ex-pipe, which was hung in his room near his store of tobacco. He filled
it himself, lighted it with a glowing coal, and appeared to be
the happiest of quadrumana. It may readily be understood that this
similarity of tastes of Jup and Pencroft served to tighten the bonds of
friendship which already existed between the honest ape and the worthy
sailor.
“Perhaps he is really a man,” said Pencroft sometimes to Neb. “Should
you be surprised to hear him beginning to speak to us some day?”
“My word, no,” replied Neb. “What astonishes me is that he hasn’t spoken
to us before, for now he wants nothing but speech!”
“It would amuse me all the same,” resumed the sailor, “if some fine day
he said to me, ‘Suppose we change pipes, Pencroft.’”
“Yes,” replied Neb, “what a pity he was born dumb!”
With the month of September the winter ended, and the works were again
eagerly commenced. The building of the vessel advanced rapidly, she was
already completely decked over, and all the inside parts of the hull
were firmly united with ribs bent by means of steam, which answered all
the purposes of a mold.
As there was no want of wood, Pencroft proposed to the engineer to give
a double lining to the hull, to insure the strength of the vessel.
Harding, not knowing what the future might have in store for them,
approved the sailor’s idea of making the craft as strong as possible.
The interior and deck of the vessel was entirely finished towards the
15th of September. For calking the seams they made oakum of dry seaweed,
which was hammered in between the planks; then these seams were covered
with boiling tar, which was obtained in great abundance from the pines
in the forest.
The management of the vessel was very simple. She had from the first
been ballasted with heavy blocks of granite walled up, in a bed of lime,
twelve thousand pounds of which they stowed away.
A deck was placed over this ballast, and the interior was divided into
two cabins; two benches extended along them and served also as lockers.
The foot of the mast supported the partition which separated the two
cabins, which were reached by two hatchways let into the deck.
Pencroft had no trouble in finding a tree suitable for the mast. He
chose a straight young fir, with no knots, and which he had only to
square at the step, and round off at the top. The ironwork of the mast,
the rudder and the hull had been roughly but strongly forged at the
Chimneys. Lastly, yards, masts, boom, spars, oars, etc., were all
furnished by the first week in October, and it was agreed that a trial
trip should be taken round the island, so as to ascertain how the vessel
would behave at sea, and how far they might depend upon her.
During all this time the necessary works had not been neglected.
The corral was enlarged, for the flock of musmons and goats had been
increased by a number of young ones, who had to be housed and fed. The
colonists had paid visits also to the oyster bed, the warren, the coal
and iron mines, and to the till then unexplored districts of the Far
West forest, which abounded in game. Certain indigenous plants were
discovered, and those fit for immediate use contributed to vary the
vegetable stores of Granite House.
They were a species of ficoide, some similar to those of the Cape, with
eatable fleshy leaves, others bearing seeds containing a sort of flour.
On the 10th of October the vessel was launched. Pencroft was radiant
with joy, the operation was perfectly successful; the boat completely
rigged, having been pushed on rollers to the water’s edge, was floated
by the rising tide, amid the cheers of the colonists, particularly of
Pencroft, who showed no modesty on this occasion. Besides his importance
was to last beyond the finishing of the vessel, since, after having
built her, he was to command her. The grade of captain was bestowed upon
him with the approbation of all. To satisfy Captain Pencroft, it was now
necessary to give a name to the vessel, and, after many propositions had
been discussed, the votes were all in favor of the “Bonadventure.” As
soon as the “Bonadventure” had been lifted by the rising tide, it was
seen that she lay evenly in the water, and would be easily navigated.
However, the trial trip was to be made that very day, by an excursion
off the coast. The weather was fine, the breeze fresh, and the sea
smooth, especially towards the south coast, for the wind was blowing
from the northwest.
“All hands on board,” shouted Pencroft; but breakfast was first
necessary, and it was thought best to take provisions on board, in the
event of their excursion being prolonged until the evening.
Cyrus Harding was equally anxious to try the vessel, the model of which
had originated with him, although on the sailor’s advice he had altered
some parts of it, but he did not share Pencroft’s confidence in her,
and as the latter had not again spoken of the voyage to Tabor Island,
Harding hoped he had given it up. He would have indeed great reluctance
in letting two or three of his companions venture so far in so small a
boat, which was not of more than fifteen tons’ burden.
At half-past ten everybody was on board, even Top and Jup, and Herbert
weighed the anchor, which was fast in the sand near the mouth of the
Mercy. The sail was hoisted, the Lincolnian flag floated from the
masthead, and the “Bonadventure,” steered by Pencroft, stood out to sea.
The wind blowing out of Union Bay she ran before it, and thus showed her
owners, much to their satisfaction, that she possessed a remarkably fast
pair of heels, according to Pencroft’s mode of speaking. After having
doubled Flotsam Point and Claw Cape, the captain kept her close hauled,
so as to sail along the southern coast of the island, when it was found
she sailed admirably within five points of the wind. All hands were
enchanted, they had a good vessel, which, in case of need, would be
of great service to them, and with fine weather and a fresh breeze the
voyage promised to be charming.
Pencroft now stood off the shore, three or four miles across from Port
Balloon. The island then appeared in all its extent and under a new
aspect, with the varied panorama of its shore from Claw Cape to Reptile
End, the forests in which dark firs contrasted with the young foliage
of other trees and overlooked the whole, and Mount Franklin whose lofty
head was still whitened with snow.
“How beautiful it is!” cried Herbert.
“Yes, our island is beautiful and good,” replied Pencroft. “I love it as
I loved my poor mother. It received us poor and destitute, and now what
is wanting to us five fellows who fell on it from the sky?”
“Nothing,” replied Neb; “nothing, captain.”
And the two brave men gave three tremendous cheers in honor of their
island!
During all this time Gideon Spilett, leaning against the mast, sketched
the panorama which was developed before his eyes.
Cyrus Harding gazed on it in silence.
“Well, Captain Harding,” asked Pencroft, “what do you think of our
vessel?”
“She appears to behave well,” replied the engineer.
“Good! And do you think now that she could undertake a voyage of some
extent?”
“What voyage, Pencroft?”
“One to Tabor Island, for instance.”
“My friend,” replied Harding, “I think that in any pressing emergency
we need not hesitate to trust ourselves to the ‘Bonadventure’ even for
a longer voyage; but you know I should see you set off to Tabor Island
with great uneasiness, since nothing obliges you to go there.”
“One likes to know one’s neighbors,” returned the sailor, who was
obstinate in his idea. “Tabor Island is our neighbor, and the only one!
Politeness requires us to go at least to pay a visit.”
“By Jove,” said Spilett, “our friend Pencroft has become very particular
about the proprieties all at once!”
“I am not particular about anything at all,” retorted the sailor, who
was rather vexed by the engineer’s opposition, but who did not wish to
cause him anxiety.
“Consider, Pencroft,” resumed Harding, “you cannot go alone to Tabor
Island.”
“One companion will be enough for me.”
“Even so,” replied the engineer, “you will risk depriving the colony of
Lincoln Island of two settlers out of five.”
“Out of six,” answered Pencroft; “you forget Jup.”
“Out of seven,” added Neb; “Top is quite worth another.”
“There is no risk at all in it, captain,” replied Pencroft.
“That is possible, Pencroft; but I repeat it is to expose ourselves
uselessly.”
The obstinate sailor did not reply, and let the conversation drop, quite
determined to resume it again. But he did not suspect that an incident
would come to his aid and change into an act of humanity that which was
at first only a doubtful whim.
After standing off the shore the “Bonadventure” again approached it
in the direction of Port Balloon. It was important to ascertain the
channels between the sandbanks and reefs, that buoys might be laid down
since this little creek was to be the harbor.
They were not more than half a mile from the coast, and it was necessary
to tack to beat against the wind. The “Bonadventure” was then going at a
very moderate rate, as the breeze, partly intercepted by the high land,
scarcely swelled her sails, and the sea, smooth as glass, was only
rippled now and then by passing gusts.
Herbert had stationed himself in the bows that he might indicate the
course to be followed among the channels, when all at once he shouted,--
“Luff, Pencroft, luff!”
“What’s the matter,” replied the sailor; “a rock?”
“No--wait,” said Herbert; “I don’t quite see. Luff again--right--now.”
So saying, Herbert, leaning over the side, plunged his arm into the
water, and pulled it out, exclaiming,--
“A bottle!”
He held in his hand a corked bottle which he had just seized a few
cables’ length from the shore.
Cyrus Harding took the bottle. Without uttering a single word he drew
the cork, and took from it a damp paper, on which were written these
words:--
“Castaway.... Tabor island: 153deg W. long., 37deg 11’ S. lat.”
Chapter 13
“A castaway!” exclaimed Pencroft; “left on this Tabor Island not two
hundred miles from us! Ah, Captain Harding, you won’t now oppose my
going.”
“No, Pencroft,” replied Cyrus Harding; “and you shall set out as soon as
possible.”
“To-morrow?”
“To-morrow!”
The engineer still held in his hand the paper which he had taken from
the bottle. He contemplated it for some instants, then resumed,
“From this document, my friends, from the way in which it is worded,
we may conclude this: first, that the castaway on Tabor Island is a man
possessing a considerable knowledge of navigation, since he gives the
latitude and longitude of the island exactly as we ourselves found it,
and to a second of approximation; secondly, that he is either English or
American, as the document is written in the English language.”
“That is perfectly logical,” answered Spilett; “and the presence of this
castaway explains the arrival of the case on the shores of our island.
There must have been a wreck, since there is a castaway. As to the
latter, whoever he may be, it is lucky for him that Pencroft thought of
building this boat and of trying her this very day, for a day later and
this bottle might have been broken on the rocks.”
“Indeed,” said Herbert, “it is a fortunate chance that the
‘Bonadventure’ passed exactly where the bottle was still floating!”
“Does not this appear strange to you?” asked Harding of Pencroft.
“It appears fortunate, that’s all,” answered the sailor. “Do you see
anything extraordinary in it, captain? The bottle must go somewhere, and
why not here as well as anywhere else?”
“Perhaps you are right, Pencroft,” replied the engineer; “and yet--”
“But,” observed Herbert, “there’s nothing to prove that this bottle has
been floating long in the sea.”
“Nothing,” replied Gideon Spilett, “and the document appears even to
have been recently written. What do you think about it, Cyrus?”
During this conversation Pencroft had not remained inactive. He had put
the vessel about, and the “Bonadventure,” all sails set, was running
rapidly towards Claw Cape.
Every one was thinking of the castaway on Tabor Island. Should they
be in time to save him? This was a great event in the life of the
colonists! They themselves were but castaways, but it was to be feared
that another might not have been so fortunate, and their duty was to go
to his succor.
Claw Cape was doubled, and about four o’clock the “Bonadventure” dropped
her anchor at the mouth of the Mercy.
That same evening the arrangements for the new expedition were made.
It appeared best that Pencroft and Herbert, who knew how to work the
vessel, should undertake the voyage alone. By setting out the next day,
the 10th of October, they would arrive on the 13th, for with the present
wind it would not take more than forty-eight hours to make this passage
of a hundred and fifty miles. One day in the island, three or four to
return, they might hope therefore that on the 17th they would again
reach Lincoln Island. The weather was fine, the barometer was rising,
the wind appeared settled, everything then was in favor of these brave
men whom an act of humanity was taking far from their island.
Thus it had been agreed that Cyrus Harding, Neb, and Gideon Spilett
should remain at Granite House, but an objection was raised, and
Spilett, who had not forgotten his business as reporter to the New York
Herald, having declared that he would go by swimming rather than lose
such an opportunity, he was admitted to take a part in the voyage.
The evening was occupied in transporting on board the “Bonadventure,”
articles of bedding, utensils, arms, ammunition, a compass, provisions
for a week; this being rapidly done, the colonists ascended to Granite
House.
The next day, at five o’clock in the morning, the farewells were said,
not without some emotion on both sides, and Pencroft setting sail made
towards Claw Cape, which had to be doubled in order to proceed to the
southwest.
The “Bonadventure” was already a quarter of a mile from the coast when
the passengers perceived on the heights of Granite House two men waving
their farewells; they were Cyrus Harding and Neb.
“Our friends,” exclaimed Spilett, “this is our first separation in
fifteen months.”
Pencroft, the reporter and Herbert waved in return, and Granite House
soon disappeared behind the high rocks of the Cape.
During the first part of the day the “Bonadventure” was still in sight
of the southern coast of Lincoln Island, which soon appeared just like
a green basket, with Mount Franklin rising from the center. The heights,
diminished by distance, did not present an appearance likely to tempt
vessels to touch there. Reptile End was passed in about an hour, though
at a distance of about ten miles.
At this distance it was no longer possible to distinguish anything of
the Western Coast, which stretched away to the ridges of Mount Franklin,
and three hours after the last of Lincoln Island sank below the horizon.
The “Bonadventure” behaved capitally. Bounding over the waves she
proceeded rapidly on her course. Pencroft had hoisted the foresail, and
steering by the compass followed a rectilinear direction. From time to
time Herbert relieved him at the helm, and the lad’s hand was so firm
that the sailor had not a point to find fault with.
Gideon Spilett chatted sometimes with one, sometimes with the other, if
wanted he lent a hand with the ropes, and Captain Pencroft was perfectly
satisfied with his crew.
In the evening the crescent moon, which would not be in its first
quarter until the 16th, appeared in the twilight and soon set again. The
night was dark but starry, and the next day again promised to be fine.
Pencroft prudently lowered the foresail, not wishing to be caught by
a sudden gust while carrying too much canvas; it was perhaps an
unnecessary precaution on such a calm night, but Pencroft was a prudent
sailor and cannot be blamed for it.
The reporter slept part of the night. Pencroft and Herbert took turns
for a spell of two hours each at the helm. The sailor trusted Herbert as
he would himself, and his confidence was justified by the coolness and
judgment of the lad. Pencroft gave him his directions as a commander to
his steersman, and Herbert never allowed the “Bonadventure” to swerve
even a point. The night passed quickly, as did the day of the 12th of
October. A south-easterly direction was strictly maintained. Unless the
“Bonadventure” fell in with some unknown current she would come exactly
within sight of Tabor Island.
As to the sea over which the vessel was then sailing, it was absolutely
deserted. Now and then a great albatross or frigate bird passed within
gunshot, and Gideon Spilett wondered if it was to one of them that he
had confided his last letter addressed to the New York Herald. These
birds were the only beings that appeared to frequent this part of the
ocean between Tabor and Lincoln Islands.
“And yet,” observed Herbert, “this is the time that whalers usually
proceed towards the southern part of the Pacific. Indeed I do not think
there could be a more deserted sea than this.”
“It is not quite so deserted as all that,” replied Pencroft.
“What do you mean?” asked the reporter.
“We are on it. Do you take our vessel for a wreck and us for porpoises?”
And Pencroft laughed at his joke.
By the evening, according to calculation, it was thought that the
“Bonadventure” had accomplished a distance of a hundred and twenty miles
since her departure from Lincoln Island, that is to say in thirty-six
hours, which would give her a speed of between three and four knots.
The breeze was very slight and might soon drop altogether.
However, it was hoped that the next morning by break of day, if the
calculation had been correct and the course true, they would sight Tabor
Island.
Neither Gideon Spilett, Herbert, nor Pencroft slept that night. In the
expectation of the next day they could not but feel some emotion.
There was so much uncertainty in their enterprise! Were they near Tabor
Island? Was the island still inhabited by the castaway to whose succor
they had come? Who was this man? Would not his presence disturb the
little colony till then so united? Besides, would he be content to
exchange his prison for another? All these questions, which would no
doubt be answered the next day, kept them in suspense, and at the dawn
of day they all fixed their gaze on the western horizon.
“Land!” shouted Pencroft at about six o’clock in the morning.
And it was impossible that Pencroft should be mistaken, it was
evident that land was there. Imagine the joy of the little crew of
the “Bonadventure.” In a few hours they would land on the beach of the
island!
The low coast of Tabor Island, scarcely emerging from the sea, was not
more than fifteen miles distant.
The head of the “Bonadventure,” which was a little to the south of the
island, was set directly towards it, and as the sun mounted in the east,
its rays fell upon one or two headlands.
“This is a much less important isle than Lincoln Island,” observed
Herbert, “and is probably due like ours to some submarine convulsion.”
At eleven o’clock the “Bonadventure” was not more than two miles off,
and Pencroft, while looking for a suitable place at which to land,
proceeded very cautiously through the unknown waters. The whole of the
island could now be surveyed, and on it could be seen groups of gum
and other large trees, of the same species as those growing on Lincoln
Island. But the astonishing thing was that no smoke arose to show that
the island was inhabited, no signal whatever appeared on the shore!
And yet the document was clear enough; there was a castaway, and this
castaway should have been on the watch.
In the meanwhile the “Bonadventure” entered the winding channels among
the reefs, and Pencroft observed every turn with extreme care. He had
put Herbert at the helm, posting himself in the bows, inspecting the
water, while he held the halliard in his hand, ready to lower the sail
at a moment’s notice. Gideon Spilett with his glass eagerly scanned the
shore, though without perceiving anything.
However, at about twelve o’clock the keel of the “Bonadventure” grated
on the bottom. The anchor was let go, the sails furled, and the crew of
the little vessel landed.
And there was no reason to doubt that this was Tabor Island, since
according to the most recent charts there was no island in this part of
the Pacific between New Zealand and the American Coast.
The vessel was securely moored, so that there should be no danger of
her being carried away by the receding tide; then Pencroft and his
companions, well armed, ascended the shore, so as to gain an elevation
of about two hundred and fifty or three hundred feet which rose at a
distance of half a mile.
“From the summit of that hill,” said Spilett, “we can no doubt obtain a
complete view of the island, which will greatly facilitate our search.”
“So as to do here,” replied Herbert, “that which Captain Harding did the
very first thing on Lincoln Island, by climbing Mount Franklin.”
“Exactly so,” answered the reporter, “and it is the best plan.”
While thus talking the explorers had advanced along a clearing
which terminated at the foot of the hill. Flocks of rock-pigeons and
sea-swallows, similar to those of Lincoln Island, fluttered around them.
Under the woods which skirted the glade on the left they could hear the
bushes rustling and see the grass waving, which indicated the presence
of timid animals, but still nothing to show that the island was
inhabited.
Arrived at the foot of the hill, Pencroft, Spilett, and Herbert climbed
it in a few minutes, and gazed anxiously round the horizon.
They were on an islet, which did not measure more than six miles in
circumference, its shape not much bordered by capes or promontories,
bays or creeks, being a lengthened oval. All around, the lonely sea
extended to the limits of the horizon. No land nor even a sail was in
sight.
This woody islet did not offer the varied aspects of Lincoln Island,
arid and wild in one part, but fertile and rich in the other. On the
contrary this was a uniform mass of verdure, out of which rose two or
three hills of no great height. Obliquely to the oval of the island ran
a stream through a wide meadow falling into the sea on the west by a
narrow mouth.
“The domain is limited,” said Herbert.
“Yes,” rejoined Pencroft: “It would have been too small for us.”
“And moreover,” said the reporter, “it appears to be uninhabited.”
“Indeed,” answered Herbert, “nothing here betrays the presence of man.”
“Let us go down,” said Pencroft, “and search.”
The sailor and his two companions returned to the shore, to the place
where they had left the “Bonadventure.”
They had decided to make the tour of the island on foot, before
exploring the interior; so that not a spot should escape their
investigations. The beach was easy to follow, and only in some places
was their way barred by large rocks, which, however, they easily passed
round. The explorers proceeded towards the south, disturbing numerous
flocks of sea-birds and herds of seals, which threw themselves into the
sea as soon as they saw the strangers at a distance.
“Those beasts yonder,” observed the reporter, “do not see men for the
first time. They fear them, therefore they must know them.”
An hour after their departure they arrived on the southern point of the
islet, terminated by a sharp cape, and proceeded towards the north along
the western coast, equally formed by sand and rocks, the background
bordered with thick woods.
There was not a trace of a habitation in any part, not the print of a
human foot on the shore of the island, which after four hours’ walking
had been gone completely round.
It was to say 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 it was possible in this case, either that the castaway had been
enabled to return to his country, or that he had died of misery.
Pencroft, Spilett, and Herbert, forming more or less probable
conjectures, dined rapidly on board the “Bonadventure” so as to be
able to continue their excursion until nightfall. This was done at five
o’clock in the evening, at which hour they entered the wood.
Numerous animals fled at their approach, being principally, one might
say, only goats and pigs, which were obviously European species.
Doubtless some whaler had landed them on the island, where they had
rapidly increased. Herbert resolved to catch one or two living, and take
them back to Lincoln Island.
It was no longer doubtful that men at some period or other had visited
this islet, and this became still more evident when paths appeared
trodden through the forest, felled trees, and everywhere traces of the
hand of man; but the trees were becoming rotten, and had been felled
many years ago; the marks of the axe were velveted with moss, and the
grass grew long and thick on the paths, so that it was difficult to find
them.
“But,” observed Gideon Spilett, “this not only proves that men have
landed on the island, but also that they lived on it for some time. Now,
who were these men? How many of them remain?”
“The document,” said Herbert, “only spoke of one castaway.”
“Well, if he is still on the island,” replied Pencroft, “it is
impossible but that we shall find him.”
The exploration was continued. The sailor and his companions naturally
followed the route which cut diagonally across the island, and they were
thus obliged to follow the stream which flowed towards the sea.
If the animals of European origin, if works due to a human hand, showed
incontestably that men had already visited the island, several specimens
of the vegetable kingdom did not prove it less. In some places, in the
midst of clearings, it was evident that the soil had been planted with
culinary plants, at probably the same distant period.
What, then, was Herbert’s joy, when he recognized potatoes, chicory,
sorrel, carrots, cabbages, and turnips, of which it was sufficient to
collect the seed to enrich the soil of Lincoln Island.
“Capital, jolly!” exclaimed Pencroft. “That will suit Neb as well as us.
Even if we do not find the castaway, at least our voyage will not have
been useless, and God will have rewarded us.”
“Doubtless,” replied Gideon Spilett, “but to see the state in which we
find these plantations, it is to be feared that the island has not been
inhabited for some time.”
“Indeed,” answered Herbert, “an inhabitant, whoever he was, could not
have neglected such an important culture!”
“Yes,” said Pencroft, “the castaway has gone.”
“We must suppose so.”
“It must then be admitted that the document has already a distant date?”
“Evidently.”
“And that the bottle only arrived at Lincoln Island after having floated
in the sea a long time.”
“Why not?” returned Pencroft. “But night is coming on,” added he, “and I
think that it will be best to give up the search for the present.”
“Let us go on board, and to-morrow we will begin again,” said the
reporter.
This was the wisest course, and it was about to be followed when
Herbert, pointing to a confused mass among the trees, exclaimed,--
“A hut!”
All three immediately ran towards the dwelling. In the twilight it was
just possible to see that it was built of planks and covered with a
thick tarpaulin.
The half-closed door was pushed open by Pencroft, who entered with a
rapid step.
The hut was empty!
Chapter 14
Pencroft, Herbert, and Gideon Spilett remained silent in the midst of
the darkness.
Pencroft shouted loudly.
No reply was made.
The sailor then struck a light and set fire to a twig. This lighted for
a minute a small room, which appeared perfectly empty. At the back was
a rude fireplace, with a few cold cinders, supporting an armful of dry
wood. Pencroft threw the blazing twig on it, the wood crackled and gave
forth a bright light.
The sailor and his two companions then perceived a disordered bed, of
which the damp and yellow coverlets proved that it had not been used for
a long time. In the corner of the fireplace were two kettles, covered
with rust, and an overthrown pot. A cupboard, with a few moldy sailor’s
clothes; on the table a tin plate and a Bible, eaten away by damp; in a
corner a few tools, a spade, pickaxe, two fowling-pieces, one of which
was broken; on a plank, forming a shelf, stood a barrel of powder, still
untouched, a barrel of shot, and several boxes of caps, all thickly
covered with dust, accumulated, perhaps, by many long years.
“There is no one here,” said the reporter.
“No one,” replied Pencroft.
“It is a long time since this room has been inhabited,” observed
Herbert.
“Yes, a very long time!” answered the reporter.
“Mr. Spilett,” then said Pencroft, “instead of returning on board, I
think that it would be well to pass the night in this hut.”
“You are right, Pencroft,” answered Gideon Spilett, “and if its owner
returns, well! perhaps he will not be sorry to find the place taken
possession of.”
“He will not return,” said the sailor, shaking his head.
“You think that he has quitted the island?” asked the reporter.
“If he had quitted the island he would have taken away his weapons and
his tools,” replied Pencroft. “You know the value which castaways set
on such articles as these the last remains of a wreck. No! no!” repeated
the sailor, in a tone of conviction; “no, he has not left the island! If
he had escaped in a boat made by himself, he would still less have left
these indispensable and necessary articles. No! he is on the island!”
“Living?” asked Herbert.
“Living or dead. But if he is dead, I suppose he has not buried himself,
and so we shall at least find his remains!”
It was then agreed that the night should be passed in the deserted
dwelling, and a store of wood found in a corner was sufficient to warm
it. The door closed, Pencroft, Herbert and Spilett remained there,
seated on a bench, talking little but wondering much. They were in a
frame of mind to imagine anything or expect anything. They listened
eagerly for sounds outside. The door might have opened suddenly, and
a man presented himself to them without their being in the least
surprised, notwithstanding all that the hut revealed of abandonment,
and they had their hands ready to press the hands of this man, this
castaway, this unknown friend, for whom friends were waiting.
But no voice was heard, the door did not open. The hours thus passed
away.
How long the night appeared to the sailor and his companions! Herbert
alone slept for two hours, for at his age sleep is a necessity. They
were all three anxious to continue their exploration of the day before,
and to search the most secret recesses of the islet! The inferences
deduced by Pencroft were perfectly reasonable, and it was nearly certain
that, as the hut was deserted, and the tools, utensils, and weapons were
still there, the owner had succumbed. It was agreed, therefore, that
they should search for his remains, and give them at least Christian
burial.
Day dawned; Pencroft and his companions immediately proceeded to survey
the dwelling. It had certainly been built in a favorable situation,
at the back of a little hill, sheltered by five or six magnificent
gum-trees. Before its front and through the trees the axe had prepared
a wide clearing, which allowed the view to extend to the sea. Beyond a
lawn, surrounded by a wooden fence falling to pieces, was the shore, on
the left of which was the mouth of the stream.
The hut had been built of planks, and it was easy to see that these
planks had been obtained from the hull or deck of a ship. It was
probable that a disabled vessel had been cast on the coast of the
island, that one at least of the crew had been saved, and that by means
of the wreck this man, having tools at his disposal, had built the
dwelling.
And this became still more evident when Gideon Spilett, after having
walked around the hut, saw on a plank, probably one of those which
had formed the armor of the wrecked vessel, these letters already half
effaced:
BR--TAN--A
“Britannia,” exclaimed Pencroft, whom the reporter had called; “it is
a common name for ships, and I could not say if she was English or
American!”
“It matters very little, Pencroft!”
“Very little indeed,” answered the sailor, “and we will save the
survivor of her crew if he is still living, to whatever country he may
belong. But before beginning our search again let us go on board the
‘Bonadventure’.”
A sort of uneasiness had seized Pencroft upon the subject of his vessel.
Should the island be inhabited after all, and should some one have taken
possession of her? But he shrugged his shoulders at such an unreasonable
supposition. At any rate the sailor was not sorry to go to breakfast on
board. The road already trodden was not long, scarcely a mile. They set
out on their walk, gazing into the wood and thickets through which goats
and pigs fled in hundreds.
Twenty minutes after leaving the hut Pencroft and his companions reached
the western coast of the island, and saw the “Bonadventure” held fast by
her anchor, which was buried deep in the sand.
Pencroft could not restrain a sigh of satisfaction. After all this
vessel was his child, and it is the right of fathers to be often uneasy
when there is no occasion for it.
They returned on board, breakfasted, so that it should not be necessary
to dine until very late; then the repast being ended, the exploration
was continued and conducted with the most minute care. Indeed, it was
very probable that the only inhabitant of the island had perished. It
was therefore more for the traces of a dead than of a living man that
Pencroft and his companions searched. But their searches were vain, and
during the half of that day they sought to no purpose among the thickets
of trees which covered the islet. There was then scarcely any doubt
that, if the castaway was dead, no trace of his body now remained, but
that some wild beast had probably devoured it to the last bone.
“We will set off to-morrow at daybreak,” said Pencroft to his two
companions, as about two o’clock they were resting for a few minutes
under the shade of a clump of firs.
“I should think that we might without scruple take the utensils which
belonged to the castaway,” added Herbert.
“I think so, too,” returned Gideon Spilett, “and these arms and tools
will make up the stores of Granite House. The supply of powder and shot
is also most important.”
“Yes,” replied Pencroft, “but we must not forget to capture a couple or
two of those pigs, of which Lincoln Island is destitute.”
“Nor to gather those seeds,” added Herbert, “which will give us all the
vegetables of the Old and the New Worlds.”
“Then perhaps it would be best,” said the reporter, “to remain a day
longer on Tabor Island, so as to collect all that may be useful to us.”
“No, Mr. Spilett,” answered Pencroft, “I will ask you to set off
to-morrow at daybreak. The wind seems to me to be likely to shift to the
west, and after having had a fair wind for coming we shall have a fair
wind for going back.”
“Then do not let us lose time,” said Herbert, rising.
“We won’t waste time,” returned Pencroft. “You, Herbert, go and gather
the seeds, which you know better than we do. While you do that, Mr.
Spilett and I will go and have a pig hunt, and even without Top I hope
we shall manage to catch a few!”
Herbert accordingly took the path which led towards the cultivated part
of the islet, while the sailor and the reporter entered the forest.
Many specimens of the porcine race fled before them, and these animals,
which were singularly active, did not appear to be in a humor to allow
themselves to be approached.
However, after an hour’s chase, the hunters had just managed to get hold
of a couple lying in a thicket, when cries were heard resounding from
the north part of the island, With the cries were mingled terrible
yells, in which there was nothing human.
Pencroft and Gideon Spilett were at once on their feet, and the pigs
by this movement began to run away, at the moment when the sailor was
getting ready the rope to bind them.
“That’s Herbert’s voice,” said the reporter.
“Run!” exclaimed Pencroft.
And the sailor and Spilett immediately ran at full speed towards the
spot from whence the cries proceeded.
They did well to hasten, for at a turn of the path near a clearing they
saw the lad thrown on the ground and in the grasp of a savage being,
apparently a gigantic ape, who was about to do him some great harm.
To rush on this monster, throw him on the ground in his turn, snatch
Herbert from him, then bind him securely, was the work of a minute for
Pencroft and Gideon Spilett. The sailor was of Herculean strength, the
reporter also very powerful, and in spite of the monster’s resistance he
was firmly tied so that he could not even move.
“You are not hurt, Herbert?” asked Spilett.
“No, no!”
“Oh, if this ape had wounded him!” exclaimed Pencroft.
“But he is not an ape,” answered Herbert.
At these words Pencroft and Gideon Spilett looked at the singular being
who lay on the ground. Indeed it was not an ape; it was a human being,
a man. But what a man! A savage in all the horrible acceptation of the
word, and so much the more frightful that he seemed fallen to the lowest
degree of brutishness!
Shaggy hair, untrimmed beard descending to the chest, the body almost
naked except a rag round the waist, wild eyes, enormous hands with
immensely long nails, skin the color of mahogany, feet as hard as if
made of horn, such was the miserable creature who yet had a claim to be
called a man. But it might justly be asked if there were yet a soul in
this body, or if the brute instinct alone survived in it!
“Are you quite sure that this is a man, or that he has ever been one?”
said Pencroft to the reporter.
“Alas! there is no doubt about it,” replied Spilett.
“Then this must be the castaway?” asked Herbert.
“Yes,” replied Gideon Spilett, “but the unfortunate man has no longer
anything human about him!”
The reporter spoke the truth. It was evident that if the castaway had
ever been a civilized being, solitude had made him a savage, or worse,
perhaps a regular man of the woods. Hoarse sounds issued from his throat
between his teeth, which were sharp as the teeth of a wild beast made to
tear raw flesh.
Memory must have deserted him long before, and for a long time also he
had forgotten how to use his gun and tools, and he no longer knew how to
make a fire! It could be seen that he was active and powerful, but the
physical qualities had been developed in him to the injury of the moral
qualities. Gideon Spilett spoke to him. He did not appear to understand
or even to hear. And yet on looking into his eyes, the reporter thought
he could see that all reason was not extinguished in him. However, the
prisoner did not struggle, nor even attempt to break his bonds. Was he
overwhelmed by the presence of men whose fellow he had once been? Had he
found in some corner of his brain a fleeting remembrance which recalled
him to humanity? If free, would he attempt to fly, or would he remain?
They could not tell, but they did not make the experiment; and after
gazing attentively at the miserable creature,--
“Whoever he may be,” remarked Gideon Spilett, “whoever he may have
been, and whatever he may become, it is our duty to take him with us to
Lincoln Island.”
“Yes, yes!” replied Herbert, “and perhaps with care we may arouse in him
some gleam of intelligence.”
“The soul does not die,” said the reporter, “and it would be a great
satisfaction to rescue one of God’s creatures from brutishness.”
Pencroft shook his head doubtfully.
“We must try at any rate,” returned the reporter; “humanity commands
us.”
It was indeed their duty as Christians and civilized beings. All three
felt this, and they well knew that Cyrus Harding would approve of their
acting thus.
“Shall we leave him bound?” asked the sailor.
“Perhaps he would walk if his feet were unfastened,” said Herbert.
“Let us try,” replied Pencroft.
The cords which shackled the prisoner’s feet were cut off, but his arms
remained securely fastened. He got up by himself and did not manifest
any desire to run away. His hard eyes darted a piercing glance at the
three men, who walked near him, but nothing denoted that he recollected
being their fellow, or at least having been so. A continual hissing
sound issued from his lips, his aspect was wild, but he did not attempt
to resist.
By the reporter’s advice the unfortunate man was taken to the hut.
Perhaps the sight of the things that belonged to him would make some
impression on him! Perhaps a spark would be sufficient to revive his
obscured intellect, to rekindle his dulled soul. The dwelling was
not far off. In a few minutes they arrived there, but the prisoner
remembered nothing, and it appeared that he had lost consciousness of
everything.
What could they think of the degree of brutishness into which this
miserable being had fallen, unless that his imprisonment on the islet
dated from a very distant period and after having arrived there a
rational being solitude had reduced him to this condition.
The reporter then thought that perhaps the sight of fire would have
some effect on him, and in a moment one of those beautiful flames, that
attract even animals, blazed up on the hearth. The sight of the flame
seemed at first to fix the attention of the unhappy object, but soon
he turned away and the look of intelligence faded. Evidently there was
nothing to be done, for the time at least, but to take him on board
the “Bonadventure.” This was done, and he remained there in Pencroft’s
charge.
Herbert and Spilett returned to finish their work; and some hours after
they came back to the shore, carrying the utensils and guns, a store of
vegetables, of seeds, some game, and two couple of pigs.
All was embarked, and the “Bonadventure” was ready to weigh anchor and
sail with the morning tide.
The prisoner had been placed in the fore-cabin, where he remained quiet,
silent, apparently deaf and dumb.
Pencroft offered him something to eat, but he pushed away the cooked
meat that was presented to him and which doubtless did not suit him. But
on the sailor showing him one of the ducks which Herbert had killed, he
pounced on it like a wild beast, and devoured it greedily.
“You think that he will recover his senses?” asked Pencroft. “It is
not impossible that our care will have an effect upon him, for it is
solitude that has made him what he is, and from this time forward he
will be no longer alone.”
“The poor man must no doubt have been in this state for a long time,”
said Herbert.
“Perhaps,” answered Gideon Spilett.
“About what age is he?” asked the lad.
“It is difficult to say,” replied the reporter, “for 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 might be about fifty.”
“Have you noticed, Mr. Spilett, how deeply sunk his eyes are?” asked
Herbert.
“Yes, Herbert, but I must add that they are more human than one could
expect from his appearance.”
“However, we shall see,” replied Pencroft, “and I am anxious to know
what opinion Captain Harding will have of our savage. We went to look
for a human creature, and we are bringing back a monster! After all, we
did what we could.”
The night passed, and whether the prisoner slept or not could not be
known, but at any rate, although he had been unbound, he did not
move. He was like a wild animal, which appears stunned at first by its
capture, and becomes wild again afterwards.
At daybreak the next morning, the 15th of October, the change of weather
predicted by Pencroft occurred. The wind having shifted to the northwest
favored the return of the “Bonadventure,” but at the same time it
freshened, which might render navigation more difficult.
At five o’clock in the morning the anchor was weighed. Pencroft took a
reef in the mainsail, and steered towards the north-east, so as to sail
straight for Lincoln Island.
The first day of the voyage was not marked by any incident. The prisoner
remained quiet in the fore-cabin, and as he had been a sailor it
appeared that the motion of the vessel might produce on him a salutary
reaction. Did some recollection of his former calling return to him?
However that might be, he remained tranquil, astonished rather than
depressed.
The next day the wind increased, blowing more from the north,
consequently in a less favorable direction for the “Bonadventure.”
Pencroft was soon obliged to sail close-hauled, and without saying
anything about it he began to be uneasy at the state of the sea, which
frequently broke over the bows. Certainly, if the wind did not moderate,
it would take a longer time to reach Lincoln Island than it had taken to
make Tabor Island.
Indeed, on the morning of the 17th, the “Bonadventure” had been
forty-eight hours at sea, and nothing showed that she was near the
island. It was impossible, besides, to estimate the distance traversed,
or to trust to the reckoning for the direction, as the speed had been
very irregular.
Twenty-four hours after there was yet no land in sight. The wind was
right ahead and the sea very heavy. The sails were close-reefed, and
they tacked frequently. On the 18th, a wave swept completely over the
“Bonadventure”; and if the crew had not taken the precaution of lashing
themselves to the deck, they would have been carried away.
On this occasion Pencroft and his companions, who were occupied with
loosing themselves, received unexpected aid from the prisoner, who
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