The soil they walked upon was choked with the pulverised matter fallen
from the cloud. No quadruped appeared in the woods. Even the birds had
fled. Sometimes a passing breeze raised the covering of ashes, and the
two colonists, enveloped in a whirlwind of dust, lost sight of each
other. They were then careful to cover their eyes and mouths with
handkerchiefs, for they ran the risk of being blinded and suffocated.
It was impossible for Cyrus Harding and Ayrton, with these impediments,
to make rapid progress. Moreover, the atmosphere was close, as if the
oxygen had been partly burnt up, and had become unfit for respiration.
At every hundred paces they were obliged to stop to take breath. It was
therefore past ten o'clock when the engineer and his companion reached
the crest of the enormous mass of rocks of basalt and porphyry which
composed the north-west coast of the island.
Ayrton and Cyrus Harding commenced the descent of this abrupt declivity,
following almost step for step the difficult path which, during that
stormy night, had led them to Dakkar Grotto. In open day the descent
was less perilous, and, besides, the bed of ashes which covered the
polished surface of the rock enabled them to make their footing more
secure.
The ridge at the end of the shore, about forty feet in height, was soon
reached. Cyrus Harding recollected that this elevation gradually sloped
towards the level of the sea. Although the tide was at present low, no
beach could be seen, and the waves, thickened by the volcanic dust, beat
upon the basaltic rocks.
Cyrus Harding and Ayrton found without difficulty the entrance to Dakkar
Grotto, and paused for a moment at the last rock before it.
"The iron boat should be there," said the engineer.
"It is here, Captain Harding," replied Ayrton, drawing towards him the
fragile craft, which was protected by the arch of a vault.
"On board, Ayrton!"
The two colonists stepped into the boat. A slight undulation of the
waves carried it farther under the low arch of the crypt, and there
Ayrton, with the aid of flint and steel, lighted the lamp. He then took
the oars, and the lamp having been placed in the bow of the boat, so
that its rays fell before them, Cyrus Harding took the helm and steered
through the shades of the grotto.
The -Nautilus- was there no longer to illuminate the cavern with its
electric light. Possibly it might not yet be extinguished, but no ray
escaped from the depths of the abyss in which reposed all that was
mortal of Captain Nemo.
The light afforded by the lamp, although feeble, nevertheless enabled
the engineer to advance slowly, following the wall of the cavern. A
deathlike silence reigned under the vaulted roof, or at least in the
anterior portion, for soon Cyrus Harding distinctly heard the rumbling
which proceeded from the bowels of the mountain.
"That comes from the volcano," he said.
Besides these sounds, the presence of chemical combinations was soon
betrayed by their powerful odour, and the engineer and his companion
were almost suffocated by sulphureous vapours.
"This is what Captain Nemo feared," murmured Cyrus Harding, changing
countenance. "We must go to the end, notwithstanding."
"Forward!" replied Ayrton, bending to his oars and directing the boat
towards the head of the cavern.
Twenty-five minutes after entering the mouth of the grotto the boat
reached the extreme end.
Cyrus Harding then, standing up, cast the light of the lamp upon the
walls of the cavern which separated it from the central shaft of the
volcano. What was the thickness of this wall? It might be ten feet or
a hundred feet--it was impossible to say. But the subterranean sounds
were too perceptible to allow of the supposition that it was of any
great thickness.
The engineer, after having explored the wall at a certain height
horizontally, fastened the lamp to the end of an oar, and again surveyed
the basaltic wall at a greater elevation.
There, through scarcely visible clefts and joinings, escaped a pungent
vapour, which infected the atmosphere of the cavern. The wall was
broken by large cracks, some of which extended to within two or three
feet of the water's edge.
Cyrus Harding thought for a brief space. Then he said in a low voice--
"Yes! the captain was right! The danger lies there, and a terrible
danger!"
Ayrton said not a word, but, upon a sign from Cyrus Harding, resumed the
oars, and half an hour later the engineer and he reached the entrance of
Dakkar Grotto.
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
CYRUS HARDING GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF HIS EXPLORATION--THE CONSTRUCTION OF
THE SHIP PUSHED FORWARD--A LAST VISIT TO THE CORRAL--THE BATTLE BETWEEN
FIRE AND WATER--ALL THAT REMAINS OF THE ISLAND--IT IS DECIDED TO LAUNCH
THE VESSEL--THE NIGHT OF THE 8TH OF MARCH.
The next day, the 8th of January, after a day and night passed at the
corral, where they left all in order, Cyrus Harding and Ayrton arrived
at Granite House.
The engineer immediately called his companions together, and informed
them of the imminent danger which threatened Lincoln Island, and from
which no human power could deliver them.
"My friends," he said, and his voice betrayed the depth of his emotion,
"our island is not among those which will endure while this earth
endures. It is doomed to more or less speedy destruction, the cause of
which it bears within itself, and from which nothing can save it."
The colonists looked at each other, then at the engineer. They did not
clearly comprehend him.
"Explain yourself, Cyrus!" said Gideon Spilett.
"I will do so," replied Cyrus Harding, "or rather I will simply afford
you the explanation which, during our few minutes of private
conversation, was given me by Captain Nemo."
"Captain Nemo!" exclaimed the colonists.
"Yes, and it was the last service he desired to render us before his
death!"
"The last service!" exclaimed Pencroft, "the last service! You will see
that though he is dead he will render us others yet!"
"But what did the captain say?" inquired the reporter.
"I will tell you, my friends," said the engineer. "Lincoln Island does
not resemble the other islands of the Pacific, and a fact of which
Captain Nemo has made me cognisant must sooner or later bring about the
subversion of its foundation."
"Nonsense! Lincoln Island, it can't be!" cried Pencroft, who, in spite
of the respect he felt for Cyrus Harding, could not prevent a gesture of
incredulity.
"Listen, Pencroft," resumed the engineer, "I will tell you what Captain
Nemo communicated to me, and which I myself confirmed yesterday, during
the exploration of Dakkar Grotto. This cavern stretches under the
island as far as the volcano, and is only separated from its central
shaft by the wall which terminates it. Now, this wall is seamed with
fissures and clefts which already allow the sulphureous gases generated
in the interior of the volcano to escape."
"Well?" said Pencroft, his brow suddenly contracting.
"Well, then, I saw that these fissures widen under the internal pressure
from within, that the wall of basalt is gradually giving way, and that
after a longer or shorter period it will afford a passage to the waters
of the lake which fill the cavern."
"Good!" replied Pencroft, with an attempt at pleasantry. "The sea will
extinguish the volcano, and there will be an end of the matter!"
"Not so!" said Cyrus Harding, "should a day arrive when the sea, rushing
through the wall of the cavern, penetrates by the central shaft into the
interior of the island to the boiling lava, Lincoln Island will that day
be blown into the air--just as would happen to the island of Sicily were
the Mediterranean to precipitate itself into Mount Etna."
The colonists made no answer to these significant words of the engineer.
They now understood the danger by which they were menaced.
It may be added that Cyrus Harding had in no way exaggerated the danger
to be apprehended. Many persons have formed an idea that it would be
possible to extinguish volcanoes, which are almost always situated on
the shores of a sea or lake, by opening a passage for the admission of
the water. But they are not aware that this would be to incur the risk
of blowing up a portion of the globe, like a boiler whose steam is
suddenly expanded by intense heat. The water, rushing into a cavity
whose temperature might be estimated at thousands of degrees, would be
converted into steam with a sudden energy which no enclosure could
resist.
It was not therefore doubtful that the island, menaced by a frightful
and approaching convulsion, would endure only so long as the wall of
Dakkar Grotto itself should endure. It was not even a question of
months, nor of weeks; but of days, it might be of hours.
The first sentiment which the colonists felt was that of profound
sorrow. They thought not so much of the peril which menaced themselves
personally, but of the destruction of the island which had sheltered
them, which they had cultivated, which they loved so well, and had hoped
to render so flourishing. So much effort ineffectually expended, so
much labour lost.
Pencroft could not prevent a large tear from rolling down his cheek, nor
did he attempt to conceal it.
Some further conversation now took place. The chances yet in favour of
the colonists were discussed; but finally it was agreed that there was
not an hour to be lost, that the building and fitting of the vessel
should be pushed forward with their utmost energy, and that this was the
sole chance of safety for the inhabitants of Lincoln Island.
All hands, therefore, set to work on the vessel. What could it now
avail to sow, to reap, to hunt, to increase the stores of Granite House?
The contents of the store-house and outbuildings contained more than
sufficient to provide the ship for a voyage, however long might be its
duration. But it was imperative that the ship should be ready to
receive them before the inevitable catastrophe should arrive.
Their labours were now carried on with feverish ardour. By the 23rd of
January the vessel was half-decked over. Up to this time no change had
taken place in the summit of the volcano. Vapour and smoke mingled with
flames and incandescent stones were thrown up from the crater. But
during the night of the 23rd, in consequence of the lava attaining the
level of the first stratum of the volcano, the hat-shaped cone which
formed over the latter disappeared. A frightful sound was heard. The
colonists at first thought the island was rent asunder, and rushed out
of Granite House.
This occurred about two o'clock in the morning.
The sky appeared on fire. The superior cone, a mass of rock a thousand
feet in height, and weighing thousands of millions of pounds, had been
thrown down upon the island, making it tremble to its foundation.
Fortunately, this cone inclined to the north, and had fallen upon the
plain of sand and tufa stretching between the volcano and the sea. The
aperture of the crater being thus enlarged projected towards the sky a
glare so intense that by the simple effect of reflection the atmosphere
appeared red-hot. At the same time a torrent of lava, bursting from the
new summit, poured out in long cascades, like water escaping from a vase
too full, and a thousand tongues of fire crept over the sides of the
volcano.
"The corral! the corral!" exclaimed Ayrton.
It was, in fact, towards the corral that the lava was rushing, as the
new crater faced the east, and consequently the fertile portions of the
island, the springs of Red Creek and Jacamar Wood, were menaced with
instant destruction.
At Ayrton's cry the colonists rushed to the onagas' stables. The cart
was at once harnessed. All were possessed by the same thought--to
hasten to the corral and set at liberty the animals it enclosed.
Before three in the morning they arrived at the corral. The cries of
the terrified musmons and goats indicated the alarm which possessed
them. Already a torrent of burning matter and liquefied minerals fell
from the side of the mountain upon the meadows as far as the side of the
palisade. The gate was burst open by Ayrton, and the animals,
bewildered with terror, fled in all directions.
An hour afterwards the boiling lava filled the corral, converting into
vapour the water of the little rivulet which ran through it, burning up
the house like dry grass, and leaving not even a post of the palisade to
mark the spot where the corral once stood.
To contend against this disaster would have been folly--nay, madness.
In presence of Nature's grand convulsions man is powerless.
It was now daylight--the 24th of January. Cyrus Harding and his
companions, before returning to Granite House, desired to ascertain the
probable direction this inundation of lava was about to take. The soil
sloped gradually from Mount Franklin to the east coast, and it was to be
feared that, in spite of the thick Jacamar Wood, the torrent would reach
the plateau of Prospect Heights.
"The lake will cover us," said Gideon Spilett.
"I hope so!" was Cyrus Harding's only reply.
The colonists were desirous of reaching the plain upon which the
superior cone of Mount Franklin had fallen, but the lava arrested their
progress. It had followed, on one side, the valley of Red Creek, and on
the other that of Falls River, evaporating those watercourses in its
passage. There was no possibility of crossing the torrent of lava; on
the contrary, the colonists were obliged to retreat before it. The
volcano, without its crown, was no longer recognisable, terminated as it
was by a sort of flat table which replaced the ancient crater. From two
openings in its southern and eastern sides an unceasing flow of lava
poured forth, thus forming two distinct streams. Above the new crater a
cloud of smoke and ashes, mingled with those of the atmosphere, massed
over the island. Loud peals of thunder broke, and could scarcely be
distinguished from the rumblings of the mountain, whose mouth vomited
forth ignited rocks, which, hurled to more than a thousand feet, burst
in the air like shells. Flashes of lightning rivalled in intensity the
volcano's eruption.
Towards seven in the morning the position was no longer tenable by the
colonists, who accordingly took shelter in the borders of Jacamar Wood.
Not only did the projectiles begin to rain around them, but the lava,
overflowing the bed of Red Creek, threatened to cut off the road to the
corral. The nearest rows of trees caught fire, and their sap, suddenly
transformed into vapour, caused them to explode with loud reports,
whilst others, less moist, remained unhurt in the midst of the
inundation.
The colonists had again taken the road to the corral. They proceeded
but slowly, frequently looking back; but, in consequence of the
inclination of the soil, the lava gained rapidly in the east, and as its
lower waves became solidified, others at boiling heat covered them
immediately.
Meanwhile, the principal stream of Red Creek valley became more and more
menacing. All this portion of the forest was on fire, and enormous
wreaths of smoke rolled over the trees, whose trunks were already
consumed by the lava. The colonists halted near the lake, about half a
mile from the mouth of Red Creek. A question of life or death was now
to be decided.
Cyrus Harding, accustomed to the consideration of important crises, and
aware that he was addressing men capable of hearing the truth, whatever
it might be, then said--
"Either the lake will arrest the progress of the lava, and a part of the
island will be preserved from utter destruction, or the stream will
overrun the forests of the Far West, and not a tree or plant will remain
on the surface of the soil. We shall have no prospect but that of
starvation upon these barren rocks--a death which will probably be
anticipated by the explosion of the island."
"In that case," replied Pencroft, folding his arms and stamping his
foot, "what's the use of working any longer on the vessel?"
"Pencroft," answered Cyrus Harding, "we must do our duty to the last!"
At this instant the river of lava, after having broken a passage through
the noble trees it devoured in its course, reached the borders of the
lake. At this point there was an elevation of the soil which, had it
been greater, might have sufficed to arrest the torrent.
"To work!" cried Cyrus Harding.
The engineer's thought was at once understood. It might be possible to
dam, as it were, the torrent, and thus compel it to pour itself into the
lake.
The colonists hastened to the dockyard. They returned with shovels,
picks, axes, and by means of banking the earth with the aid of fallen
trees they succeeded in a few hours in raising an embankment three feet
high and some hundreds of paces in length. It seemed to them, when they
had finished, as if they had scarcely been working more than a few
minutes.
It was not a moment too soon. The liquefied substances soon after
reached the bottom of the barrier. The stream of lava swelled like a
river about to overflow its banks, and threatened to demolish the sole
obstacle which could prevent it from overrunning the whole Far West.
But the dam held firm, and after a moment of terrible suspense the
torrent precipitated itself into Grant Lake from a height of twenty
feet.
The colonists, without moving or uttering a word, breathlessly regarded
this strife of the two elements.
What a spectacle was this conflict between water and fire! What pen
could describe the marvellous horror of this scene--what pencil could
depict it? The water hissed as it evaporated by contact with the
boiling lava. The vapour whirled in the air to an immeasurable height,
as if the valves of an immense boiler had been suddenly opened. But,
however considerable might be the volume of water contained in the lake,
it must eventually be absorbed, because it was not replenished, whilst
the stream of lava, fed from an inexhaustible source, rolled on without
ceasing new waves of incandescent matter.
The first waves of lava which fell in the lake immediately solidified,
and accumulated so as speedily to emerge from it. Upon their surface
fell other waves, which in their turn became stone, but a step nearer
the centre of the lake. In this manner was formed a pier which
threatened to gradually fill up the lake, which could not overflow, the
water displaced by the lava being evaporated. The hissing of the water
rent the air with a deafening sound, and the vapour, blown by the wind,
fell in rain upon the sea. The pier became longer and longer, and the
blocks of lava piled themselves one on another. Where formerly
stretched the calm waters of the lake now appeared an enormous mass of
smoking rocks, as if an upheaving of the soil had formed immense shoals.
Imagine the waters of the lake aroused by a hurricane, then suddenly
solidified by an intense frost, and some conception may be formed of the
aspect of the lake three hours after the irruption of this irresistible
torrent of lava.
This time water would be vanquished by fire.
Nevertheless it was a fortunate circumstance for the colonists that the
effusion of lava should have been in the direction of Lake Grant. They
had before them some days' respite. The plateau of Prospect Heights,
Granite House, and the dockyard were for the moment preserved. And
these few days it was necessary to employ them in planking, carefully
caulking the vessel, and launching her. The colonists would then take
refuge on board the vessel, content to rig her after she should be
afloat on the waters. With the danger of an explosion which threatened
to destroy the island there could be no security on shore. The walls of
Granite House, once so sure a retreat, might at any moment fall in upon
them.
During the six following days, from the 25th to the 30th of January, the
colonists accomplished as much of the construction of their vessel as
twenty men could have done. They hardly allowed themselves a moment's
repose, and the glare of the flames which shot from the crater enabled
them to work night and day. The flow of lava continued, but perhaps
less abundantly. This was fortunate, for Lake Grant was almost entirely
choked up, and if more lava should accumulate it would inevitably spread
over the plateau of Prospect Heights, and thence upon the beach.
But if the island was thus partially protected on this side, it was not
so with the western part.
In fact, the second stream of lava, which had followed the valley of
Falls River, a valley of great extent, the land on both sides of the
creek being flat, met with no obstacle. The burning liquid had then
spread through the forest of the Far West. At this period of the year,
when the trees were dried up by a tropical heat, the forest caught fire
instantaneously, in such a manner that the conflagration extended itself
both by the trunks of the trees and by their higher branches, whose
interlacement favoured its progress. It even appeared that the current
of flame spread more rapidly among the summits of the trees than the
current of lava at their bases.
Thus it happened that the wild animals, jaguars, wild boars, cabybaras,
koulas, and game of every kind, mad with terror, had fled to the banks
of the Mercy and to the Tadorn Marsh, beyond the road to Port Balloon.
But the colonists were too much occupied with their task to pay any
attention to even the most formidable of these animals. They had
abandoned Granite House, and would not even take shelter at the
Chimneys, but encamped under a tent, near the mouth of the Mercy.
Each day Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett ascended the plateau of
Prospect Heights. Sometimes Herbert accompanied them, but never
Pencroft, who could not bear to look upon the prospect of the island now
so utterly devastated.
It was, in truth, a heartrending spectacle. All the wooded part of the
island was now completely bare. One single clump of green trees raised
their heads at the extremity of Serpentine Peninsula. Here and there
were a few grotesque blackened and branchless stumps. The site of the
devastated forest was even more barren than Tadorn Marsh. The irruption
of the lava had been complete. Where formerly sprang up that charming
verdure, the soil was now nothing but a savage mass of volcanic tufa.
In the valleys of the Falls and Mercy rivers no drop of water now flowed
towards the sea, and should Lake Grant be entirely dried up, the
colonists would have no means of quenching their thirst. But,
fortunately, the lava had spared the southern corner of the lake,
containing all that remained of the drinkable water of the island.
Towards the north-west stood out the rugged and well-defined outlines of
the sides of the volcano, like a gigantic claw hovering over the island.
What a sad and fearful sight, and how painful to the colonists, who,
from a fertile domain covered with forests, irrigated by watercourses,
and enriched by the produce of their toils, found themselves, as it
were, transported to a desolate rock, upon which, but for their reserves
of provisions, they could not even gather the means of subsistence!
"It is enough to break one's heart!" said Gideon Spilett, one day.
"Yes, Spilett," answered the engineer. "May God grant us the time to
complete this vessel, now our sole refuge!"
"Do not you think, Cyrus, that the violence of the eruption has somewhat
lessened? The volcano still vomits forth lava, but somewhat less
abundantly, if I mistake not."
"It matters little," answered Cyrus Harding. "The fire is still burning
in the interior of the mountain, and the sea may break in at any moment.
We are in the condition of passengers whose ship is devoured by a
conflagration which they cannot extinguish, and who know that sooner or
later the flames must reach the powder-magazine. To work, Spilett, to
work, and let us not lose an hour!"
During eight days more, that is to say until the 7th of February, the
lava continued to flow, but the eruption was confined within the
previous limits. Cyrus Harding feared above all lest the liquefied
matter should overflow the shore, for in that event the dockyard could
not escape. Moreover, about this time the colonists felt in the frame
of the island vibrations which alarmed them to the highest degree.
It was the 20th of February. Yet another month must elapse before the
vessel would be ready for sea. Would the island hold together till
then? The intention of Pencroft and Cyrus Harding was to launch the
vessel as soon as the hull should be complete. The deck, the
upper-works, the interior woodwork and the rigging, might be finished
afterwards, but the essential point was that the colonists should have
an assured refuge away from the island. Perhaps it might be even better
to conduct the vessel to Port Balloon, that is to say, as far as
possible from the centre of eruption, for at the mouth of the Mercy,
between the islet and the wall of granite, it would run the risk of
being crushed in the event of any convulsion. All the exertions of the
voyagers were therefore concentrated upon the completion of the hull.
Thus the 3rd of March arrived, and they might calculate upon launching
the vessel in ten days.
Hope revived in the hearts of the colonists, who had, in this fourth
year of their sojourn on Lincoln Island, suffered so many trials. Even
Pencroft lost in some measure the sombre taciturnity occasioned by the
devastation and ruin of his domain. His hopes, it is true, were
concentrated upon his vessel.
"We shall finish it," he said to the engineer, "we shall finish it,
captain, and it is time, for the season is advancing and the equinox
will soon be here. Well, if necessary, we must put in to Tabor Island
to spend the winter. But think of Tabor Island after Lincoln Island.
Ah, how unfortunate! Who could have believed it possible?"
"Let us get on," was the engineer's invariable reply.
And they worked away without losing a moment.
"Master," asked Neb, a few days later, "do you think all this could have
happened if Captain Nemo had been still alive?"
"Certainly, Neb," answered Cyrus Harding.
"I, for one, don't believe it!" whispered Pencroft to Neb.
"Nor I!" answered Neb seriously.
During the first week of March appearances again became menacing.
Thousands of threads like glass, formed of fluid lava, fell like rain
upon the island. The crater was again boiling with lava which
overflowed the back of the volcano. The torrent flowed along the
surface of the hardened tufa, and destroyed the few meagre skeletons of
trees which had withstood the first eruption. The stream flowing this
time towards the south-west shore of Lake Grant, stretched beyond Creek
Glycerine, and invaded the plateau of Prospect Heights. This last blow
to the work of the colonists was terrible. The mill, the buildings of
the inner court, the stables, were all destroyed. The affrighted
poultry fled in all directions. Top and Jup showed signs of the
greatest alarm, as if their instinct warned them of an impending
catastrophe. A large number of the animals of the island had perished
in the first eruption. Those which survived found no refuge but Tadorn
Marsh, save a few to which the plateau of Prospect Heights afforded an
asylum. But even this last retreat was now closed to them, and the
lava-torrent, flowing over the edge of the granite wall, began to pour
down upon the beach its cataracts of fire. The sublime horror of this
spectacle passed all description. During the night it could only be
compared to a Niagara of molten fluid, with its incandescent vapours
above and its boiling masses below.
The colonists were driven to their last entrenchment, and although the
upper seams of the vessel were not yet caulked, they decided to launch
her at once.
Pencroft and Ayrton therefore set about the necessary preparations for
the launch, which was to take place the morning of the next day, the 9th
of March.
But, during the night of the 8th an enormous column of vapour escaping
from the crater rose with frightful explosions to a height of more than
three thousand feet. The wall of Dakkar Grotto had evidently given way
under the pressure of the gases, and the sea, rushing through the
central shaft into the igneous gulf, was at once converted into vapour.
But the crater could not afford a sufficient outlet for this vapour. An
explosion, which might have been heard at a distance of a hundred miles,
shook the air. Fragments of mountains fell into the Pacific, and, in a
few minutes, the ocean rolled over the spot where Lincoln Island once
stood.
CHAPTER TWENTY.
AN ISOLATED ROCK IN THE PACIFIC--THE LAST REFUGE OF THE COLONISTS OF
LINCOLN ISLAND--DEATH THEIR ONLY PROSPECT--UNEXPECTED SUCCOUR--WHY AND
HOW IT ARRIVES--A LAST KINDNESS--AN ISLAND ON TERRA FIRMA--THE TOMB OF
CAPTAIN PRINCE DAKKAR NEMO.
An isolated rock, thirty feet in length, twenty in breadth, scarcely ten
from the water's edge, such was the only solid point which the waves of
the Pacific had not engulfed.
It was all that remained of the structure of Granite House! The wall
had fallen headlong and been then shattered to fragments, and a few of
the rocks of the large room were piled one above another to form this
point. All around had disappeared in the abyss; the inferior cone of
Mount Franklin, rent asunder by the explosion; the lava jaws of Shark
Gulf, the plateau of Prospect Heights, Safety Islet, the granite rocks
of Port Balloon, the basalts of Dakkar Grotto, the long Serpentine
Peninsula, so distant nevertheless from the centre of the eruption. All
that could now be seen of Lincoln Island was the narrow rock which now
served as a refuge to the six colonists and their dog Top.
The animals had also perished in the catastrophe; the birds, as well as
those representing the fauna of the island--all either crushed or
drowned, and the unfortunate Jup himself had, alas! found his death in
some crevice of the soil.
If Cyrus Harding, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, Pencroft, Neb, and Ayrton had
survived, it was because, assembled under their tent, they had been
hurled into the sea at the instant when the fragments of the island
rained down on every side.
When they reached the surface they could only perceive, at half a
cable's length, this mass of rocks, towards which they swam and on which
they found footing.
On this barren rock they had now existed for nine days. A few
provisions taken from the magazine of Granite House before the
catastrophe, a little fresh water from the rain which had fallen in a
hollow of the rock, was all that the unfortunate colonists possessed.
Their last hope, the vessel, had been shattered to pieces. They had no
means of quitting the reef; no fire, nor any means of obtaining it. It
seemed that they must inevitably perish.
This day, the 18th of March, there remained only provisions for two
days, although they limited their consumption to the bare necessaries of
life. All their science and intelligence could avail them nothing in
their present position. They were in the hand of God.
Cyrus Harding was calm, Gideon Spilett more nervous, and Pencroft, a
prey to sullen anger, walked to and fro on the rock. Herbert did not
for a moment quit the engineer's side as if demanding from him that
assistance he had no power to give. Neb and Ayrton were resigned to
their fate.
"Ah, what a misfortune! what a misfortune!" often repeated Pencroft.
"If we had but a walnut-shell to take us to Tabor Island! But we have
nothing, nothing!"
"Captain Nemo did right to die," said Neb.
During the five ensuing days Cyrus Harding and his unfortunate
companions husbanded their provisions with the most extreme care, eating
only what would prevent them from succumbing to starvation. Their
weakness was extreme. Herbert and Neb began to show symptoms of
delirium.
Under these circumstances was it possible for them to retain even the
shadow of a hope? No! What was their sole remaining chance? That a
vessel should appear in sight off the rock? But they knew only too well
from experience that no ships ever visited this part of the Pacific.
Could they calculate that, by a truly providential coincidence, the
Scotch yacht would arrive precisely at this time in search of Ayrton at
Tabor Island? It was scarcely probable; and, besides, supposing she
should come there, as the colonists had not been able to deposit a
notice pointing out Ayrton's change of abode, the commander of the
yacht, after having explored Tabor Island without result, would again
set sail and return to lower latitudes.
No! no hope of being saved could be retained, and a horrible death,
death from hunger and thirst, awaited them upon this rock.
Already they were stretched on the rock, inanimate, and no longer
conscious of what passed around them. Ayrton alone, by a supreme
effort, from time to time raised his head, and cast a despairing glance
over the desert ocean.
But on the morning of the 24th of March Ayrton's arms were extended
towards a point in the horizon; he raised himself, at first on his
knees, then upright, and his hand seemed to make a signal.
A sail was in sight off the rock. She was evidently not without an
object. The reef was the mark for which she was making in a direct
line, under all steam, and the unfortunate colonists might have made her
out some hours before if they had had the strength to watch the horizon.
"The -Duncan-!" murmured Ayrton--and fell back without sign of life.
When Cyrus Harding and his companions recovered consciousness, thanks to
the attention lavished upon them, they found themselves in the cabin of
a steamer, without being able to comprehend how they had escaped death.
A word from Ayrton explained everything.
"The -Duncan-!" he murmured.
"The -Duncan-!" exclaimed Cyrus Harding. And raising his hand to
Heaven, he said, "Oh! Almighty God! mercifully hast Thou preserved us!"
It was, in fact, the -Duncan-, Lord Glenarvan's yacht, now commanded by
Robert, son of Captain Grant, who had been despatched to Tabor Island to
find Ayrton, and bring him back to his native land after twelve years of
expiation.
The colonists were not only saved, but already on the way to their
native country.
"Captain Grant," asked Cyrus Harding, "who can have suggested to you the
idea, after having left Tabor Island, where you did not find Ayrton, of
coming a hundred miles farther north-east?"
"Captain Harding," replied Robert Grant, "it was in order to find, not
only Ayrton, but yourself and your companions."
"My companions and myself?"
"Doubtless, at Lincoln Island."
"At Lincoln Island!" exclaimed in a breath Gideon Spilett, Herbert, Neb,
and Pencroft, in the highest degree astonished.
"How could you be aware of the existence of Lincoln Island?" inquired
Cyrus Harding, "it is not even named in the charts."
"I knew of it from a document left by you on Tabor Island," answered
Robert Grant.
"A document?" cried Gideon Spilett.
"Without doubt, and here it is," answered Robert Grant, producing a
paper which indicated the longitude and latitude of Lincoln Island, "the
present residence of Ayrton and five American colonists."
"It is Captain Nemo!" cried Cyrus Harding, after having read the notice,
and recognised that the handwriting was similar to that of the paper
found at the corral.
"Ah!" said Pencroft, "it was then he who took our -Bonadventure- and
hazarded himself alone to go to Tabor Island!"
"In order to leave this notice," added Herbert.
"I was then right in saying," exclaimed the sailor, "that even after his
death the captain would render us a last service."
"My friends," said Cyrus Harding, in a voice of the profoundest emotion,
"may the God of mercy have had pity on the soul of Captain Nemo, our
benefactor!"
The colonists uncovered themselves at these last words of Cyrus Harding,
and murmured the name of Captain Nemo.
Then Ayrton, approaching the engineer, said simply, "Where should this
coffer be deposited?"
It was the coffer which Ayrton had saved at the risk of his life, at the
very instant that the island had been engulfed, and which he now
faithfully handed to the engineer.
"Ayrton! Ayrton!" said Cyrus Harding, deeply touched. Then, addressing
Robert Grant, "Sir," he added, "you left behind you a criminal; you find
in his place a man who has become honest by penitence, and whose hand I
am proud to clasp in mine."
Robert Grant was now made acquainted with the strange history of Captain
Nemo and the colonists of Lincoln Island. Then, observations being
taken of what remained of this shoal, which must henceforward figure on
the charts of the Pacific, the order was given to make all sail.
A few weeks afterwards the colonists landed in America, and found their
country once more at peace after the terrible conflict in which right
and justice had triumphed.
Of the treasures contained in the coffer left by Captain Nemo to the
colonists of Lincoln Island, the larger portion was employed in the
purchase of a vast territory in the State of Iowa. One pearl alone, the
finest, was reserved from the treasure and sent to Lady Glenarvan in the
name of the castaways restored to their country by the -Duncan-.
There, upon this domain, the colonists invited to labour, that is to
say, to wealth and happiness, all those to whom they had hoped to offer
the hospitality of Lincoln Island. There was founded a vast colony to
which they gave the name of that island sunk beneath the waters of the
Pacific. A river was there called the Mercy, a mountain took the name
of Mount Franklin, a small lake was named Lake Grant, and the forests
became the forests of the Far West. It might have been an island on
terra firma.
There, under the intelligent hands of the engineer and his companions,
everything prospered. Not one of the former colonists of Lincoln Island
was absent, for they had sworn to live always together. Neb was with
his master; Ayrton was there ready to sacrifice himself for all;
Pencroft was more a farmer than he had even been a sailor; Herbert, who
completed his studies under the superintendence of Cyrus Harding; and
Gideon Spilett, who founded the -New Lincoln Herald-, the best-informed
journal in the world.
There Cyrus Harding and his companions received at intervals visits from
Lord and Lady Glenarvan, Captain John Mangles and his wife, the sister
of Robert Grant, Robert Grant himself, Major McNab, and all those who
had taken part in the history both of Captain Grant and Captain Nemo.
There, to conclude, all were happy, united in the present as they had
been in the past; but never could they forget that island upon which
they had arrived poor and friendless, that island which, during four
years, had supplied all their wants, and of which there remained but a
fragment of granite washed by the waves of the Pacific, the tomb of him
who had borne the name of Captain Nemo.
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