the surf."
"Well, where would you put her, Pencroft?"
"In Port Balloon," replied the sailor. "That little creek, shut in by
rocks, seems to me to be just the harbour we want."
"Is it not rather far?"
"Pooh! it is not more than three miles from Granite House, and we have
a fine straight road to take us there!"
"Do it then, Pencroft, and take your -Bonadventure- there," replied
the engineer, "and yet I would rather have her under our more
immediate protection. When we have time, we must make a little harbour
for her."
"Famous!" exclaimed Pencroft. "A harbour with a lighthouse, a pier,
and a dock! Ah! really with you, captain, everything becomes easy."
"Yes, my brave Pencroft," answered the engineer, "but on condition,
however, that you help me, for you do as much as three men in all our
work."
Herbert and the sailor then re-embarked on board the -Bonadventure-,
the anchor was weighed, the sail hoisted, and the wind drove her
rapidly towards Claw Cape. Two hours after, she was reposing on the
tranquil waters of Port Balloon.
During the first days passed by the stranger in Granite House, had he
already given them reason to think that his savage nature was becoming
tamed? Did a brighter light burn in the depths of that obscured mind?
In short, was the soul returning to the body?
Yes, to a certainty, and to such a degree, that Cyrus Harding and the
reporter wondered if the reason of the unfortunate man had ever been
totally extinguished. At first, accustomed to the open air, to the
unrestrained liberty which he had enjoyed on Tabor Island, the
stranger manifested a sullen fury, and it was feared that he might
throw himself on to the beach, out of one of the windows of Granite
House. But gradually he became calmer, and more freedom was allowed to
his movements.
They had reason to hope, and to hope much. Already, forgetting his
carnivorous instincts, the stranger accepted a less bestial
nourishment than that on which he fed on the islet, and cooked meat
did not produce in him the same sentiment of repulsion which he had
showed on board the -Bonadventure-. Cyrus Harding had profited by a
moment when he was sleeping, to cut his hair and matted beard, which
formed a sort of mane, and gave him such a savage aspect. He had also
been clothed more suitably, after having got rid of the rag which
covered him. The result was that, thanks to these attentions, the
stranger resumed a more human appearance, and it even seemed as if his
eyes had become milder. Certainly, when formerly lighted up by
intelligence, this man's face must have had a sort of beauty.
Every day, Harding imposed on himself the task of passing some hours
in his company. He came and worked near him, and occupied himself in
different things, so as to fix his attention. A spark, indeed, would
be sufficient to reillumine that soul, a recollection crossing that
brain to recall reason. That had been seen, during the storm, on board
the -Bonadventure!- The engineer did not neglect either to speak
aloud, so as to penetrate at the same time by the organs of hearing
and sight the depths of that torpid intelligence. Sometimes one of his
companions, sometimes another, sometimes all joined him. They spoke
most often of things belonging to the navy, which must interest a
sailor.
At times the stranger gave some slight attention to what was said, and
the settlers were soon convinced that he partly understood them.
Sometimes the expression of his countenance was deeply sorrowful, a
proof that he suffered mentally, for his face could not be mistaken;
but he did not speak, although at different times, however, they
almost thought that words were about to issue from his lips. At all
events, the poor creature was quite quiet and sad!
But was not his calm only apparent? Was not his sadness only the
result of his seclusion? Nothing could yet be ascertained. Seeing only
certain objects and in a limited space, always in contact with the
colonists, to whom he would soon become accustomed, having no desires
to satisfy, better fed, better clothed, it was natural that his
physical nature should gradually improve; but was he penetrated with
the sense of a new life? or rather, to employ a word, which would be
exactly applicable to him, was he not becoming tamed, like an animal
in company with his master? This was an important question, which
Cyrus Harding was anxious to answer, and yet he did not wish to treat
his invalid roughly! would he ever be a convalescent?
How the engineer observed him every moment! How he was on the watch
for his soul, if one may use the expression! How he was ready to grasp
it! The settlers followed with real sympathy all the phases of the
cure undertaken by Harding. They aided him also in this work of
humanity, and all, except perhaps the incredulous Pencroft, soon
shared both his hope and his faith.
The calm of the stranger was deep, as has been said, and he even
showed a sort of attachment for the engineer, whose influence he
evidently felt. Cyrus Harding resolved then to try him, by
transporting him to another scene, from that ocean which formerly his
eyes had been accustomed to contemplate, to the border of the forest,
which might perhaps recall those where so many years of his life had
been passed!
"But," said Gideon Spilett, "can we hope that he will not escape, if
once set at liberty?"
"The experiment must be tried," replied the engineer.
"Well!" said Pencroft. "When that fellow is outside, and feels the
fresh air, he will be off as fast as his legs can carry him!"
"I do not think so," returned Harding.
"Let us try," said Spilett.
"We will try," replied the engineer.
This was on the 30th of October, and consequently the castaway of
Tabor Island had been a prisoner in Granite House for nine days. It
was warm, and a bright sun darted his rays on the island. Cyrus
Harding and Pencroft went to the room occupied by the stranger, who
was found lying near the window and gazing at the sky.
"Come, my friend," said the engineer to him.
The stranger rose immediately. His eyes were fixed on Cyrus Harding,
and he followed him, whilst the sailor marched behind them, little
confident as to the result of the experiment.
Arrived at the door, Harding and Pencroft made him take his place in
the lift, whilst Neb, Herbert, and Gideon Spilett waited for them
before Granite House. The lift descended, and in a few moments all
were united on the beach.
The settlers went a short distance from the stranger, so as to leave
him at liberty.
He then made a few steps towards the sea, and his look brightened with
extreme animation, but he did not make the slightest attempt to
escape. He was gazing at the little waves, which broken by the islet
rippled on the sand.
"This is only the sea," observed Gideon Spilett, "and possibly it does
not inspire him with any wish to escape!"
"Yes," replied Harding, "we must take him to the plateau, on the
border of the forest. There the experiment will be more conclusive."
"Besides, he could not run away," said Neb, "since the bridge is
raised."
"Oh!" said Pencroft, "that isn't a man to be troubled by a stream like
Creek Glycerine! He could cross it directly, at a single bound!"
"We shall soon see," Harding contented himself with replying, his eyes
not quitting those of his patient.
The latter was then led towards the mouth of the Mercy, and all
climbing the left bank of the river, reached Prospect Heights.
Arrived at the spot on which grew the first beautiful trees of the
forest, their foliage slightly agitated by the breeze, the stranger
appeared greedily to drink in the penetrating odour which filled the
atmosphere, and a long sigh escaped from his chest.
The settlers kept behind him, ready to seize him if he made any
movement to escape!
And, indeed, the poor creature was on the point of springing into the
creek which separated him from the forest, and his legs were bent for
an instant as if for a spring, but almost immediately he stepped back,
half sank down, and a large tear fell from his eyes.
"Ah!" exclaimed Cyrus Harding, "you have become a man again, for you
can weep!"
[Illustration: THE EXPERIMENT]
CHAPTER XVI
A Mystery to be cleared up -- The Stranger's first Words --
Twelve Years on the Islet -- Avowal which escapes him -- The
Disappearance -- Cyrus Harding's Confidence -- Construction
of a Mill -- The first Bread -- An Act of Devotion -- Honest
Hands.
Yes! the unfortunate man had wept! Some recollection doubtless had
flashed across his brain, and to use Cyrus Harding's expression, by
those tears he was once more a man.
The colonists left him for some time on the plateau, and withdrew
themselves to a short distance, so that he might feel himself free;
but he did not think of profiting by this liberty, and Harding soon
brought him back to Granite House. Two days after this occurrence, the
stranger appeared to wish gradually to mingle with their common life.
He evidently heard and understood, but no less evidently was he
strangely determined not to speak to the colonists; for one evening,
Pencroft, listening at the door of his room, heard these words escape
from his lips:--
"No! here! I! never!"
The sailor reported these words to his companions.
"There is some painful mystery there!" said Harding.
The stranger had begun to use the labouring tools, and he worked in
the garden. When he stopped in his work, as was often the case, he
remained retired within himself; but on the engineer's recommendation,
they respected the reserve which he apparently wished to keep. If one
of the settlers approached him, he drew back, and his chest heaved
with sobs, as if overburthened!
Was it remorse that overwhelmed him thus? They were compelled to
believe so, and Gideon Spilett could not help one day making this
observation,--
"If he does not speak it is because he has, I fear, things too serious
to be told!"
They must be patient and wait.
[Illustration: "WHO ARE YOU?" HE ASKED IN A HOLLOW VOICE]
A few days later, on the 3rd of November, the stranger, working on the
plateau, had stopped, letting his spade drop to the ground, and
Harding who was observing him from a little distance, saw that tears
were again flowing from his eyes. A sort of irresistible pity led him
towards the unfortunate man, and he touched his arm lightly.
"My friend!" said he.
The stranger tried to avoid his look, and Cyrus Harding, having
endeavoured to take his hand, he drew back quickly.
"My friend," said Harding in a firmer voice, "look at me, I wish it!"
The stranger looked at the engineer, and seemed to be under his power,
as a subject under the influence of a mesmerist. He wished to run
away. But then his countenance suddenly underwent a transformation.
His eyes flashed. Words struggled to escape from his lips. He could no
longer contain himself!... At last he folded his arms, then, in a
hollow voice,--
"Who are you?" he asked Cyrus Harding.
"Castaways, like you," replied the engineer, whose emotion was deep.
"We have brought you here, among your fellow-men."
"My fellow-men!... I have none!"
"You are in the midst of friends."
"Friends!--for me! friends!" exclaimed the stranger, hiding his face
in his hands. "No--never--leave me! leave me!"
Then he rushed to the side of the plateau which overlooked the sea,
and remained there a long time motionless.
Harding rejoined his companions and related to them what had just
happened.
"Yes! there is some mystery in that man's life," said Gideon Spilett,
"and it appears as if he had only re-entered society by the path of
remorse."
"I don't know what sort of a man we have brought here," said the
sailor. "He has secrets--"
"Which we will respect," interrupted Cyrus Harding quickly. "If he has
committed any crime, he has most fearfully expiated it, and in our
eyes he is absolved."
[Illustration: THE STRANGER]
For two hours the stranger remained alone on the shore, evidently
under the influence of recollections which recalled all his past
life--a melancholy life doubtless--and the colonists, without losing
sight of him, did not attempt to disturb his solitude. However, after
two hours, appearing to have formed a resolution, he came to find
Cyrus Harding. His eyes were red with the tears he had shed, but he
wept no longer. His countenance expressed deep humility. He appeared
anxious, timorous, ashamed, and his eyes were constantly fixed on the
ground.
"Sir," said he to Harding, "your companions and you, are you English?"
"No," answered the engineer, "we are Americans."
"Ah!" said the stranger, and he murmured, "I prefer that!"
"And you, my friend?" asked the engineer.
"English," replied he hastily.
And as if these few words had been difficult to say, he retreated to
the beach, where he walked up and down between the cascade and the
mouth of the Mercy, in a state of extreme agitation.
Then, passing one moment close to Herbert, he stopped, and in a
stifled voice,--
"What month?" he asked.
"December," replied Herbert.
"What year?"
"1866."
"Twelve years! twelve years!" he exclaimed.
Then he left him abruptly.
Herbert reported to the colonists the questions and answers which had
been made.
"This unfortunate man," observed Gideon Spilett, "was no longer
acquainted with either months or years!"
"Yes!" added Herbert, "and he had been twelve years already on the
islet when we found him there!"
"Twelve years!" rejoined Harding. "Ah! twelve years of solitude, after
a wicked life, perhaps, may well impair a man's reason!"
"I am induced to think," said Pencroft, "that this man was not wrecked
on Tabor Island, but that in consequence of some crime he was left
there."
"You must be right, Pencroft," replied the reporter, "and if it is so
it is not impossible that those who left him on the island may return
to fetch him some day!"
"And they will no longer find him," said Herbert.
"But then," added Pencroft, "they must return, and--"
"My friends," said Cyrus Harding, "do not let us discuss this question
until we know more about it. I believe that the unhappy man has
suffered, that he has severely expiated his faults, whatever they may
have been, and that the wish to unburden himself stifles him. Do not
let us press him to tell us his history! He will tell it to us
doubtless, and when we know it, we shall see what course it will be
best to follow. He alone besides can tell us, if he has more than a
hope, a certainty, of returning some day to his country, but I doubt
it!"
"And why?" asked the reporter.
"Because that, in the event of his being sure of being delivered at a
certain time, he would have waited the hour of his deliverance and
would not have thrown this document into the sea. No, it is more
probable that he was condemned to die on that islet, and that he never
expected to see his fellow-creatures again!"
"But," observed the sailor, "there is one thing which I cannot
explain."
"What is it?"
"If this man had been left for twelve years on Tabor Island, one may
well suppose that he had been several years already in the wild state
in which we found him!"
"That is probable," replied Cyrus Harding.
"It must then be many years since he wrote that document!"
"No doubt, and yet the document appears to have been recently
written!"
"Besides, how do you know that the bottle which enclosed the document
may not have taken several years to come from Tabor Island to Lincoln
Island?"
"That is not absolutely impossible," replied the reporter.
"Might it not have been a long time already on the coast of the
island?"
"No," answered Pencroft, "for it was still floating. We could not even
suppose that after it had stayed for any length of time on the shore,
it would have been swept off by the sea, for the south coast is all
rocks, and it would certainly have been smashed to pieces there!"
"That is true," rejoined Cyrus Harding thoughtfully.
"And then," continued the sailor, "if the document was several years
old, if it had been shut up in that bottle for several years, it would
have been injured by damp. Now, there is nothing of the kind, and it
was found in a perfect state of preservation."
The sailor's reasoning was very just, and pointed out an
incomprehensible fact, for the document appeared to have been recently
written, when the colonists found it in the bottle. Moreover, it gave
the latitude and longitude of Tabor Island correctly, which implied
that its author had a more complete knowledge of hydrography than
could be expected of a common sailor.
"There is in this, again, something unaccountable," said the engineer;
"but we will not urge our companion to speak. When he likes, my
friends, then we shall be ready to hear him!"
During the following days the stranger did not speak a word, and did
not once leave the precincts of the plateau. He worked away, without
losing a moment, without taking a minute's rest, but always in a
retired place. At meal times he never came to Granite House, although
invited several times to do so, but contented himself with eating a
few raw vegetables. At nightfall he did not return to the room
assigned to him, but remained under some clump of trees, or when the
weather was bad crouched in some cleft of the rocks. Thus he lived in
the same manner as when he had no other shelter than the forests of
Tabor Island, and as all persuasion to induce him to improve his life
was in vain, the colonists waited patiently. And the time was near,
when, as it seemed, almost involuntarily urged by his conscience, a
terrible confession escaped him.
On the 10th of November, about eight o'clock in the evening, as night
was coming on, the stranger appeared unexpectedly before the settlers,
who were assembled under the verandah. His eyes burned strangely, and
he had quite resumed the wild aspect of his worst days.
Cyrus Harding and his companions were astounded on seeing that,
overcome by some terrible emotion, his teeth chattered like those of a
person in a fever. What was the matter with him? Was the sight of his
fellow-creatures insupportable to him? Was he weary of this return to
a civilised mode of existence? Was he pining for his former savage
life? It appeared so, as soon he was heard to express himself in these
incoherent sentences:--
"Why am I here?... By what right have you dragged me from my islet?...
Do you think there could be any tie between you and me?... Do you know
who I am--what I have done--why I was there--alone? And who told you
that I was not abandoned there--that I was not condemned to die
there?... Do you know my past?... How do you know that I have not
stolen, murdered--that I am not a wretch--an accursed being--only fit
to live like a wild beast far from all--speak--do you know it?"
The colonists listened without interrupting the miserable creature,
from whom these broken confessions escaped, as it were, in spite of
himself. Harding wishing to calm him, approached him, but he hastily
drew back.
"No! no!" he exclaimed; "one word only--am I free?"
"You are free," answered the engineer.
"Farewell then!" he cried, and fled like a madman.
Neb, Pencroft, and Herbert ran also towards the edge of the wood--but
they returned alone.
"We must let him alone!" said Cyrus Harding.
"He will never come back!" exclaimed Pencroft.
"He will come back," replied the engineer.
Many days passed; but Harding--was it a sort of
presentiment?--persisted in the fixed idea that sooner or later the
unhappy man would return.
"It is the last revolt of his wild nature," said he, "which remorse
has touched, and which renewed solitude will terrify."
In the meanwhile, works of all sorts were continued, as well on
Prospect Heights as at the corral, where Harding intended to build a
farm. It is unnecessary to say that the seeds collected by Herbert on
Tabor Island had been carefully sown. The plateau thus formed one
immense kitchen-garden, well laid out and carefully tended, so that
the arms of the settlers were never in want of work. There was always
something to be done. As the esculents increased in number, it became
necessary to enlarge the simple beds, which threatened to grow into
regular fields and replace the meadows. But grass abounded in other
parts of the island, and there was no fear of the onagas being obliged
to go on short allowance. It was well worth while, besides, to turn
Prospect Heights into a kitchen-garden, defended by its deep belt of
creeks, and to remove them to the meadows, which had no need of
protection against the depredations of quadrumana and quadrupeds.
On the 15th of November, the third harvest was gathered in. How
wonderfully had the field increased in extent, since eighteen months
ago, when the first grain of wheat was sown! The second crop of six
hundred thousand grains produced this time four thousand bushels, or
five hundred millions of grains!
The colony was rich in corn, for ten bushels alone were sufficient for
sowing every year to produce an ample crop for the food both of men
and beasts. The harvest was completed, and the last fortnight of the
month of November was devoted to the work of converting it into food
for man. In fact, they had corn, but not flour, and the establishment
of a mill was necessary. Cyrus Harding could have utilised the second
fall which flowed into the Mercy to establish his motive power, the
first being already occupied with moving the felting mill; but after
some consultation, it was decided that a simple windmill should be
built on Prospect Heights. The building of this presented no more
difficulty than the building of the former, and it was moreover
certain that there would be no want of wind on the plateau, exposed as
it was to the sea breezes.
"Not to mention," said Pencroft, "that the windmill will be more
lively and will have a good effect in the landscape!"
They set to work by choosing timber for the frame and machinery of the
mill. Some large stones, found at the north of the lake, could be
easily transformed into millstones; and as to the sails, the
inexhaustible case of the balloon furnished the necessary material.
Cyrus Harding made his model, and the site of the mill was chosen a
little to the right of the poultry-yard, near the shore of the lake.
The frame was to rest on a pivot supported with strong timbers, so
that it could turn with all the machinery it contained according as
the wind required it. The work advanced rapidly. Neb and Pencroft had
become very skilful carpenters, and had nothing to do but to copy the
models provided by the engineer.
Soon a sort of cylindrical box, in shape like a pepperpot, with a
pointed roof, rose on the spot chosen. The four frames which formed
the sails had been firmly fixed in the centre beam, so as to form a
certain angle with it, and secured with iron clamps. As to the
different parts of the internal mechanism, the box destined to contain
the two millstones, the fixed stone and the moving stone, the hopper,
a sort of large square trough, wide at the top, narrow at the bottom,
which would allow the grain to fall on the stones, the oscillating
spout intended to regulate the passing of the grain, and lastly the
bolting machine, which by the operation of sifting, separates the bran
from the flour, were made without difficulty. The tools were good, and
the work not difficult, for in reality, the machinery of a mill is
very simple. This was only a question of time.
Every one had worked at the construction of the mill, and on the 1st
of December it was finished. As usual, Pencroft was delighted with his
work, and had no doubt that the apparatus was perfect.
"Now for a good wind," said he, "and we shall grind our first harvest
splendidly!"
"A good wind, certainly," answered the engineer, "but not too much,
Pencroft."
"Pooh! our mill would only go the faster!"
"There is no need for it to go so very fast," replied Cyrus Harding.
"It is known by experience that the greatest quantity of work is
performed by a mill when the number of turns made by the sails in a
minute is six times the number of feet traversed by the wind in a
second. A moderate breeze, which passes over twenty-four feet to the
second, will give sixteen turns to the sails during a minute, and
there is no need of more."
"Exactly!" cried Herbert; "a fine breeze is blowing from the
north-east, which will soon do our business for us."
There was no reason for delaying the inauguration of the mill, for the
settlers were eager to taste the first piece of bread in Lincoln
Island. On this morning two or three bushels of wheat were ground, and
the next day at breakfast a magnificent loaf, a little heavy perhaps,
although raised with yeast, appeared on the table at Granite House.
Every one munched away at it with a pleasure which may be easily
understood.
In the meanwhile, the stranger had not reappeared. Several times
Gideon Spilett and Herbert searched the forest in the neighbourhood of
Granite House, without meeting or finding any trace of him. They
became seriously uneasy at this prolonged absence. Certainly, the
former savage of Tabor Island could not be perplexed how to live in
the forest, abounding in game, but was it not to be feared that he had
resumed his habits, and that this freedom would revive in him his wild
instincts? However, Harding, by a sort of presentiment, doubtless,
always persisted in saying that the fugitive would return.
"Yes, he will return!" he repeated with a confidence which his
companions could not share. "When this unfortunate man was on Tabor
Island, he knew himself to be alone! Here, he knows that fellow men
are awaiting him! Since he has partially spoken of his past life, the
poor penitent will return to tell the whole, and from that day he will
belong to us!"
The event justified Cyrus Harding's predictions. On the 3rd of
December, Herbert had left the plateau to go and fish on the southern
bank of the lake. He was unarmed, and till then had never taken any
precautions for defence as dangerous animals had not shown themselves
on that part of the island.
Meanwhile, Pencroft and Neb were working in the poultry-yard, whilst
Harding and the reporter were occupied at the Chimneys in making soda,
the store of soap being exhausted.
Suddenly cries resounded,--
"Help! help!"
Cyrus Harding and the reporter, being at too great a distance, had not
been able to hear the shouts. Pencroft and Neb, leaving the
poultry-yard in all haste, rushed towards the lake.
[Illustration: NOW FOR A GOOD WIND]
But before them, the stranger, whose presence at this place no one had
suspected, crossed Creek Glycerine, which separated the plateau from
the forest, and bounded up the opposite bank.
Herbert was there face to face with a fierce jaguar, similar to the
one which had been killed on Reptile End. Suddenly surprised, he was
standing with his back against a tree, whilst the animal, gathering
itself together, was about to spring.
But the stranger, with no other weapon than a knife, rushed on the
formidable animal, who turned to meet this new adversary.
The struggle was short. The stranger possessed immense strength and
activity. He seized the jaguar's throat with one powerful hand,
holding it as in a vice, without heeding the beast's claws which tore
his flesh, and with the other he plunged his knife into its heart.
The jaguar fell. The stranger kicked away the body, and was about to
fly at the moment when the settlers arrived on the field of battle,
but Herbert, clinging to him, cried,--
"No, no! You shall not go!"
Harding advanced towards the stranger, who frowned when he saw him
approaching. The blood flowed from his shoulder under his torn shirt,
but he took no notice of it.
"My friend," said Cyrus Harding, "we have just contracted a debt of
gratitude to you. To save our boy you have risked your life!"
"My life!" murmured the stranger "What is that worth? Less than
nothing!"
"You are wounded!"
"It is no matter."
"Will you give me your hand?"
And as Herbert endeavoured to seize the hand which had just saved him,
the stranger folded his arms, his chest heaved, his look darkened, and
he appeared to wish to escape, but making a violent effort over
himself, and in an abrupt tone,--
"Who are you?" he asked, "and what do you claim to be to me?"
It was the colonists' history which he thus demanded, and for the
first time. Perhaps this history recounted, he would tell his own.
[Illustration: HE SEIZED THE JAGUAR'S THROAT WITH ONE POWERFUL HAND]
In a few words Harding related all that had happened since their
departure from Richmond; how they had managed, and what resources they
now had at their disposal.
The stranger listened with extreme attention.
Then the engineer told who they all were, Gideon Spilett, Herbert,
Pencroft, Neb, himself; and he added, that the greatest happiness they
had felt since their arrival in Lincoln Island was on the return of
the vessel from Tabor Island, when they had been able to include
amongst them a new companion.
At these words the stranger's face flushed, his head sunk on his
breast, and confusion was depicted on his countenance.
"And now that you know us," added Cyrus Harding, "will you give us
your hand?"
"No," replied the stranger in a hoarse voice; "no! You are honest men,
you! And I--"
CHAPTER XVII
Still alone -- The Stranger's Request -- The Farm established
at the Corral -- Twelve Years ago -- The Boatswain's Mate of
the -Britannia- -- Left on Tabor Island -- Cyrus Harding's
Hand -- The mysterious Document.
These last words justified the colonists' presentiment. There had been
some mournful past, perhaps expiated in the sight of men, but from
which his conscience had not yet absolved him. At any rate the guilty
man felt remorse, he repented, and his new friends would have
cordially pressed the hand which they sought; but he did not feel
himself worthy to extend it to honest men! However, after the scene
with the jaguar, he did not return to the forest, and from that day
did not go beyond the enclosure of Granite House.
What was the mystery of his life? Would the stranger one day speak of
it? Time alone could show. At any rate, it was agreed that his secret
should never be asked from him, and that they would live with him as
if they suspected nothing.
For some days their life continued as before. Cyrus Harding and
Gideon Spilett worked together, sometimes chemists, sometimes
experimentalists. The reporter never left the engineer except to hunt
with Herbert, for it would not have been prudent to allow the lad to
ramble alone in the forest; and it was very necessary to be on
their guard. As to Neb and Pencroft, one day at the stables and
poultry-yard, another at the corral, without reckoning work in Granite
House, they were never in want of employment.
The stranger worked alone, and he had resumed his usual life, never
appearing at meals, sleeping under the trees in the plateau, never
mingling with his companions. It really seemed as if the society of
those who had saved him was insupportable to him!
"But then," observed Pencroft, "why did he entreat the help of his
fellow-creatures? Why did he throw that paper into the sea?"
"He will tell us why," invariably replied Cyrus Harding.
"When?"
"Perhaps sooner than you think, Pencroft."
And, indeed, the day of confession was near.
On the 10th of December, a week after his return to Granite House,
Harding saw the stranger approaching, who, in a calm voice and humble
tone, said to him: "Sir, I have a request to make you."
"Speak," answered the engineer; "but first let me ask you a question."
At these words the stranger reddened, and was on the point of
withdrawing. Cyrus Harding understood what was passing in the mind of
the guilty man, who doubtless feared that the engineer would
interrogate him on his past life.
Harding held him back.
"Comrade," said he, "we are not only your companions but your friends.
I wish you to believe that, and now I will listen to you."
The stranger pressed his hand over his eyes. He was seized with a sort
of trembling, and remained a few moments without being able to
articulate a word.
"Sir," said he at last, "I have come to beg you to grant me a favour."
"What is it?"
"You have, four or five miles from here, a corral for your
domesticated animals. These animals need to be taken care of. Will you
allow me to live there with them?"
Cyrus Harding gazed at the unfortunate man for a few moments with a
feeling of deep commiseration; then,--
"My friend," said he, "the corral has only stables hardly fit for
animals."
"It will be good enough for me, sir."
"My friend," answered Harding, "we will not constrain you in anything.
You wish to live at the corral, so be it. You will, however, be always
welcome at Granite House. But since you wish to live at the corral we
will make the necessary arrangements for your being comfortably
established there."
"Never mind that, I shall do very well."
"My friend," answered Harding, who always intentionally made use of
this cordial appellation, "you must let us judge what it will be best
to do in this respect."
"Thank you, sir," replied the stranger as he withdrew.
The engineer then made known to his companions the proposal which had
been made to him, and it was agreed that they should build a wooden
house at the corral, which they would make as comfortable as possible.
That very day the colonists repaired to the corral with the necessary
tools, and a week had not passed before the house was ready to receive
its tenant. It was built about twenty feet from the sheds, and from
there it was easy to overlook the flock of sheep, which then numbered
more than eighty. Some furniture, a bed, table, bench, cupboard, and
chest, were manufactured, and a gun, ammunition, and tools were
carried to the corral.
The stranger, however, had seen nothing of his new dwelling, and he
had allowed the settlers to work there without him, whilst he occupied
himself on the plateau, wishing, doubtless, to put the finishing
stroke to his work. Indeed, thanks to him, all the ground was dug up
and ready to be sowed when the time came.
It was on the 20th of December that all the arrangements at the corral
were completed. The engineer announced to the stranger that his
dwelling was ready to receive him, and the latter replied that he
would go and sleep there that very evening.
On this evening the colonists were gathered in the dining-room of
Granite House. It was then eight o'clock, the hour at which their
companion was to leave them. Not wishing to trouble him by their
presence, and thus imposing on him the necessity of saying farewells
which might perhaps be painful to him, they had left him alone, and
ascended to Granite House.
Now, they had been talking in the room for a few minutes, when a light
knock was heard at the door. Almost immediately the stranger entered,
and without any preamble,--
"Gentlemen," said he, "before I leave you, it is right that you should
know my history. I will tell it you."
These simple words profoundly impressed Cyrus Harding and his
companions.
The engineer rose.
"We ask you nothing, my friend," said he, "it is your right to be
silent."
"It is my duty to speak."
"Sit down, then."
"No, I will stand."
"We are ready to hear you," replied Harding.
The stranger remained standing in a corner of the room, a little in
the shade. He was bareheaded, his arms folded across his chest, and it
was in this posture that in a hoarse voice, speaking like some one who
obliges himself to speak, he gave the following recital, which his
auditors did not once interrupt---
"On the 20th of December, 1854, a steam-yacht, belonging to a Scotch
nobleman, Lord Glenarvan, anchored off Cape Bermouilli, on the western
coast of Australia, in the thirty-seventh parallel. On board this
yacht were Lord Glenarvan and his wife, a major in the English army, a
French geographer, a young girl, and a young boy. These two last were
the children of Captain Grant, whose ship, the -Britannia-, had been
lost, crew and cargo, a year before. The -Duncan- was commanded by
Captain John Mangles, and manned by a crew of fifteen men.
"This is the reason the yacht at this time lay off the coast of
Australia. Six months before, a bottle, enclosing a document written
in English, German, and French, had been found in the Irish sea, and
picked up by the -Duncan-. This document stated in substance that
there still existed three survivors from the wreck of the -Britannia-,
that these survivors were Captain Grant and two of his men, and that
they had found refuge on some land, of which the document gave the
latitude, but of which the longitude, effaced by the sea, was no
longer legible.
[Illustration: THE STRANGER'S STORY]
"This latitude was 37° 11´ south, therefore, the longitude being
unknown, if they followed the thirty-seventh parallel over continents
and seas, they would be certain to reach the spot inhabited by Captain
Grant and his two companions. The English Admiralty having hesitated
to undertake this search, Lord Glenarvan resolved to attempt
everything to find the captain. He communicated with Mary and Robert
Grant, who joined him. The -Duncan- yacht was equipped for the distant
voyage, in which the nobleman's family and the captain's children
wished to take part; and the -Duncan-, leaving Glasgow, proceeded
towards the Atlantic, passed through the Straits of Magellan, and
ascended the Pacific as far as Patagonia, where, according to a
previous interpretation of the document, they supposed that Captain
Grant was a prisoner among the Indians.
"The -Duncan- disembarked her passengers on the western coast of
Patagonia, and sailed to pick them up again on the eastern coast at
Cape Corrientes. Lord Glenarvan traversed Patagonia, following the
thirty-seventh parallel, and having found no trace of the captain, he
re-embarked on the 13th of November, so as to pursue his search
through the Ocean.
"After having unsuccessfully visited the islands of Tristan d'Acunha
and Amsterdam, situated in her course, the -Duncan-, as I have said,
arrived at Cape Bermouilli, on the Australian coast, on the 20th of
December, 1854.
"It was Lord Glenarvan's intention to traverse Australia as he had
traversed America, and he disembarked. A few miles from the coast was
established a farm, belonging to an Irishman, who offered hospitality
to the travellers. Lord Glenarvan made known to the Irishman the cause
which had brought him to these parts, and asked if he knew whether a
three-masted English vessel, the -Britannia-, had been lost less than
two years before on the west coast of Australia.
"The Irishman had never heard of this wreck; but, to the great
surprise of the bystanders, one of his servants came forward and
said,--
"'My lord, praise and thank God! If Captain Grant is still living, he
is living on the Australian shores.'
"'Who are you?' asked Lord Glenarvan.
"'A Scotchman like yourself, my lord,' replied the man; 'I am one of
Captain Grant's crew--one of the castaways of the -Britannia-.'
"This man was called Ayrton. He was, in fact, the boatswain's mate of
the -Britannia-, as his papers showed. But, separated from Captain
Grant at the moment when the ship struck upon the rocks, he had till
then believed that the captain with all his crew had perished, and
that he, Ayrton, was the sole survivor of the -Britannia-.
"'Only,' added he, 'it was not on the west coast, but on the east
coast of Australia that the vessel was lost; and if Captain Grant is
still living, as his document indicates, he is a prisoner among the
natives, and it is on the other coast that he must be looked for.'
"This man spoke in a frank voice and with a confident look; his words
could not be doubted. The Irishman, in whose service he had been for
more than a year, answered for his trustworthiness. Lord Glenarvan,
therefore, believed in the fidelity of this man, and, by his advice,
resolved to cross Australia, following the thirty-seventh parallel.
Lord Glenarvan, his wife, the two children, the major, the Frenchman,
Captain Mangles, and a few sailors composed the little band under the
command of Ayrton, whilst the -Duncan-, under charge of the mate, Tom
Austin, proceeded to Melbourne, there to await Lord Glenarvan's
instructions.
"They set out on the 23rd of December, 1854.
"It is time to say that Ayrton was a traitor. He was, indeed, the
boatswain's mate of the -Britannia-; but, after some dispute with his
captain, he had endeavoured to incite the crew to mutiny and seize the
ship, and Captain Grant had landed him, on the 8th of April, 1852, on
the west coast of Australia, and then sailed, leaving him there, as
was only just.
"Therefore this wretched man knew nothing of the wreck of the
-Britannia-; he had just heard of it from Glenarvan's account. Since
his abandonment, he had become, under the name of Ben Joyce, the
leader of the escaped convicts; and if he boldly maintained that the
wreck had taken place on the east coast, and led Lord Glenarvan to
proceed in that direction, it was that he hoped to separate him from
his ship, seize the -Duncan-, and make the yacht a pirate in the
Pacific."
Here the stranger stopped for a moment. His voice trembled, but he
continued,--
"The expedition set out and proceeded across Australia. It was
inevitably unfortunate, since Ayrton, or Ben Joyce, as he may be
called, guided it, sometimes preceded, sometimes followed by his band
of convicts, who had been told what they had to do.
"Meanwhile the -Duncan- had been sent to Melbourne for repairs. It was
necessary, then, to get Lord Glenarvan to order her to leave Melbourne
and go to the east coast of Australia, where it would be easy to seize
her. After having led the expedition near enough to the coast, in the
midst of vast forests with no resources, Ayrton obtained a letter,
which he was charged to carry to the mate of the -Duncan---a letter
which ordered the yacht to repair immediately to the east coast, to
Twofold Bay, that is to say, a few days' journey from the place where
the expedition had stopped. It was there that Ayrton had agreed to
meet his accomplices, and two days after gaining possession of the
letter, he arrived at Melbourne.
"So far the villain had succeeded in his wicked design. He would be
able to take the -Duncan- into Twofold Bay, where it would be easy for
the convicts to seize her, and her crew massacred, Ben Joyce would
become master of the seas.... But it pleased God to prevent the
accomplishment of these terrible projects.
"Ayrton, arrived at Melbourne, delivered the letter to the mate, Tom
Austin, who read it and immediately set sail; but judge of Ayrton's
rage and disappointment, when the next day he found that the mate was
taking the vessel, not to the east coast of Australia, to Twofold Bay,
but to the east coast of New Zealand. He wished to stop him, but
Austin showed him the letter!... And indeed, by a providential error
of the French geographer, who had written the letter, the east coast
of New Zealand was mentioned as the place of destination.
"All Ayrton's plans were frustrated! He became outrageous. They put
him in irons. He was then taken to the coast of New Zealand, not
knowing what would become of his accomplices, or what would become of
Lord Glenarvan.
"The -Duncan- cruised about on this coast until the 3rd of March. On
that day Ayrton heard the report of guns. The guns of the -Duncan-
were being fired, and soon Lord Glenarvan and his companions came on
board.
"This is what had happened.
"After a thousand hardships, a thousand dangers, Lord Glenarvan had
accomplished his journey, and arrived on the east coast of Australia,
at Twofold Bay. 'No -Duncan-!' he telegraphed to Melbourne. They
answered, '-Duncan- sailed on the 18th instant. Destination unknown.'
"Lord Glenarvan could only arrive at one conclusion: that his honest
yacht had fallen into the hands of Ben Joyce, and had become a pirate
vessel!
"However, Lord Glenarvan would not give up. He was a bold and generous
man. He embarked in a merchant vessel, sailed to the west coast of New
Zealand, traversed it along the thirty-seventh parallel, without
.
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