difficult for them to retrace their way.
It naturally happened that game was more rare in those situations where
there was hardly sufficient room to move; two or three large herbivorous
animals were however killed during the last fortnight of April. These
were koalas, specimens of which the settlers had already seen to the
north of the lake, and which stupidly allowed themselves to be killed
among the thick branches of the trees in which they took refuge. Their
skins were brought back to Granite House, and there, by the help of
sulphuric acid, they were subjected to a sort of tanning process which
rendered them capable of being used.
On the 30th of April, the two sportsmen were in the depth of the Far
West, when the reporter, preceding Herbert a few paces, arrived in
a sort of clearing, into which the trees more sparsely scattered had
permitted a few rays to penetrate. Gideon Spilett was at first surprised
at the odor which exhaled from certain plants with straight stalks,
round and branchy, bearing grape-like clusters of flowers and very small
berries. The reporter broke off one or two of these stalks and returned
to the lad, to whom he said,--
“What can this be, Herbert?”
“Well, Mr. Spilett,” said Herbert, “this is a treasure which will secure
you Pencroft’s gratitude forever.”
“Is it tobacco?”
“Yes, and though it may not be of the first quality, it is none the less
tobacco!”
“Oh, good old Pencroft! Won’t he be pleased! But we must not let him
smoke it all, he must give us our share.”
“Ah! an idea occurs to me, Mr. Spilett,” replied Herbert. “Don’t let us
say anything to Pencroft yet; we will prepare these leaves, and one fine
day we will present him with a pipe already filled!”
“All right, Herbert, and on that day our worthy companion will have
nothing left to wish for in this world.”
The reporter and the lad secured a good store of the precious plant, and
then returned to Granite House, where they smuggled it in with as much
precaution as if Pencroft had been the most vigilant and severe of
custom-house officers.
Cyrus Harding and Neb were taken into confidence, and the sailor
suspected nothing during the whole time, necessarily somewhat long,
which was required in order to dry the small leaves, chop them up, and
subject them to a certain torrefaction on hot stones. This took two
months; but all these manipulations were successfully carried on unknown
to Pencroft, for, occupied with the construction of his boat, he only
returned to Granite House at the hour of rest.
For some days they had observed an enormous animal two or three miles
out in the open sea swimming around Lincoln Island. This was a whale
of the largest size, which apparently belonged to the southern species,
called the “Cape Whale.”
“What a lucky chance it would be if we could capture it!” cried the
sailor. “Ah! if we only had a proper boat and a good harpoon, I would
say ‘After the beast,’ for he would be well worth the trouble of
catching!”
“Well, Pencroft,” observed Harding, “I should much like to watch you
handling a harpoon. It would be very interesting.”
“I am astonished,” said the reporter, “to see a whale in this
comparatively high latitude.”
“Why so, Mr. Spilett?” replied Herbert. “We are exactly in that part of
the Pacific which English and American whalemen 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 numbers.”
And Pencroft returned to his work, not without uttering a sigh of
regret, for every sailor is a born fisherman, and if the pleasure of
fishing is in exact proportion to the size of the animal, one can judge
how a whaler feels in sight of a whale. And if this had only been for
pleasure! But they could not help feeling how valuable such a prize
would have been to the colony, for the oil, fat, and bones would have
been put to many uses.
Now it happened that this whale appeared to have no wish to leave the
waters of the island. Therefore, whether from the windows of Granite
House, or from Prospect Heights, Herbert and Gideon Spilett, when they
were not hunting, or Neb, unless presiding over his fires, never left
the telescope, but watched all the animal’s movements. The cetacean,
having entered far into Union Bay, made rapid furrows across it from
Mandible Cape to Claw Cape, propelled by its enormously powerful flukes,
on which it supported itself, and making its way through the water
at the rate little short of twelve knots. Sometimes also it
approached so near to the island that it could be clearly distinguished.
It was the southern whale, which is completely black, the head being
more depressed than that of the northern whale.
They could also see it throwing up from its air-holes to a great
height a cloud of vapor, or of water, for, strange as it may appear,
naturalists and whalers are not agreed on this subject. Is it air or is
it water which is thus driven out? It is generally admitted to be vapor,
which, condensing suddenly by contact with the cold air, falls again as
rain.
However, the presence of this mammifer preoccupied the colonists. It
irritated Pencroft especially, as he could think of nothing else while
at work. He ended by longing for it, like a child for a thing which it
has been denied. At night he talked about it in his sleep, and certainly
if he had had the means of attacking it, if the sloop had been in a fit
state to put to sea, he would not have hesitated to set out in pursuit.
But what the colonists could not do for themselves chance did for them,
and on the 3rd of May shouts from Neb, who had stationed himself at the
kitchen window, announced that the whale was stranded on the beach of
the island.
Herbert and Gideon Spilett, who were just about to set out hunting,
left their guns, Pencroft threw down his ax, and Harding and Neb joining
their companions, all rushed towards the scene of action.
The stranding had taken place on the beach of Flotsam Point, three miles
from Granite House, and at high tide. It was therefore probable that the
cetacean would not be able to extricate itself easily; at any rate it
was best to hasten, so as to cut off its retreat if necessary. They ran
with pick-axes and iron-tipped poles in their hands, passed over the
Mercy bridge, descended the right bank of the river, along the beach,
and in less than twenty minutes the settlers were close to the enormous
animal, above which flocks of birds already hovered.
“What a monster!” cried Neb.
And the exclamation was natural, for it was a southern whale, eighty
feet long, a giant of the species, probably not weighing less than a
hundred and fifty thousand pounds!
In the meanwhile, the monster thus stranded did not move, nor attempt by
struggling to regain the water while the tide was still high.
It was dead, and a harpoon was sticking out of its left side.
“There are whalers in these quarters, then?” said Gideon Spilett
directly.
“Oh, Mr. Spilett, that doesn’t prove anything!” replied Pencroft.
“Whales have been known to go thousands of miles with a harpoon in
the side, and this one might even have been struck in the north of the
Atlantic and come to die in the south of the Pacific, and it would be
nothing astonishing.”
Pencroft, having torn the harpoon from the animal’s side, read this
inscription on it:
MARIA STELLA, VINEYARD
“A vessel from the Vineyard! A ship from my country!” he cried. “The
‘Maria Stella!’ A fine whaler, ‘pon my word; I know her well! Oh, my
friends, a vessel from the Vineyard!--a whaler from the Vineyard!”
And the sailor brandishing the harpoon, repeated, not without emotion,
the name which he loved so well--the name of his birthplace.
But as it could not be expected that the “Maria Stella” would come to
reclaim the animal harpooned by her, they resolved to begin cutting it
up before decomposition should commence. The birds, who had watched
this rich prey for several days, had determined to take possession of it
without further delay, and it was necessary to drive them off by firing
at them repeatedly.
The whale was a female, and a large quantity of milk was taken from it,
which, according to the opinion of the naturalist Duffenbach, might pass
for cow’s milk, and, indeed, it differs from it neither in taste, color,
nor density.
Pencroft had formerly served on board a whaling-ship, and he could
methodically direct the operation of cutting up, a sufficiently
disagreeable operation lasting three days, but from which the settlers
did not flinch, not even Gideon Spilett, who, as the sailor said, would
end by making a “real good castaway.”
The blubber, cut in parallel slices of two feet and a half in thickness,
then divided into pieces which might weigh about a thousand pounds each,
was melted down in large earthen pots brought to the spot, for they did
not wish to taint the environs of Granite House, and in this fusion it
lost nearly a third of its weight.
But there was an immense quantity of it; the tongue alone yielded six
thousand pounds of oil, and the lower lip four thousand. Then, besides
the fat, which would insure for a long time a store of stearine and
glycerine, there were still the bones, for which a use could doubtless
be found, although there were neither umbrellas nor stays used at
Granite House. The upper part of the mouth of the cetacean was, indeed,
provided on both sides with eight hundred horny blades, very elastic,
of a fibrous texture, and fringed at the edge like great combs, at which
the teeth, six feet long, served to retain the thousands of animalculae,
little fish, and molluscs, on which the whale fed.
The operation finished, to the great satisfaction of the operators, the
remains of the animal were left to the birds, who would soon make every
vestige of it disappear, and their usual daily occupations were resumed
by the inmates of Granite House.
However, before returning to the dockyard, Cyrus Harding conceived
the idea of fabricating certain machines, which greatly excited the
curiosity of his companions. He took a dozen of the whale’s bones, cut
them into six equal parts, and sharpened their ends.
“This machine is not my own invention, and it is frequently employed
by the Aleutian hunters in Russian America. You see these bones, my
friends; well, when it freezes, I will bend them, and then wet them
with water till they are entirely covered with ice, which will keep them
bent, and I will strew them on the snow, having previously covered them
with fat. Now, what will happen if a hungry animal swallows one of these
baits? Why, the heat of his stomach will melt the ice, and the bone,
springing straight, will pierce him with its sharp points.”
“Well! I do call that ingenious!” said Pencroft.
“And it will spare the powder and shot,” rejoined Cyrus Harding.
“That will be better than traps!” added Neb.
In the meanwhile the boat-building progressed, and towards the end of
the month half the planking was completed. It could already be seen that
her shape was excellent, and that she would sail well.
Pencroft worked with unparalleled ardor, and only a sturdy frame could
have borne such fatigue; but his companions were preparing in secret a
reward for his labors, and on the 31st of May he was to meet with one of
the greatest joys of his life.
On that day, after dinner, just as he was about to leave the table,
Pencroft felt a hand on his shoulder.
It was the hand of Gideon Spilett, who said,--
“One moment, Master Pencroft, you mustn’t sneak off like that! You’ve
forgotten your dessert.”
“Thank you, Mr. Spilett,” replied the sailor, “I am going back to my
work.”
“Well, a cup of coffee, my friend?”
“Nothing more.”
“A pipe, then?”
Pencroft jumped up, and his great good-natured face grew pale when he
saw the reporter presenting him with a ready-filled pipe, and Herbert
with a glowing coal.
The sailor endeavored to speak, but could not get out a word; so,
seizing the pipe, he carried it to his lips, then applying the coal,
he drew five or six great whiffs. A fragrant blue cloud soon arose, and
from its depths a voice was heard repeating excitedly,--
“Tobacco! real tobacco!”
“Yes, Pencroft,” returned Cyrus Harding, “and very good tobacco too!”
“O, divine Providence; sacred Author of all things!” cried the sailor.
“Nothing more is now wanting to our island.”
And Pencroft smoked, and smoked, and smoked.
“And who made this discovery?” he asked at length. “You, Herbert, no
doubt?”
“No, Pencroft, it was Mr. Spilett.”
“Mr. Spilett!” exclaimed the sailor, seizing the reporter, and clasping
him to his breast with such a squeeze that he had never felt anything
like it before.
“Oh Pencroft,” said Spilett, recovering his breath at last, “a truce for
one moment. You must share your gratitude with Herbert, who recognized
the plant, with Cyrus, who prepared it, and with Neb, who took a great
deal of trouble to keep our secret.”
“Well, my friends, I will repay you some day,” replied the sailor. “Now
we are friends for life.”
Chapter 11
Winter arrived with the month of June, which is the December of the
northern zones, and the great business was the making of warm and solid
clothing.
The musmons in the corral had been stripped of their wool, and this
precious textile material was now to be transformed into stuff.
Of course Cyrus Harding, having at his disposal neither carders,
combers, polishers, stretchers, twisters, mule-jenny, nor self-acting
machine to spin the wool, nor loom to weave it, was obliged to proceed
in a simpler way, so as to do without spinning and weaving. And indeed
he proposed to make use of the property which the filaments of wool
possess when subjected to a powerful pressure of mixing together, and of
manufacturing by this simple process the material called felt. This felt
could then be obtained by a simple operation which, if it diminished
the flexibility of the stuff, increased its power of retaining heat in
proportion. Now the wool furnished by the musmons was composed of very
short hairs, and was in a good condition to be felted.
The engineer, aided by his companions, including Pencroft, who was once
more obliged to leave his boat, commenced the preliminary operations,
the subject of which was to rid the wool of that fat and oily substance
with which it is impregnated, and which is called grease. This cleaning
was done in vats filled with water, which was maintained at the
temperature of seventy degrees, and in which the wool was soaked for
four-and-twenty hours; it was then thoroughly washed in baths of soda,
and, when sufficiently dried by pressure, it was in a state to be
compressed, that is to say, to produce a solid material, rough, no
doubt, and such as would have no value in a manufacturing center of
Europe or America, but which would be highly esteemed in the Lincoln
Island markets.
This sort of material must have been known from the most ancient times,
and, in fact, the first woolen stuffs were manufactured by the process
which Harding was now about to employ. Where Harding’s engineering
qualifications now came into play was in the construction of the machine
for pressing the wool; for he knew how to turn ingeniously to profit
the mechanical force, hitherto unused, which the waterfall on the beach
possessed to move a fulling-mill.
Nothing could be more rudimentary. The wool was placed in troughs, and
upon it fell in turns heavy wooden mallets; such was the machine in
question, and such it had been for centuries until the time when the
mallets were replaced by cylinders of compression, and the material was
no longer subjected to beating, but to regular rolling.
The operation, ably directed by Cyrus Harding, was a complete success.
The wool, previously impregnated with a solution of soap, intended on
the one hand to facilitate the interlacing, the compression, and the
softening of the wool, and on the other to prevent its diminution by
the beating, issued from the mill in the shape of thick felt cloth. The
roughnesses with which the staple of wool is naturally filled were so
thoroughly entangled and interlaced together that a material was formed
equally suitable either for garments or bedclothes. It was certainly
neither merino, muslin, cashmere, rep, satin, alpaca, cloth, nor
flannel. It was “Lincolnian felt,” and Lincoln Island possessed yet
another manufacture. The colonists had now warm garments and thick
bedclothes, and they could without fear await the approach of the winter
of 1866-67.
The severe cold began to be felt about the 20th of June, and, to his
great regret, Pencroft was obliged to suspend his boat-building, which
he hoped to finish in time for next spring.
The sailor’s great idea was to make a voyage of discovery to Tabor
Island, although Harding could not approve of a voyage simply for
curiosity’s sake, for there was evidently nothing to be found on this
desert and almost arid rock. A voyage of a hundred and fifty miles in a
comparatively small vessel, over unknown seas, could not but cause him
some anxiety. Suppose that their vessel, once out at sea, should be
unable to reach Tabor Island, and could not return to Lincoln Island,
what would become of her in the midst of the Pacific, so fruitful of
disasters?
Harding often talked over this project with Pencroft, and he found him
strangely bent upon undertaking this voyage, for which determination he
himself could give no sufficient reason.
“Now,” said the engineer one day to him, “I must observe, my friend,
that after having said so much, in praise of Lincoln Island, after
having spoken so often of the sorrow you would feel if you were obliged
to forsake it, you are the first to wish to leave it.”
“Only to leave it for a few days,” replied Pencroft, “only for a few
days, captain. Time to go and come back, and see what that islet is
like!”
“But it is not nearly as good as Lincoln Island.”
“I know that beforehand.”
“Then why venture there?”
“To know what is going on in Tabor Island.”
“But nothing is going on there; nothing could happen there.”
“Who knows?”
“And if you are caught in a hurricane?”
“There is no fear of that in the fine season,” replied Pencroft.
“But, captain, as we must provide against everything, I shall ask your
permission to take Herbert only with me on this voyage.”
“Pencroft,” replied the engineer, placing his hand on the sailor’s
shoulder, “if any misfortune happens to you, or to this lad, whom
chance has made our child, do you think we could ever cease to blame
ourselves?”
“Captain Harding,” replied Pencroft, with unshaken confidence, “we
shall not cause you that sorrow. Besides, we will speak further of this
voyage, when the time comes to make it. And I fancy, when you have seen
our tight-rigged little craft, when you have observed how she behaves at
sea, when we sail round our island, for we will do so together--I fancy,
I say, that you will no longer hesitate to let me go. I don’t conceal
from you that your boat will be a masterpiece.”
“Say ‘our’ boat, at least, Pencroft,” replied the engineer, disarmed for
the moment. The conversation ended thus, to be resumed later on, without
convincing either the sailor or the engineer.
The first snow fell towards the end of the month of June. The corral had
previously been largely supplied with stores, so that daily visits to
it were not requisite; but it was decided that more than a week should
never be allowed to pass without someone going to it.
Traps were again set, and the machines manufactured by Harding were
tried. The bent whalebones, imprisoned in a case of ice, and covered
with a thick outer layer of fat, were placed on the border of the forest
at a spot where animals usually passed on their way to the lake.
To the engineer’s great satisfaction, this invention, copied from the
Aleutian fishermen, succeeded perfectly. A dozen foxes, a few wild
boars, and even a jaguar, were taken in this way, the animals being
found dead, their stomachs pierced by the unbent bones.
An incident must here be related, not only as interesting in itself, but
because it was the first attempt made by the colonists to communicate
with the rest of mankind.
Gideon Spilett had already several times pondered whether to throw into
the sea a letter enclosed in a bottle, which currents might perhaps
carry to an inhabited coast, or to confide it to pigeons.
But how could it be seriously hoped that either pigeons or bottles could
cross the distance of twelve hundred miles which separated the island
from any inhabited land? It would have been pure folly.
But on the 30th of June the capture was effected, not without
difficulty, of an albatross, which a shot from Herbert’s gun had
slightly wounded in the foot. It was a magnificent bird, measuring ten
feet from wing to wing, and which could traverse seas as wide as the
Pacific.
Herbert would have liked to keep this superb bird, as its wound would
soon heal, and he thought he could tame it; but Spilett explained to
him that they should not neglect this opportunity of attempting to
communicate by this messenger with the lands of the Pacific; for if the
albatross had come from some inhabited region, there was no doubt but
that it would return there so soon as it was set free.
Perhaps in his heart Gideon Spilett, in whom the journalist sometimes
came to the surface, was not sorry to have the opportunity of sending
forth to take its chance an exciting article relating the adventures
of the settlers in Lincoln Island. What a success for the authorized
reporter of the New York Herald, and for the number which should contain
the article, if it should ever reach the address of its editor, the
Honorable James Bennett!
Gideon Spilett then wrote out a concise account, which was placed in a
strong waterproof bag, with an earnest request to whoever might find it
to forward it to the office of the New York Herald. This little bag was
fastened to the neck of the albatross, and not to its foot, for these
birds are in the habit of resting on the surface of the sea; then
liberty was given to this swift courier of the air, and it was not
without some emotion that the colonists watched it disappear in the
misty west.
“Where is he going to?” asked Pencroft.
“Towards New Zealand,” replied Herbert.
“A good voyage to you,” shouted the sailor, who himself did not expect
any great result from this mode of correspondence.
With the winter, work had been resumed in the interior of Granite House,
mending clothes and different occupations, among others making the sails
for their vessel, which were cut from the inexhaustible balloon-case.
During the month of July the cold was intense, but there was no lack of
either wood or coal. Cyrus Harding had established a second fireplace in
the dining-room, and there the long winter evenings were spent. Talking
while they worked, reading when the hands remained idle, the time passed
with profit to all.
It was real enjoyment to the settlers when in their room, well lighted
with candles, well warmed with coal, after a good dinner, elderberry
coffee smoking in the cups, the pipes giving forth an odoriferous smoke,
they could hear the storm howling without. Their comfort would have been
complete, if complete comfort could ever exist for those who are far
from their fellow-creatures, and without any means of communication with
them. They often talked of their country, of the friends whom they had
left, of the grandeur of the American Republic, whose influence could
not but increase; and Cyrus Harding, who had been much mixed up with the
affairs of the Union, greatly interested his auditors by his recitals,
his views, and his prognostics.
It chanced one day that Spilett was led to say--
“But now, my dear Cyrus, all this industrial and commercial movement
to which you predict a continual advance, does it not run the danger of
being sooner or later completely stopped?”
“Stopped! And by what?”
“By the want of coal, which may justly be called the most precious of
minerals.”
“Yes, the most precious indeed,” replied the engineer; “and it would
seem that nature wished to prove that it was so by making the diamond,
which is simply pure carbon crystallized.”
“You don’t mean to say, captain,” interrupted Pencroft, “that we burn
diamonds in our stoves in the shape of coal?”
“No, my friend,” replied Harding.
“However,” resumed Gideon Spilett, “you do not deny that some day the
coal will be entirely consumed?”
“Oh! the veins of coal are still considerable, and the hundred
thousand miners who annually extract from them a hundred millions of
hundredweights have not nearly exhausted them.”
“With the increasing consumption of coal,” replied Gideon Spilett, “it
can be foreseen that the hundred thousand workmen will soon become two
hundred thousand, and that the rate of extraction will be doubled.”
“Doubtless; but after the European mines, which will be soon worked more
thoroughly with new machines, the American and Australian mines will for
a long time yet provide for the consumption in trade.”
“For how long a time?” asked the reporter.
“For at least two hundred and fifty or three hundred years.”
“That is reassuring for us, but a bad look-out for our
great-grandchildren!” observed Pencroft.
“They will discover something else,” said Herbert.
“It is to be hoped so,” answered Spilett, “for without coal there would
be no machinery, and without machinery there would be no railways, no
steamers, no manufactories, nothing of that which is indispensable to
modern civilization!”
“But what will they find?” asked Pencroft. “Can you guess, captain?”
“Nearly, my friend.”
“And what will they burn instead of coal?”
“Water,” replied Harding.
“Water!” cried Pencroft, “water as fuel for steamers and engines! water
to heat water!”
“Yes, but water decomposed into its primitive elements,” replied Cyrus
Harding, “and decomposed doubtless, by electricity, which will then have
become a powerful and manageable force, for all great discoveries, by
some inexplicable laws, appear to agree and become complete at the same
time. Yes, my friends, I believe that water will one day be employed
as fuel, that hydrogen and oxygen which constitute it, used singly or
together, will furnish an inexhaustible source of heat and light, of
an intensity of which coal is not capable. Some day the coalrooms of
steamers and the tenders of locomotives will, instead of coal, be stored
with these two condensed gases, which will burn in the furnaces with
enormous calorific power. There is, therefore, nothing to fear. As long
as the earth is inhabited it will supply the wants of its inhabitants,
and there will be no want of either light or heat as long as the
productions of the vegetable, mineral or animal kingdoms do not fail us.
I believe, then, that when the deposits of coal are exhausted we shall
heat and warm ourselves with water. Water will be the coal of the
future.”
“I should like to see that,” observed the sailor.
“You were born too soon, Pencroft,” returned Neb, who only took part in
the discussion by these words.
However, it was not Neb’s speech which interrupted the conversation, but
Top’s barking, which broke out again with that strange intonation which
had before perplexed the engineer. At the same time Top began to run
round the mouth of the well, which opened at the extremity of the
interior passage.
“What can Top be barking in that way for?” asked Pencroft.
“And Jup be growling like that?” added Herbert.
In fact the orang, joining the dog, gave unequivocal signs of agitation,
and, singular to say, the two animals appeared more uneasy than angry.
“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.”
“That’s evident,” replied the sailor, “and there can be no other
explanation to give. Quiet there, Top!” added Pencroft, turning to the
dog, “and you, Jup, be off to your room!”
The ape and the dog were silent. Jup went off to bed, but Top remained
in the room, and continued to utter low growls at intervals during the
rest of the evening. There was no further talk on the subject, but the
incident, however, clouded the brow of the engineer.
During the remainder of the month of July there was alternate rain and
frost. The temperature was not so low as during the preceding winter,
and its maximum did not exceed eight degrees Fahrenheit. But although
this winter was less cold, it was more troubled by storms and squalls;
the sea besides often endangered the safety of the Chimneys. At times
it almost seemed as if an under-current raised these monstrous billows
which thundered against the wall of Granite House.
When the settlers, leaning from their windows, gazed on the huge watery
masses breaking beneath their eyes, they could not but admire the
magnificent spectacle of the ocean in its impotent fury. The waves
rebounded in dazzling foam, the beach entirely disapppearing under the
raging flood, and the cliff appearing to emerge from the sea itself, the
spray rising to a height of more than a hundred feet.
During these storms it was difficult and even dangerous to venture out,
owing to the frequently falling trees; however, the colonists never
allowed a week to pass without having paid a visit to the corral.
Happily, this enclosure, sheltered by the southeastern spur of Mount
Franklin, did not greatly suffer from the violence of the hurricanes,
which spared its trees, sheds, and palisades; but the poultry-yard on
Prospect Heights, being directly exposed to the gusts of wind from the
east, suffered considerable damage. The pigeon-house was twice unroofed
and the paling blown down. All this required to be remade more solidly
than before, for, as may be clearly seen, Lincoln Island was situated in
one of the most dangerous parts of the Pacific. It really appeared as if
it formed the central point of vast cyclones, which beat it perpetually
as the whip does the top, only here it was the top which was motionless
and the whip which moved. During the first week of the month of August
the weather became more moderate, and the atmosphere recovered the calm
which it appeared to have lost forever. With the calm the cold again
became intense, and the thermometer fell to eight degrees Fahrenheit,
below zero.
On the 3rd of August an excursion which had been talked of for several
days was made into the southeastern part of the island, towards Tadorn
Marsh. The hunters were tempted by the aquatic game which took up their
winter quarters there. Wild duck, snipe, teal and grebe abounded there,
and it was agreed that a day should be devoted to an expedition against
these birds.
Not only Gideon Spilett and Herbert, but Pencroft and Neb also took part
in this excursion. Cyrus Harding alone, alleging some work as an excuse,
did not join them, but remained at Granite House.
The hunters proceeded in the direction of Port Balloon, in order to
reach the marsh, after having promised to be back by the evening. Top
and Jup accompanied them. As soon as they had passed over the Mercy
Bridge, the engineer raised it and returned, intending to put into
execution a project for the performance of which he wished to be alone.
Now this project was to minutely explore the interior well, the mouth
of which was on a level with the passage of Granite House, and which
communicated with the sea, since it formerly supplied a way to the
waters of the lake.
Why did Top so often run round this opening? Why did he utter such
strange barks when a sort of uneasiness seemed to draw him towards this
well? Why did Jup join Top in a sort of common anxiety? Had this well
branches besides the communication with the sea? Did it spread towards
other parts of the island? This is what Cyrus Harding wished to know. He
had resolved, therefore, to attempt the exploration of the well during
the absence of his companions, and an opportunity for doing so had now
presented itself.
It was easy to descend to the bottom of the well by employing the rope
ladder which had not been used since the establishment of the lift. The
engineer drew the ladder to the hole, the diameter of which measured
nearly six feet, and allowed it to unroll itself after having securely
fastened its upper extremity. Then, having lighted a lantern, taken a
revolver, and placed a cutlass in his belt, he began the descent.
The sides were everywhere entire; but points of rock jutted out here and
there, and by means of these points it would have been quite possible
for an active creature to climb to the mouth of the well.
The engineer remarked this; but although he carefully examined these
points by the light of his lantern, he could find no impression, no
fracture which could give any reason to suppose that they had either
recently or at any former time been used as a staircase. Cyrus Harding
descended deeper, throwing the light of his lantern on all sides.
He saw nothing suspicious.
When the engineer had reached the last rounds he came upon the water,
which was then perfectly calm. Neither at its level nor in any other
part of the well, did any passage open, which could lead to the interior
of the cliff. The wall which Harding struck with the hilt of his cutlass
sounded solid. It was compact granite, through which no living being
could force a way. To arrive at the bottom of the well and then climb
up to its mouth it was necessary to pass through the channel under the
rocky subsoil of the beach, which placed it in communication with the
sea, and this was only possible for marine animals. As to the question
of knowing where this channel ended, at what point of the shore, and at
what depth beneath the water, it could not be answered.
Then Cyrus Harding, having ended his survey, re-ascended, drew up the
ladder, covered the mouth of the well, and returned thoughtfully to the
diningroom, saying to himself,--
“I have seen nothing, and yet there is something there!”
Chapter 12
In the evening the hunters returned, having enjoyed good sport, and
being literally loaded with game; indeed, they had as much as four men
could possibly carry. Top wore a necklace of teal and Jup wreaths of
snipe round his body.
“Here, master,” cried Neb; “here’s something to employ our time!
Preserved and made into pies we shall have a welcome store! But I must
have some one to help me. I count on you, Pencroft.”
“No, Neb,” replied the sailor; “I have the rigging of the vessel to
finish and to look after, and you will have to do without me.”
“And you, Mr. Herbert?”
“I must go to the corral to-morrow, Neb,” replied the lad.
“It will be you then, Mr. Spilett, who will help me?”
“To oblige you, Neb, I will,” replied the reporter; “but I warn you that
if you disclose your recipes to me, I shall publish them.”
“Whenever you like, Mr. Spilett,” replied Neb; “whenever you like.”
And so the next day Gideon Spilett became Neb’s assistant and was
installed in his culinary laboratory. The engineer had previously made
known to him the result of the exploration which he had made the day
before, and on this point the reporter shared Harding’s opinion, that
although he had found nothing, a secret still remained to be discovered!
The frost continued for another week, and the settlers did not leave
Granite House unless to look after the poultry-yard. The dwelling
was filled with appetizing odors, which were emitted from the learned
manipulation of Neb and the reporter. But all the results of the chase
were not made into preserved provisions; and as the game kept perfectly
in the intense cold, wild duck and other fowl were eaten fresh, and
declared superior to all other aquatic birds in the known world.
During this week, Pencroft, aided by Herbert, who handled the
sailmaker’s needle with much skill, worked with such energy that the
sails of the vessel were finished. There was no want of cordage. Thanks
to the rigging which had been discovered with the case of the balloon,
the ropes and cables from the net were all of good quality, and the
sailor turned them all to account. To the sails were attached strong
bolt ropes, and there still remained enough from which to make the
halyards, shrouds, and sheets, etc. The blocks were manufactured by
Cyrus Harding under Pencroft’s directions by means of the turning lathe.
It therefore happened that the rigging was entirely prepared before the
vessel was finished. Pencroft also manufactured a flag, that flag so
dear to every true American, containing the stars and stripes of their
glorious Union. The colors for it were supplied from certain plants
used in dyeing, and which were very abundant in the island; only to the
thirty-seven stars, representing the thirty-seven States of the Union,
which shine on the American flag, the sailor added a thirty-eighth, the
star of “the State of Lincoln,” for he considered his island as already
united to the great republic. “And,” said he, “it is so already in
heart, if not in deed!”
In the meantime, the flag was hoisted at the central window of Granite
House, and the settlers saluted it with three cheers.
The cold season was now almost at an end, and it appeared as if this
second winter was to pass without any unusual occurrence, when on the
night of the 11th of August, the plateau of Prospect Heights was menaced
with complete destruction.
After a busy day the colonists were sleeping soundly, when towards four
o’clock in the morning they were suddenly awakened by Top’s barking.
The dog was not this time barking near the mouth of the well, but at
the threshold of the door, at which he was scratching as if he wished to
burst it open. Jup was also uttering piercing cries.
“Hello, Top!” cried Neb, who was the first awake. But the dog continued
to bark more furiously than ever.
“What’s the matter now?” asked Harding.
And all dressing in haste rushed to the windows, which they opened.
Beneath their eyes was spread a sheet of snow which looked gray in the
dim light. The settlers could see nothing, but they heard a singular
yelping noise away in the darkness. It was evident that the beach had
been invaded by a number of animals which could not be seen.
“What are they?” cried Pencroft.
“Wolves, jaguars, or apes?” replied Neb.
“They have nearly reached the plateau,” said the reporter.
“And our poultry-yard,” exclaimed Herbert, “and our garden!”
“Where can they have crossed?” asked Pencroft.
“They must have crossed the bridge on the shore,” replied the engineer,
“which one of us must have forgotten to close.”
“True,” said Spilett, “I remember having left it open.”
“A fine job you have made of it, Mr. Spilett,” cried the sailor.
“What is done cannot be undone,” replied Cyrus Harding. “We must consult
what it will now be best to do.”
Such were the questions and answers which were rapidly exchanged between
Harding and his companions. It was certain that the bridge had been
crossed, that the shore had been invaded by animals, and that whatever
they might be they could by ascending the left bank of the Mercy reach
Prospect Heights. They must therefore be advanced against quickly and
fought with if necessary.
“But what are these beasts?” was asked a second time, as the yelpings
were again heard more loudly than before. These yelps made Herbert
start, and he remembered having heard them before during his first visit
to the sources of the Red Creek.
“They are colpeo foxes!” he exclaimed.
“Forward!” shouted the sailor.
And all arming themselves with hatchets, carbines, and revolvers, threw
themselves into the lift and soon set foot on the shore.
Colpeos are dangerous animals when in great numbers and irritated by
hunger, nevertheless the colonists did not hesitate to throw themselves
into the midst of the troop, and their first shots vividly lighting up
the darkness made their assailants draw back.
The chief thing was to hinder these plunderers from reaching the
plateau, for the garden and the poultry-yard would then have been at
their mercy, and immense, perhaps irreparable mischief, would inevitably
be the result, especially with regard to the corn-field. But as the
invasion of the plateau could only be made by the left bank of the
Mercy, it was sufficient to oppose the colpeos on the narrow bank
between the river and the cliff of granite.
This was plain to all, and, by Cyrus Harding’s orders, they reached the
spot indicated by him, while the colpeos rushed fiercely through
the gloom. Harding, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, Pencroft and Neb posted
themselves in impregnable line. Top, his formidable jaws open, preceded
the colonists, and he was followed by Jup, armed with a knotty cudgel,
which he brandished like a club.
The night was extremely dark, it was only by the flashes from the
revolvers as each person fired that they could see their assailants, who
were at least a hundred in number, and whose eyes were glowing like hot
coals.
“They must not pass!” shouted Pencroft.
“They shall not pass!” returned the engineer.
But if they did not pass it was not for want of having attempted it.
Those in the rear pushed on the foremost assailants, and it was an
incessant struggle with revolvers and hatchets. Several colpeos already
lay dead on the ground, but their number did not appear to diminish,
and it might have been supposed that reinforcements were continually
arriving over the bridge.
The colonists were soon obliged to fight at close quarters, not without
receiving some wounds, though happily very slight ones. Herbert had,
with a shot from his revolver, rescued Neb, on whose back a colpeo had
sprung like a tiger cat. Top fought with actual fury, flying at the
throats of the foxes and strangling them instantaneously. Jup wielded
his weapon valiantly, and it was in vain that they endeavored to keep
him in the rear. Endowed doubtless with sight which enabled him to
pierce the obscurity, he was always in the thick of the fight uttering
from time to time--a sharp hissing sound, which was with him the sign of
great rejoicing.
At one moment he advanced so far, that by the light from a revolver
he was seen surrounded by five or six large colpeos, with whom he was
coping with great coolness.
However, the struggle was ended at last, and victory was on the side
of the settlers, but not until they had fought for two long hours! The
first signs of the approach of day doubtless determined the retreat of
their assailants, who scampered away towards the North, passing over the
bridge, which Neb ran immediately to raise. When day had sufficiently
lighted up the field of battle, the settlers counted as many as fifty
dead bodies scattered about on the shore.
“And Jup!” cried Pencroft; “where is Jup?” Jup had disappeared. His
friend Neb called him, and for the first time Jup did not reply to his
friend’s call.
Everyone set out in search of Jup, trembling lest he should be found
among the slain; they cleared the place of the bodies which stained the
snow with their blood. Jup was found in the midst of a heap of colpeos
whose broken jaws and crushed bodies showed that they had to do with the
terrible club of the intrepid animal.
Poor Jup still held in his hand the stump of his broken cudgel, but
deprived of his weapon he had been overpowered by numbers, and his chest
was covered with severe wounds.
“He is living,” cried Neb, who was bending over him.
“And we will save him,” replied the sailor. “We will nurse him as if he
was one of ourselves.”
It appeared as if Jup understood, for he leaned his head on Pencroft’s
shoulder as if to thank him. The sailor was wounded himself, but his
wound was insignificant, as were those of his companions; for thanks to
their firearms they had been almost always able to keep their assailants
at a distance. It was therefore only the orang whose condition was
serious.
Jup, carried by Neb and Pencroft, was placed in the lift, and only a
slight moan now and then escaped his lips. He was gently drawn up to
Granite House. There he was laid on a mattress taken from one of the
beds, and his wounds were bathed with the greatest care. It did not
appear that any vital part had been reached, but Jup was very weak from
loss of blood, and a high fever soon set in after his wounds had been
dressed. He was laid down, strict diet was imposed, “just like a real
person,” as Neb said, and they made him swallow several cups of
a cooling drink, for which the ingredients were supplied from the
vegetable medicine chest of Granite House. Jup was at first restless,
but his breathing gradually became more regular, and he was left
sleeping quietly. From time to time Top, walking on tip-toe, as one
might say, came to visit his friend, and seemed to approve of all the
care that had been taken of him. One of Jup’s hands hung over the side
of his bed, and Top licked it with a sympathizing air.
They employed the day in interring the dead, who were dragged to the
forest of the Far West, and there buried deep.
This attack, which might have had such serious consequences, was a
lesson to the settlers, who from this time never went to bed until one
of their number had made sure that all the bridges were raised, and that
no invasion was possible.
However, Jup, after having given them serious anxiety for several
days, began to recover. His constitution brought him through, the fever
gradually subsided, and Gideon Spilett, who was a bit of a doctor,
pronounced him quite out of danger. On the 16th of August, Jup began to
eat. Neb made him nice little sweet dishes, which the invalid devoured
with great relish, for if he had a pet failing it was that of being
somewhat of a gourmand, and Neb had never done anything to cure him of
this fault.
“What would you have?” said he to Gideon Spilett, who sometimes
expostulated with him for spoiling the ape. “Poor Jup has no other
pleasure than that of the palate, and I am only too glad to be able to
reward his services in this way!”
Ten days after taking to his bed, on the 21st of August, Master Jup
arose. His wounds were healed, and it was evident that he would not
be long in regaining his usual strength and agility. Like all
convalescents, he was tremendously hungry, and the reporter allowed him
to eat as much as he liked, for he trusted to that instinct, which
is too often wanting in reasoning beings, to keep the orang from any
excess. Neb was delighted to see his pupil’s appetite returning.
“Eat away, my Jup,” said he, “and don’t spare anything; you have shed
your blood for us, and it is the least I can do to make you strong
again!”
On the 25th of August Neb’s voice was heard calling to his companions.
“Captain, Mr. Spilett, Mr. Herbert, Pencroft, come! come!”
The colonists, who were together in the dining-room, rose at Neb’s call,
who was then in Jup’s room.
“What’s the matter?” asked the reporter.
“Look,” replied Neb, with a shout of laughter. And what did they see?
Master Jup smoking calmly and seriously, sitting crosslegged like a Turk
at the entrance to Granite House!
“My pipe,” cried Pencroft. “He has taken my pipe! Hello, my honest Jup,
I make you a present of it! Smoke away, old boy, smoke away!”
And Jup gravely puffed out clouds of smoke which seemed to give him
great satisfaction. Harding did not appear to be much astonished at this
incident, and he cited several examples of tame apes, to whom the use of
tobacco had become quite familiar.
But from this day Master Jup had a pipe of his own, the sailor’s
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