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Title: The Mysterious Island

Author: Jules Verne

Translator: Agnes Kinloch Kingston

Release date: April 1, 1998 [eBook #1268]
Most recently updated: October 29, 2024

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1268

Credits: Anthony Matonak

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE
MYSTERIOUS ISLAND ***

THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND

by Jules Verne
1874

CONTENTS
PART 1. DROPPED FROM THE CLOUDS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19

Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22

PART 2. ABANDONED
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18

Chapter 19
Chapter 20

PART 3. THE SECRET OF THE ISLAND
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19

Chapter 20

PART 1—DROPPED FROM THE CLOUDS

Chapter 1
“Are we rising again?” “No. On the contrary.” “Are we descending?”
“Worse than that, captain! we are falling!” “For Heaven’s sake heave out
the ballast!” “There! the last sack is empty!” “Does the balloon rise?”
“No!” “I hear a noise like the dashing of waves. The sea is below the car! It
cannot be more than 500 feet from us!” “Overboard with every weight! ...
everything!”
Such were the loud and startling words which resounded through the air,
above the vast watery desert of the Pacific, about four o’clock in the
evening of the 23rd of March, 1865.
Few can possibly have forgotten the terrible storm from the northeast, in
the middle of the equinox of that year. The tempest raged without
intermission from the 18th to the 26th of March. Its ravages were terrible in
America, Europe, and Asia, covering a distance of eighteen hundred miles,
and extending obliquely to the equator from the thirty-fifth north parallel to
the fortieth south parallel. Towns were overthrown, forests uprooted, coasts
devastated by the mountains of water which were precipitated on them,
vessels cast on the shore, which the published accounts numbered by
hundreds, whole districts leveled by waterspouts which destroyed
everything they passed over, several thousand people crushed on land or
drowned at sea; such were the traces of its fury, left by this devastating
tempest. It surpassed in disasters those which so frightfully ravaged Havana
and Guadalupe, one on the 25th of October, 1810, the other on the 26th of
July, 1825.
But while so many catastrophes were taking place on land and at sea, a
drama not less exciting was being enacted in the agitated air.
In fact, a balloon, as a ball might be carried on the summit of a
waterspout, had been taken into the circling movement of a column of air
and had traversed space at the rate of ninety miles an hour, turning round
and round as if seized by some aerial maelstrom.
Beneath the lower point of the balloon swung a car, containing five
passengers, scarcely visible in the midst of the thick vapor mingled with

spray which hung over the surface of the ocean.
Whence, it may be asked, had come that plaything of the tempest? From
what part of the world did it rise? It surely could not have started during the
storm. But the storm had raged five days already, and the first symptoms
were manifested on the 18th. It cannot be doubted that the balloon came
from a great distance, for it could not have traveled less than two thousand
miles in twenty-four hours.
At any rate the passengers, destitute of all marks for their guidance, could
not have possessed the means of reckoning the route traversed since their
departure. It was a remarkable fact that, although in the very midst of the
furious tempest, they did not suffer from it. They were thrown about and
whirled round and round without feeling the rotation in the slightest degree,
or being sensible that they were removed from a horizontal position.
Their eyes could not pierce through the thick mist which had gathered
beneath the car. Dark vapor was all around them. Such was the density of
the atmosphere that they could not be certain whether it was day or night.
No reflection of light, no sound from inhabited land, no roaring of the ocean
could have reached them, through the obscurity, while suspended in those
elevated zones. Their rapid descent alone had informed them of the dangers
which they ran from the waves. However, the balloon, lightened of heavy
articles, such as ammunition, arms, and provisions, had risen into the higher
layers of the atmosphere, to a height of 4,500 feet. The voyagers, after
having discovered that the sea extended beneath them, and thinking the
dangers above less dreadful than those below, did not hesitate to throw
overboard even their most useful articles, while they endeavored to lose no
more of that fluid, the life of their enterprise, which sustained them above
the abyss.
The night passed in the midst of alarms which would have been death to
less energetic souls. Again the day appeared and with it the tempest began
to moderate. From the beginning of that day, the 24th of March, it showed
symptoms of abating. At dawn, some of the lighter clouds had risen into the
more lofty regions of the air. In a few hours the wind had changed from a
hurricane to a fresh breeze, that is to say, the rate of the transit of the
atmospheric layers was diminished by half. It was still what sailors call “a
close-reefed topsail breeze,” but the commotion in the elements had none
the less considerably diminished.

Towards eleven o’clock, the lower region of the air was sensibly clearer.
The atmosphere threw off that chilly dampness which is felt after the
passage of a great meteor. The storm did not seem to have gone farther to
the west. It appeared to have exhausted itself. Could it have passed away in
electric sheets, as is sometimes the case with regard to the typhoons of the
Indian Ocean?
But at the same time, it was also evident that the balloon was again
slowly descending with a regular movement. It appeared as if it were, little
by little, collapsing, and that its case was lengthening and extending,
passing from a spherical to an oval form. Towards midday the balloon was
hovering above the sea at a height of only 2,000 feet. It contained 50,000
cubic feet of gas, and, thanks to its capacity, it could maintain itself a long
time in the air, although it should reach a great altitude or might be thrown
into a horizontal position.
Perceiving their danger, the passengers cast away the last articles which
still weighed down the car, the few provisions they had kept, everything,
even to their pocket-knives, and one of them, having hoisted himself on to
the circles which united the cords of the net, tried to secure more firmly the
lower point of the balloon.
It was, however, evident to the voyagers that the gas was failing, and that
the balloon could no longer be sustained in the higher regions. They must
infallibly perish!
There was not a continent, nor even an island, visible beneath them. The
watery expanse did not present a single speck of land, not a solid surface
upon which their anchor could hold.
It was the open sea, whose waves were still dashing with tremendous
violence! It was the ocean, without any visible limits, even for those whose
gaze, from their commanding position, extended over a radius of forty
miles. The vast liquid plain, lashed without mercy by the storm, appeared as
if covered with herds of furious chargers, whose white and disheveled crests
were streaming in the wind. No land was in sight, not a solitary ship could
be seen. It was necessary at any cost to arrest their downward course, and to
prevent the balloon from being engulfed in the waves. The voyagers
directed all their energies to this urgent work. But, notwithstanding their
efforts, the balloon still fell, and at the same time shifted with the greatest

rapidity, following the direction of the wind, that is to say, from the
northeast to the southwest.
Frightful indeed was the situation of these unfortunate men. They were
evidently no longer masters of the machine. All their attempts were useless.
The case of the balloon collapsed more and more. The gas escaped without
any possibility of retaining it. Their descent was visibly accelerated, and
soon after midday the car hung within 600 feet of the ocean.
It was impossible to prevent the escape of gas, which rushed through a
large rent in the silk. By lightening the car of all the articles which it
contained, the passengers had been able to prolong their suspension in the
air for a few hours. But the inevitable catastrophe could only be retarded,
and if land did not appear before night, voyagers, car, and balloon must to a
certainty vanish beneath the waves.
They now resorted to the only remaining expedient. They were truly
dauntless men, who knew how to look death in the face. Not a single
murmur escaped from their lips. They were determined to struggle to the
last minute, to do anything to retard their fall. The car was only a sort of
willow basket, unable to float, and there was not the slightest possibility of
maintaining it on the surface of the sea.
Two more hours passed and the balloon was scarcely 400 feet above the
water.
At that moment a loud voice, the voice of a man whose heart was
inaccessible to fear, was heard. To this voice responded others not less
determined. “Is everything thrown out?” “No, here are still 2,000 dollars in
gold.” A heavy bag immediately plunged into the sea. “Does the balloon
rise?” “A little, but it will not be long before it falls again.” “What still
remains to be thrown out?” “Nothing.” “Yes! the car!” “Let us catch hold of
the net, and into the sea with the car.”
This was, in fact, the last and only mode of lightening the balloon. The
ropes which held the car were cut, and the balloon, after its fall, mounted
2,000 feet. The five voyagers had hoisted themselves into the net, and clung
to the meshes, gazing at the abyss.
The delicate sensibility of balloons is well known. It is sufficient to throw
out the lightest article to produce a difference in its vertical position. The
apparatus in the air is like a balance of mathematical precision. It can be
thus easily understood that when it is lightened of any considerable weight

its movement will be impetuous and sudden. So it happened on this
occasion. But after being suspended for an instant aloft, the balloon began
to redescend, the gas escaping by the rent which it was impossible to repair.
The men had done all that men could do. No human efforts could save
them now.
They must trust to the mercy of Him who rules the elements.
At four o’clock the balloon was only 500 feet above the surface of the
water.
A loud barking was heard. A dog accompanied the voyagers, and was
held pressed close to his master in the meshes of the net.
“Top has seen something,” cried one of the men. Then immediately a
loud voice shouted,—
“Land! land!” The balloon, which the wind still drove towards the
southwest, had since daybreak gone a considerable distance, which might
be reckoned by hundreds of miles, and a tolerably high land had, in fact,
appeared in that direction. But this land was still thirty miles off. It would
not take less than an hour to get to it, and then there was the chance of
falling to leeward.
An hour! Might not the balloon before that be emptied of all the fluid it
yet retained?
Such was the terrible question! The voyagers could distinctly see that
solid spot which they must reach at any cost. They were ignorant of what it
was, whether an island or a continent, for they did not know to what part of
the world the hurricane had driven them. But they must reach this land,
whether inhabited or desolate, whether hospitable or not.
It was evident that the balloon could no longer support itself! Several
times already had the crests of the enormous billows licked the bottom of
the net, making it still heavier, and the balloon only half rose, like a bird
with a wounded wing. Half an hour later the land was not more than a mile
off, but the balloon, exhausted, flabby, hanging in great folds, had gas in its
upper part alone. The voyagers, clinging to the net, were still too heavy for
it, and soon, half plunged into the sea, they were beaten by the furious
waves. The balloon-case bulged out again, and the wind, taking it, drove it
along like a vessel. Might it not possibly thus reach the land?

But, when only two fathoms off, terrible cries resounded from four pairs
of lungs at once. The balloon, which had appeared as if it would never again
rise, suddenly made an unexpected bound, after having been struck by a
tremendous sea. As if it had been at that instant relieved of a new part of its
weight, it mounted to a height of 1,500 feet, and here it met a current of
wind, which instead of taking it directly to the coast, carried it in a nearly
parallel direction.
At last, two minutes later, it reproached obliquely, and finally fell on a
sandy beach, out of the reach of the waves.
The voyagers, aiding each other, managed to disengage themselves from
the meshes of the net. The balloon, relieved of their weight, was taken by
the wind, and like a wounded bird which revives for an instant, disappeared
into space.
But the car had contained five passengers, with a dog, and the balloon
only left four on the shore.
The missing person had evidently been swept off by the sea, which had
just struck the net, and it was owing to this circumstance that the lightened
balloon rose the last time, and then soon after reached the land. Scarcely
had the four castaways set foot on firm ground, than they all, thinking of the
absent one, simultaneously exclaimed, “Perhaps he will try to swim to land!
Let us save him! let us save him!”

Chapter 2
Those whom the hurricane had just thrown on this coast were neither
aeronauts by profession nor amateurs. They were prisoners of war whose
boldness had induced them to escape in this extraordinary manner.
A hundred times they had almost perished! A hundred times had they
almost fallen from their torn balloon into the depths of the ocean. But
Heaven had reserved them for a strange destiny, and after having, on the
20th of March, escaped from Richmond, besieged by the troops of General
Ulysses Grant, they found themselves seven thousand miles from the capital
of Virginia, which was the principal stronghold of the South, during the
terrible War of Secession. Their aerial voyage had lasted five days.
The curious circumstances which led to the escape of the prisoners were
as follows:
That same year, in the month of February, 1865, in one of the coups de
main by which General Grant attempted, though in vain, to possess himself
of Richmond, several of his officers fell into the power of the enemy and
were detained in the town. One of the most distinguished was Captain
Cyrus Harding. He was a native of Massachusetts, a first-class engineer, to
whom the government had confided, during the war, the direction of the
railways, which were so important at that time. A true Northerner, thin,
bony, lean, about forty-five years of age; his close-cut hair and his beard, of
which he only kept a thick mustache, were already getting gray. He had
one-of those finely-developed heads which appear made to be struck on a
medal, piercing eyes, a serious mouth, the physiognomy of a clever man of
the military school. He was one of those engineers who began by handling
the hammer and pickaxe, like generals who first act as common soldiers.
Besides mental power, he also possessed great manual dexterity. His
muscles exhibited remarkable proofs of tenacity. A man of action as well as
a man of thought, all he did was without effort to one of his vigorous and
sanguine temperament. Learned, clear-headed, and practical, he fulfilled in
all emergencies those three conditions which united ought to insure human
success—activity of mind and body, impetuous wishes, and powerful will.
He might have taken for his motto that of William of Orange in the 17th

century: “I can undertake and persevere even without hope of success.”
Cyrus Harding was courage personified. He had been in all the battles of
that war. After having begun as a volunteer at Illinois, under Ulysses Grant,
he fought at Paducah, Belmont, Pittsburg Landing, at the siege of Corinth,
Port Gibson, Black River, Chattanooga, the Wilderness, on the Potomac,
everywhere and valiantly, a soldier worthy of the general who said, “I never
count my dead!” And hundreds of times Captain Harding had almost been
among those who were not counted by the terrible Grant; but in these
combats where he never spared himself, fortune favored him till the
moment when he was wounded and taken prisoner on the field of battle
near Richmond. At the same time and on the same day another important
personage fell into the hands of the Southerners. This was no other than
Gideon Spilett, a reporter for the New York Herald, who had been ordered
to follow the changes of the war in the midst of the Northern armies.
Gideon Spilett was one of that race of indomitable English or American
chroniclers, like Stanley and others, who stop at nothing to obtain exact
information, and transmit it to their journal in the shortest possible time.
The newspapers of the Union, such as the New York Herald, are genuine
powers, and their reporters are men to be reckoned with. Gideon Spilett
ranked among the first of those reporters: a man of great merit, energetic,
prompt and ready for anything, full of ideas, having traveled over the whole
world, soldier and artist, enthusiastic in council, resolute in action, caring
neither for trouble, fatigue, nor danger, when in pursuit of information, for
himself first, and then for his journal, a perfect treasury of knowledge on all
sorts of curious subjects, of the unpublished, of the unknown, and of the
impossible. He was one of those intrepid observers who write under fire,
“reporting” among bullets, and to whom every danger is welcome.
He also had been in all the battles, in the first rank, revolver in one hand,
note-book in the other; grape-shot never made his pencil tremble. He did
not fatigue the wires with incessant telegrams, like those who speak when
they have nothing to say, but each of his notes, short, decisive, and clear,
threw light on some important point. Besides, he was not wanting in humor.
It was he who, after the affair of the Black River, determined at any cost to
keep his place at the wicket of the telegraph office, and after having
announced to his journal the result of the battle, telegraphed for two hours
the first chapters of the Bible. It cost the New York Herald two thousand
dollars, but the New York Herald published the first intelligence.

Gideon Spilett was tall. He was rather more than forty years of age. Light
whiskers bordering on red surrounded his face. His eye was steady, lively,
rapid in its changes. It was the eye of a man accustomed to take in at a
glance all the details of a scene. Well built, he was inured to all climates,
like a bar of steel hardened in cold water.
For ten years Gideon Spilett had been the reporter of the New York
Herald, which he enriched by his letters and drawings, for he was as skilful
in the use of the pencil as of the pen. When he was captured, he was in the
act of making a description and sketch of the battle. The last words in his
note-book were these: “A Southern rifleman has just taken aim at me, but
—” The Southerner notwithstanding missed Gideon Spilett, who, with his
usual fortune, came out of this affair without a scratch.
Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett, who did not know each other except
by reputation, had both been carried to Richmond. The engineer’s wounds
rapidly healed, and it was during his convalescence that he made
acquaintance with the reporter. The two men then learned to appreciate each
other. Soon their common aim had but one object, that of escaping,
rejoining Grant’s army, and fighting together in the ranks of the Federals.
The two Americans had from the first determined to seize every chance;
but although they were allowed to wander at liberty in the town, Richmond
was so strictly guarded, that escape appeared impossible. In the meanwhile
Captain Harding was rejoined by a servant who was devoted to him in life
and in death. This intrepid fellow was a Negro born on the engineer’s
estate, of a slave father and mother, but to whom Cyrus, who was an
Abolitionist from conviction and heart, had long since given his freedom.
The once slave, though free, would not leave his master. He would have
died for him. He was a man of about thirty, vigorous, active, clever,
intelligent, gentle, and calm, sometimes naive, always merry, obliging, and
honest. His name was Nebuchadnezzar, but he only answered to the familiar
abbreviation of Neb.
When Neb heard that his master had been made prisoner, he left
Massachusetts without hesitating an instant, arrived before Richmond, and
by dint of stratagem and shrewdness, after having risked his life twenty
times over, managed to penetrate into the besieged town. The pleasure of
Harding on seeing his servant, and the joy of Neb at finding his master, can
scarcely be described.

But though Neb had been able to make his way into Richmond, it was
quite another thing to get out again, for the Northern prisoners were very
strictly watched. Some extraordinary opportunity was needed to make the
attempt with any chance of success, and this opportunity not only did not
present itself, but was very difficult to find.
Meanwhile Grant continued his energetic operations. The victory of
Petersburg had been very dearly bought. His forces, united to those of
Butler, had as yet been unsuccessful before Richmond, and nothing gave the
prisoners any hope of a speedy deliverance.
The reporter, to whom his tedious captivity did not offer a single incident
worthy of note, could stand it no longer. His usually active mind was
occupied with one sole thought—how he might get out of Richmond at any
cost. Several times had he even made the attempt, but was stopped by some
insurmountable obstacle. However, the siege continued; and if the prisoners
were anxious to escape and join Grant’s army, certain of the besieged were
no less anxious to join the Southern forces. Among them was one Jonathan
Forster, a determined Southerner. The truth was, that if the prisoners of the
Secessionists could not leave the town, neither could the Secessionists
themselves while the Northern army invested it. The Governor of
Richmond for a long time had been unable to communicate with General
Lee, and he very much wished to make known to him the situation of the
town, so as to hasten the march of the army to their relief. Thus Jonathan
Forster accordingly conceived the idea of rising in a balloon, so as to pass
over the besieging lines, and in that way reach the Secessionist camp.
The Governor authorized the attempt. A balloon was manufactured and
placed at the disposal of Forster, who was to be accompanied by five other
persons. They were furnished with arms in case they might have to defend
themselves when they alighted, and provisions in the event of their aerial
voyage being prolonged.
The departure of the balloon was fixed for the 18th of March. It should
be effected during the night, with a northwest wind of moderate force, and
the aeronauts calculated that they would reach General Lee’s camp in a few
hours.
But this northwest wind was not a simple breeze. From the 18th it was
evident that it was changing to a hurricane. The tempest soon became such

that Forster’s departure was deferred, for it was impossible to risk the
balloon and those whom it carried in the midst of the furious elements.
The balloon, inflated on the great square of Richmond, was ready to
depart on the first abatement of the wind, and, as may be supposed, the
impatience among the besieged to see the storm moderate was very great.
The 18th, the 19th of March passed without any alteration in the weather.
There was even great difficulty in keeping the balloon fastened to the
ground, as the squalls dashed it furiously about.
The night of the 19th passed, but the next morning the storm blew with
redoubled force. The departure of the balloon was impossible.
On that day the engineer, Cyrus Harding, was accosted in one of the
streets of Richmond by a person whom he did not in the least know. This
was a sailor named Pencroft, a man of about thirty-five or forty years of
age, strongly built, very sunburnt, and possessed of a pair of bright
sparkling eyes and a remarkably good physiognomy. Pencroft was an
American from the North, who had sailed all the ocean over, and who had
gone through every possible and almost impossible adventure that a being
with two feet and no wings would encounter. It is needless to say that he
was a bold, dashing fellow, ready to dare anything and was astonished at
nothing. Pencroft at the beginning of the year had gone to Richmond on
business, with a young boy of fifteen from New Jersey, son of a former
captain, an orphan, whom he loved as if he had been his own child. Not
having been able to leave the town before the first operations of the siege,
he found himself shut up, to his great disgust; but, not accustomed to
succumb to difficulties, he resolved to escape by some means or other. He
knew the engineer-officer by reputation; he knew with what impatience that
determined man chafed under his restraint. On this day he did not,
therefore, hesitate to accost him, saying, without circumlocution, “Have you
had enough of Richmond, captain?”
The engineer looked fixedly at the man who spoke, and who added, in a
low voice,—
“Captain Harding, will you try to escape?”
“When?” asked the engineer quickly, and it was evident that this question
was uttered without consideration, for he had not yet examined the stranger
who addressed him. But after having with a penetrating eye observed the

open face of the sailor, he was convinced that he had before him an honest
man.
“Who are you?” he asked briefly.
Pencroft made himself known.
“Well,” replied Harding, “and in what way do you propose to escape?”
“By that lazy balloon which is left there doing nothing, and which looks
to me as if it was waiting on purpose for us—”
There was no necessity for the sailor to finish his sentence. The engineer
understood him at once. He seized Pencroft by the arm, and dragged him to
his house. There the sailor developed his project, which was indeed
extremely simple. They risked nothing but their lives in its execution. The
hurricane was in all its violence, it is true, but so clever and daring an
engineer as Cyrus Harding knew perfectly well how to manage a balloon.
Had he himself been as well acquainted with the art of sailing in the air as
he was with the navigation of a ship, Pencroft would not have hesitated to
set out, of course taking his young friend Herbert with him; for, accustomed
to brave the fiercest tempests of the ocean, he was not to be hindered on
account of the hurricane.
Captain Harding had listened to the sailor without saying a word, but his
eyes shone with satisfaction. Here was the long-sought-for opportunity—he
was not a man to let it pass. The plan was feasible, though, it must be
confessed, dangerous in the extreme. In the night, in spite of their guards,
they might approach the balloon, slip into the car, and then cut the cords
which held it. There was no doubt that they might be killed, but on the other
hand they might succeed, and without this storm!—Without this storm the
balloon would have started already and the looked-for opportunity would
not have then presented itself.
“I am not alone!” said Harding at last.
“How many people do you wish to bring with you?” asked the sailor.
“Two; my friend Spilett, and my servant Neb.”
“That will be three,” replied Pencroft; “and with Herbert and me five.
But the balloon will hold six—”
“That will be enough, we will go,” answered Harding in a firm voice.

This “we” included Spilett, for the reporter, as his friend well knew, was
not a man to draw back, and when the project was communicated to him he
approved of it unreservedly. What astonished him was, that so simple an
idea had not occurred to him before. As to Neb, he followed his master
wherever his master wished to go.
“This evening, then,” said Pencroft, “we will all meet out there.”
“This evening, at ten o’clock,” replied Captain Harding; “and Heaven
grant that the storm does not abate before our departure.”
Pencroft took leave of the two friends, and returned to his lodging, where
young Herbert Brown had remained. The courageous boy knew of the
sailor’s plan, and it was not without anxiety that he awaited the result of the
proposal being made to the engineer. Thus five determined persons were
about to abandon themselves to the mercy of the tempestuous elements!
No! the storm did not abate, and neither Jonathan Forster nor his
companions dreamed of confronting it in that frail car.
It would be a terrible journey. The engineer only feared one thing; it was
that the balloon, held to the ground and dashed about by the wind, would be
torn into shreds. For several hours he roamed round the nearly-deserted
square, surveying the apparatus. Pencroft did the same on his side, his
hands in his pockets, yawning now and then like a man who did not know
how to kill the time, but really dreading, like his friend, either the escape or
destruction of the balloon. Evening arrived. The night was dark in the
extreme. Thick mists passed like clouds close to the ground. Rain fell
mingled with snow, it was very cold. A mist hung over Richmond. It
seemed as if the violent storm had produced a truce between the besiegers
and the besieged, and that the cannon were silenced by the louder
detonations of the storm. The streets of the town were deserted. It had not
even appeared necessary in that horrible weather to place a guard in the
square, in the midst of which plunged the balloon. Everything favored the
departure of the prisoners, but what might possibly be the termination of the
hazardous voyage they contemplated in the midst of the furious elements?
—
“Dirty weather!” exclaimed Pencroft, fixing his hat firmly on his head
with a blow of his fist; “but pshaw, we shall succeed all the same!”
At half-past nine, Harding and his companions glided from different
directions into the square, which the gas-lamps, extinguished by the wind,

had left in total obscurity. Even the enormous balloon, almost beaten to the
ground, could not be seen. Independently of the sacks of ballast, to which
the cords of the net were fastened, the car was held by a strong cable passed
through a ring in the pavement. The five prisoners met by the car. They had
not been perceived, and such was the darkness that they could not even see
each other.
Without speaking a word, Harding, Spilett, Neb, and Herbert took their
places in the car, while Pencroft by the engineer’s order detached
successively the bags of ballast. It was the work of a few minutes only, and
the sailor rejoined his companions.
The balloon was then only held by the cable, and the engineer had
nothing to do but to give the word.
At that moment a dog sprang with a bound into the car. It was Top, a
favorite of the engineer. The faithful creature, having broken his chain, had
followed his master. He, however, fearing that its additional weight might
impede their ascent, wished to send away the animal.
“One more will make but little difference, poor beast!” exclaimed
Pencroft, heaving out two bags of sand, and as he spoke letting go the
cable; the balloon ascending in an oblique direction, disappeared, after
having dashed the car against two chimneys, which it threw down as it
swept by them.
Then, indeed, the full rage of the hurricane was exhibited to the voyagers.
During the night the engineer could not dream of descending, and when day
broke, even a glimpse of the earth below was intercepted by fog.
Five days had passed when a partial clearing allowed them to see the
wide extending ocean beneath their feet, now lashed into the maddest fury
by the gale.
Our readers will recollect what befell these five daring individuals who
set out on their hazardous expedition in the balloon on the 20th of March.
Five days afterwards four of them were thrown on a desert coast, seven
thousand miles from their country! But one of their number was missing,
the man who was to be their guide, their leading spirit, the engineer,
Captain Harding! The instant they had recovered their feet, they all hurried
to the beach in the hopes of rendering him assistance.

Chapter 3
The engineer, the meshes of the net having given way, had been carried
off by a wave. His dog also had disappeared. The faithful animal had
voluntarily leaped out to help his master. “Forward,” cried the reporter; and
all four, Spilett, Herbert, Pencroft, and Neb, forgetting their fatigue, began
their search. Poor Neb shed bitter tears, giving way to despair at the thought
of having lost the only being he loved on earth.
Only two minutes had passed from the time when Cyrus Harding
disappeared to the moment when his companions set foot on the ground.
They had hopes therefore of arriving in time to save him. “Let us look for
him! let us look for him!” cried Neb.
“Yes, Neb,” replied Gideon Spilett, “and we will find him too!”
“Living, I trust!”
“Still living!”
“Can he swim?” asked Pencroft.
“Yes,” replied Neb, “and besides, Top is there.”
The sailor, observing the heavy surf on the shore, shook his head.
The engineer had disappeared to the north of the shore, and nearly half a
mile from the place where the castaways had landed. The nearest point of
the beach he could reach was thus fully that distance off.
It was then nearly six o’clock. A thick fog made the night very dark. The
castaways proceeded toward the north of the land on which chance had
thrown them, an unknown region, the geographical situation of which they
could not even guess. They were walking upon a sandy soil, mingled with
stones, which appeared destitute of any sort of vegetation. The ground, very
unequal and rough, was in some places perfectly riddled with holes, making
walking extremely painful. From these holes escaped every minute great
birds of clumsy flight, which flew in all directions. Others, more active,
rose in flocks and passed in clouds over their heads. The sailor thought he
recognized gulls and cormorants, whose shrill cries rose above the roaring
of the sea.

From time to time the castaways stopped and shouted, then listened for
some response from the ocean, for they thought that if the engineer had
landed, and they had been near to the place, they would have heard the
barking of the dog Top, even should Harding himself have been unable to
give any sign of existence. They stopped to listen, but no sound arose above
the roaring of the waves and the dashing of the surf. The little band then
continued their march forward, searching into every hollow of the shore.
After walking for twenty minutes, the four castaways were suddenly
brought to a standstill by the sight of foaming billows close to their feet.
The solid ground ended here. They found themselves at the extremity of a
sharp point on which the sea broke furiously.
“It is a promontory,” said the sailor; “we must retrace our steps, holding
towards the right, and we shall thus gain the mainland.”
“But if he is there,” said Neb, pointing to the ocean, whose waves shone
of a snowy white in the darkness. “Well, let us call again,” and all uniting
their voices, they gave a vigorous shout, but there came no reply. They
waited for a lull, then began again; still no reply.
The castaways accordingly returned, following the opposite side of the
promontory, over a soil equally sandy and rugged. However, Pencroft
observed that the shore was more equal, that the ground rose, and he
declared that it was joined by a long slope to a hill, whose massive front he
thought that he could see looming indistinctly through the mist. The birds
were less numerous on this part of the shore; the sea was also less
tumultuous, and they observed that the agitation of the waves was
diminished. The noise of the surf was scarcely heard. This side of the
promontory evidently formed a semicircular bay, which the sharp point
sheltered from the breakers of the open sea. But to follow this direction was
to go south, exactly opposite to that part of the coast where Harding might
have landed. After a walk of a mile and a half, the shore presented no curve
which would permit them to return to the north. This promontory, of which
they had turned the point, must be attached to the mainland. The castaways,
although their strength was nearly exhausted, still marched courageously
forward, hoping every moment to meet with a sudden angle which would
set them in the first direction. What was their disappointment, when, after
trudging nearly two miles, having reached an elevated point composed of
slippery rocks, they found themselves again stopped by the sea.

“We are on an islet,” said Pencroft, “and we have surveyed it from one
extremity to the other.”
The sailor was right; they had been thrown, not on a continent, not even
on an island, but on an islet which was not more than two miles in length,
with even a less breadth.
Was this barren spot the desolate refuge of sea-birds, strewn with stones
and destitute of vegetation, attached to a more important archipelago? It
was impossible to say. When the voyagers from their car saw the land
through the mist, they had not been able to reconnoiter it sufficiently.
However, Pencroft, accustomed with his sailor eyes to piece through the
gloom, was almost certain that he could clearly distinguish in the west
confused masses which indicated an elevated coast. But they could not in
the dark determine whether it was a single island, or connected with others.
They could not leave it either, as the sea surrounded them; they must
therefore put off till the next day their search for the engineer, from whom,
alas! not a single cry had reached them to show that he was still in
existence.
“The silence of our friend proves nothing,” said the reporter. “Perhaps he
has fainted or is wounded, and unable to reply directly, so we will not
despair.”
The reporter then proposed to light a fire on a point of the islet, which
would serve as a signal to the engineer. But they searched in vain for wood
or dry brambles; nothing but sand and stones were to be found. The grief of
Neb and his companions, who were all strongly attached to the intrepid
Harding, can be better pictured than described. It was too evident that they
were powerless to help him. They must wait with what patience they could
for daylight. Either the engineer had been able to save himself, and had
already found a refuge on some point of the coast, or he was lost for ever!
The long and painful hours passed by. The cold was intense. The castaways
suffered cruelly, but they scarcely perceived it. They did not even think of
taking a minute’s rest. Forgetting everything but their chief, hoping or
wishing to hope on, they continued to walk up and down on this sterile spot,
always returning to its northern point, where they could approach nearest to
the scene of the catastrophe. They listened, they called, and then uniting
their voices, they endeavored to raise even a louder shout than before,
which would be transmitted to a great distance. The wind had now fallen

almost to a calm, and the noise of the sea began also to subside. One of
Neb’s shouts even appeared to produce an echo. Herbert directed Pencroft’s
attention to it, adding, “That proves that there is a coast to the west, at no
great distance.” The sailor nodded; besides, his eyes could not deceive him.
If he had discovered land, however indistinct it might appear, land was sure
to be there. But that distant echo was the only response produced by Neb’s
shouts, while a heavy gloom hung over all the part east of the island.
Meanwhile, the sky was clearing little by little. Towards midnight the
stars shone out, and if the engineer had been there with his companions he
would have remarked that these stars did not belong to the Northern
Hemisphere. The Polar Star was not visible, the constellations were not
those which they had been accustomed to see in the United States; the
Southern Cross glittered brightly in the sky.
The night passed away. Towards five o’clock in the morning of the 25th
of March, the sky began to lighten; the horizon still remained dark, but with
daybreak a thick mist rose from the sea, so that the eye could scarcely
penetrate beyond twenty feet or so from where they stood. At length the fog
gradually unrolled itself in great heavily moving waves.
It was unfortunate, however, that the castaways could distinguish nothing
around them. While the gaze of the reporter and Neb were cast upon the
ocean, the sailor and Herbert looked eagerly for the coast in the west. But
not a speck of land was visible. “Never mind,” said Pencroft, “though I do
not see the land, I feel it... it is there... there... as sure as the fact that we are
no longer at Richmond.” But the fog was not long in rising. It was only a
fine-weather mist. A hot sun soon penetrated to the surface of the island.
About half-past six, three-quarters of an hour after sunrise, the mist became
more transparent. It grew thicker above, but cleared away below. Soon the
isle appeared as if it had descended from a cloud, then the sea showed itself
around them, spreading far away towards the east, but bounded on the west
by an abrupt and precipitous coast.
Yes! the land was there. Their safety was at least provisionally insured.
The islet and the coast were separated by a channel about half a mile in
breadth, through which rushed an extremely rapid current.
However, one of the castaways, following the impulse of his heart,
immediately threw himself into the current, without consulting his
companions, without saying a single word. It was Neb. He was in haste to

be on the other side, and to climb towards the north. It had been impossible
to hold him back. Pencroft called him in vain. The reporter prepared to
follow him, but Pencroft stopped him. “Do you want to cross the channel?”
he asked. “Yes,” replied Spilett. “All right!” said the seaman; “wait a bit;
Neb is well able to carry help to his master. If we venture into the channel,
we risk being carried into the open sea by the current, which is running very
strong; but, if I’m not wrong, it is ebbing. See, the tide is going down over
the sand. Let us have patience, and at low water it is possible we may find a
fordable passage.” “You are right,” replied the reporter, “we will not
separate more than we can help.”
During this time Neb was struggling vigorously against the current. He
was crossing in an oblique direction. His black shoulders could be seen
emerging at each stroke. He was carried down very quickly, but he also
made way towards the shore. It took more than half an hour to cross from
the islet to the land, and he reached the shore several hundred feet from the
place which was opposite to the point from which he had started.
Landing at the foot of a high wall of granite, he shook himself
vigorously; and then, setting off running, soon disappeared behind a rocky
point, which projected to nearly the height of the northern extremity of the
islet.
Neb’s companions had watched his daring attempt with painful anxiety,
and when he was out of sight, they fixed their attention on the land where
their hope of safety lay, while eating some shell-fish with which the sand
was strewn. It was a wretched repast, but still it was better than nothing.
The opposite coast formed one vast bay, terminating on the south by a very
sharp point, which was destitute of all vegetation, and was of a very wild
aspect. This point abutted on the shore in a grotesque outline of high granite
rocks. Towards the north, on the contrary, the bay widened, and a more
rounded coast appeared, trending from the southwest to the northeast, and
terminating in a slender cape. The distance between these two extremities,
which made the bow of the bay, was about eight miles. Half a mile from the
shore rose the islet, which somewhat resembled the carcass of a gigantic
whale. Its extreme breadth was not more than a quarter of a mile.
Opposite the islet, the beach consisted first of sand, covered with black
stones, which were now appearing little by little above the retreating tide.
The second level was separated by a perpendicular granite cliff, terminated

at the top by an unequal edge at a height of at least 300 feet. It continued
thus for a length of three miles, ending suddenly on the right with a
precipice which looked as if cut by the hand of man. On the left, above the
promontory, this irregular and jagged cliff descended by a long slope of
conglomerated rocks till it mingled with the ground of the southern point.
On the upper plateau of the coast not a tree appeared. It was a flat tableland
like that above Cape Town at the Cape of Good Hope, but of reduced
proportions; at least so it appeared seen from the islet. However, verdure
was not wanting to the right beyond the precipice. They could easily
distinguish a confused mass of great trees, which extended beyond the
limits of their view. This verdure relieved the eye, so long wearied by the
continued ranges of granite. Lastly, beyond and above the plateau, in a
northwesterly direction and at a distance of at least seven miles, glittered a
white summit which reflected the sun’s rays. It was that of a lofty mountain,
capped with snow.
The question could not at present be decided whether this land formed an
island, or whether it belonged to a continent. But on beholding the
convulsed masses heaped up on the left, no geologist would have hesitated
to give them a volcanic origin, for they were unquestionably the work of
subterranean convulsions.
Gideon Spilett, Pencroft, and Herbert attentively examined this land, on
which they might perhaps have to live many long years; on which indeed
they might even die, should it be out of the usual track of vessels, as was
likely to be the case.
“Well,” asked Herbert, “what do you say, Pencroft?”
“There is some good and some bad, as in everything,” replied the sailor.
“We shall see. But now the ebb is evidently making. In three hours we will
attempt the passage, and once on the other side, we will try to get out of this
scrape, and I hope may find the captain.” Pencroft was not wrong in his
anticipations. Three hours later at low tide, the greater part of the sand
forming the bed of the channel was uncovered. Between the islet and the
coast there only remained a narrow channel which would no doubt be easy
to cross.
About ten o’clock, Gideon Spilett and his companions stripped
themselves of their clothes, which they placed in bundles on their heads,
and then ventured into the water, which was not more than five feet deep.

Herbert, for whom it was too deep, swam like a fish, and got through
capitally. All three arrived without difficulty on the opposite shore. Quickly
drying themselves in the sun, they put on their clothes, which they had
preserved from contact with the water, and sat down to take counsel
together what to do next.

Chapter 4
All at once the reporter sprang up, and telling the sailor that he would
rejoin them at that same place, he climbed the cliff in the direction which
the Negro Neb had taken a few hours before. Anxiety hastened his steps, for
he longed to obtain news of his friend, and he soon disappeared round an
angle of the cliff. Herbert wished to accompany him.
“Stop here, my boy,” said the sailor; “we have to prepare an
encampment, and to try and find rather better grub than these shell-fish. Our
friends will want something when they come back. There is work for
everybody.”
“I am ready,” replied Herbert.
“All right,” said the sailor; “that will do. We must set about it regularly.
We are tired, cold, and hungry; therefore we must have shelter, fire, and
food. There is wood in the forest, and eggs in nests; we have only to find a
house.”
“Very well,” returned Herbert, “I will look for a cave among the rocks,
and I shall be sure to discover some hole into which we can creep.”
“All right,” said Pencroft; “go on, my boy.”
They both walked to the foot of the enormous wall over the beach, far
from which the tide had now retreated; but instead of going towards the
north, they went southward. Pencroft had remarked, several hundred feet
from the place at which they landed, a narrow cutting, out of which he
thought a river or stream might issue. Now, on the one hand it was
important to settle themselves in the neighborhood of a good stream of
water, and on the other it was possible that the current had thrown Cyrus
Harding on the shore there.
The cliff, as has been said, rose to a height of three hundred feet, but the
mass was unbroken throughout, and even at its base, scarcely washed by the
sea, it did not offer the smallest fissure which would serve as a dwelling. It
was a perpendicular wall of very hard granite, which even the waves had
not worn away. Towards the summit fluttered myriads of sea-fowl, and
especially those of the web-footed species with long, flat, pointed beaks—a

clamorous tribe, bold in the presence of man, who probably for the first
time thus invaded their domains. Pencroft recognized the skua and other
gulls among them, the voracious little sea-mew, which in great numbers
nestled in the crevices of the granite. A shot fired among this swarm would
have killed a great number, but to fire a shot a gun was needed, and neither
Pencroft nor Herbert had one; besides this, gulls and sea-mews are scarcely
eatable, and even their eggs have a detestable taste. However, Herbert, who
had gone forward a little more to the left, soon came upon rocks covered
with sea-weed, which, some hours later, would be hidden by the high tide.
On these rocks, in the midst of slippery wrack, abounded bivalve shell-fish,
not to be despised by starving people. Herbert called Pencroft, who ran up
hastily.
“Here are mussels!” cried the sailor; “these will do instead of eggs!”
“They are not mussels,” replied Herbert, who was attentively examining
the molluscs attached to the rocks; “they are lithodomes.”
“Are they good to eat?” asked Pencroft.
“Perfectly so.”
“Then let us eat some lithodomes.”
The sailor could rely upon Herbert; the young boy was well up in natural
history, and always had had quite a passion for the science. His father had
encouraged him in it, by letting him attend the lectures of the best
professors in Boston, who were very fond of the intelligent, industrious lad.
And his turn for natural history was, more than once in the course of time,
of great use, and he was not mistaken in this instance. These lithodomes
were oblong shells, suspended in clusters and adhering very tightly to the
rocks. They belong to that species of molluscous perforators which
excavate holes in the hardest stone; their shell is rounded at both ends, a
feature which is not remarked in the common mussel.
Pencroft and Herbert made a good meal of the lithodomes, which were
then half opened to the sun. They ate them as oysters, and as they had a
strong peppery taste, they were palatable without condiments of any sort.
Their hunger was thus appeased for the time, but not their thirst, which
increased after eating these naturally-spiced molluscs. They had then to find
fresh water, and it was not likely that it would be wanting in such a
capriciously uneven region. Pencroft and Herbert, after having taken the

precaution of collecting an ample supply of lithodomes, with which they
filled their pockets and handkerchiefs, regained the foot of the cliff.
Two hundred paces farther they arrived at the cutting, through which, as
Pencroft had guessed, ran a stream of water, whether fresh or not was to be
ascertained. At this place the wall appeared to have been separated by some
violent subterranean force. At its base was hollowed out a little creek, the
farthest part of which formed a tolerably sharp angle. The watercourse at
that part measured one hundred feet in breadth, and its two banks on each
side were scarcely twenty feet high. The river became strong almost directly
between the two walls of granite, which began to sink above the mouth; it
then suddenly turned and disappeared beneath a wood of stunted trees half a
mile off.
“Here is the water, and yonder is the wood we require!” said Pencroft.
“Well, Herbert, now we only want the house.”
The water of the river was limpid. The sailor ascertained that at this time
—that is to say, at low tide, when the rising floods did not reach it—it was
sweet. This important point established, Herbert looked for some cavity
which would serve them as a retreat, but in vain; everywhere the wall
appeared smooth, plain, and perpendicular.
However, at the mouth of the watercourse and above the reach of the
high tide, the convulsions of nature had formed, not a grotto, but a pile of
enormous rocks, such as are often met with in granite countries and which
bear the name of “Chimneys.”
Pencroft and Herbert penetrated quite far in among the rocks, by sandy
passages in which light was not wanting, for it entered through the openings
which were left between the blocks, of which some were only sustained by
a miracle of equilibrium; but with the light came also air—a regular
corridor-gale—and with the wind the sharp cold from the exterior.
However, the sailor thought that by stopping-up some of the openings with
a mixture of stones and sand, the Chimneys could be rendered habitable.
Their geometrical plan represented the typographical sign “&,” which
signifies “et cetera” abridged, but by isolating the upper mouth of the sign,
through which the south and west winds blew so strongly, they could
succeed in making the lower part of use.
“Here’s our work,” said Pencroft, “and if we ever see Captain Harding
again, he will know how to make something of this labyrinth.”

“We shall see him again, Pencroft,” cried Herbert, “and when he returns
he must find a tolerable dwelling here. It will be so, if we can make a
fireplace in the left passage and keep an opening for the smoke.”
“So we can, my boy,” replied the sailor, “and these Chimneys will serve
our turn. Let us set to work, but first come and get a store of fuel. I think
some branches will be very useful in stopping up these openings, through
which the wind shrieks like so many fiends.”
Herbert and Pencroft left the Chimneys, and, turning the angle, they
began to climb the left bank of the river. The current here was quite rapid,
and drifted down some dead wood. The rising tide—and it could already be
perceived—must drive it back with force to a considerable distance. The
sailor then thought that they could utilize this ebb and flow for the transport
of heavy objects.
After having walked for a quarter of an hour, the sailor and the boy
arrived at the angle which the river made in turning towards the left. From
this point its course was pursued through a forest of magnificent trees.
These trees still retained their verdure, notwithstanding the advanced
season, for they belonged to the family of “coniferae,” which is spread over
all the regions of the globe, from northern climates to the tropics. The
young naturalist recognized especially the “deedara,” which are very
numerous in the Himalayan zone, and which spread around them a most
agreeable odor. Between these beautiful trees sprang up clusters of firs,
whose opaque open parasol boughs spread wide around. Among the long
grass, Pencroft felt that his feet were crushing dry branches which crackled
like fireworks.
“Well, my boy,” said he to Herbert, “if I don’t know the name of these
trees, at any rate I reckon that we may call them ‘burning wood,’ and just
now that’s the chief thing we want.”
“Let us get a supply,” replied Herbert, who immediately set to work.
The collection was easily made. It was not even necessary to lop the
trees, for enormous quantities of dead wood were lying at their feet; but if
fuel was not wanting, the means of transporting it was not yet found. The
wood, being very dry, would burn rapidly; it was therefore necessary to
carry to the Chimneys a considerable quantity, and the loads of two men
would not be sufficient. Herbert remarked this.

“Well, my boy,” replied the sailor, “there must be some way of carrying
this wood; there is always a way of doing everything. If we had a cart or a
boat, it would be easy enough.”
“But we have the river,” said Herbert.
“Right,” replied Pencroft; “the river will be to us like a road which
carries of itself, and rafts have not been invented for nothing.”
“Only,” observed Herbert, “at this moment our road is going the wrong
way, for the tide is rising!”
“We shall be all right if we wait till it ebbs,” replied the sailor, “and then
we will trust it to carry our fuel to the Chimneys. Let us get the raft ready.”
The sailor, followed by Herbert, directed his steps towards the river. They
both carried, each in proportion to his strength, a load of wood bound in
fagots. They found on the bank also a great quantity of dead branches in the
midst of grass, among which the foot of man had probably never before
trod. Pencroft began directly to make his raft. In a kind of little bay, created
by a point of the shore which broke the current, the sailor and the lad placed
some good-sized pieces of wood, which they had fastened together with dry
creepers. A raft was thus formed, on which they stacked all they had
collected, sufficient, indeed, to have loaded at least twenty men. In an hour
the work was finished, and the raft moored to the bank, awaited the turning
of the tide.
There were still several hours to be occupied, and with one consent
Pencroft and Herbert resolved to gain the upper plateau, so as to have a
more extended view of the surrounding country.
Exactly two hundred feet behind the angle formed by the river, the wall,
terminated by a fall of rocks, died away in a gentle slope to the edge of the
forest. It was a natural staircase. Herbert and the sailor began their ascent;
thanks to the vigor of their muscles they reached the summit in a few
minutes; and proceeded to the point above the mouth of the river.
On attaining it, their first look was cast upon the ocean which not long
before they had traversed in such a terrible condition. They observed, with
emotion, all that part to the north of the coast on which the catastrophe had
taken place. It was there that Cyrus Harding had disappeared. They looked
to see if some portion of their balloon, to which a man might possibly cling,
yet existed. Nothing! The sea was but one vast watery desert. As to the

coast, it was solitary also. Neither the reporter nor Neb could be anywhere
seen. But it was possible that at this time they were both too far away to be
perceived.
“Something tells me,” cried Herbert, “that a man as energetic as Captain
Harding would not let himself be drowned like other people. He must have
reached some point of the shore; don’t you think so, Pencroft?”
The sailor shook his head sadly. He little expected ever to see Cyrus
Harding again; but wishing to leave some hope to Herbert: “Doubtless,
doubtless,” said he; “our engineer is a man who would get out of a scrape to
which any one else would yield.”
In the meantime he examined the coast with great attention. Stretched out
below them was the sandy shore, bounded on the right of the river’s mouth
by lines of breakers. The rocks which were visible appeared like
amphibious monsters reposing in the surf. Beyond the reef, the sea sparkled
beneath the sun’s rays. To the south a sharp point closed the horizon, and it
could not be seen if the land was prolonged in that direction, or if it ran
southeast and southwest, which would have made this coast a very long
peninsula. At the northern extremity of the bay the outline of the shore was
continued to a great distance in a wider curve. There the shore was low, flat,
without cliffs, and with great banks of sand, which the tide left uncovered.
Pencroft and Herbert then returned towards the west. Their attention was
first arrested by the snow-topped mountain which rose at a distance of six
or seven miles. From its first declivities to within two miles of the coast
were spread vast masses of wood, relieved by large green patches, caused
by the presence of evergreen trees. Then, from the edge of this forest to the
shore extended a plain, scattered irregularly with groups of trees. Here and
there on the left sparkled through glades the waters of the little river; they
could trace its winding course back towards the spurs of the mountain,
among which it seemed to spring. At the point where the sailor had left his
raft of wood, it began to run between the two high granite walls; but if on
the left bank the wall remained clear and abrupt, on the right bank, on the
contrary, it sank gradually, the massive sides changed to isolated rocks, the
rocks to stones, the stones to shingle running to the extremity of the point.
“Are we on an island?” murmured the sailor.
“At any rate, it seems to be big enough,” replied the lad.
“An island, ever so big, is an island all the same!” said Pencroft.

But this important question could not yet be answered. A more perfect
survey had to be made to settle the point. As to the land itself, island or
continent, it appeared fertile, agreeable in its aspect, and varied in its
productions.
“This is satisfactory,” observed Pencroft; “and in our misfortune, we
must thank Providence for it.”
“God be praised!” responded Herbert, whose pious heart was full of
gratitude to the Author of all things.
Pencroft and Herbert examined for some time the country on which they
had been cast; but it was difficult to guess after so hasty an inspection what
the future had in store for them.
They then returned, following the southern crest of the granite platform,
bordered by a long fringe of jagged rocks, of the most whimsical shapes.
Some hundreds of birds lived there nestled in the holes of the stone;
Herbert, jumping over the rocks, startled a whole flock of these winged
creatures.
“Oh!” cried he, “those are not gulls nor sea-mews!”
“What are they then?” asked Pencroft.
“Upon my word, one would say they were pigeons!”
“Just so, but these are wild or rock pigeons. I recognize them by the
double band of black on the wing, by the white tail, and by their slate-
colored plumage. But if the rock-pigeon is good to eat, its eggs must be
excellent, and we will soon see how many they may have left in their
nests!”
“We will not give them time to hatch, unless it is in the shape of an
omelet!” replied Pencroft merrily.
“But what will you make your omelet in?” asked Herbert; “in your hat?”
“Well!” replied the sailor, “I am not quite conjuror enough for that; we
must come down to eggs in the shell, my boy, and I will undertake to
despatch the hardest!”
Pencroft and Herbert attentively examined the cavities in the granite, and
they really found eggs in some of the hollows. A few dozen being collected,
were packed in the sailor’s handkerchief, and as the time when the tide
would be full was approaching, Pencroft and Herbert began to redescend

towards the watercourse. When they arrived there, it was an hour after
midday. The tide had already turned. They must now avail themselves of
the ebb to take the wood to the mouth. Pencroft did not intend to let the raft
go away in the current without guidance, neither did he mean to embark on
it himself to steer it. But a sailor is never at a loss when there is a question
of cables or ropes, and Pencroft rapidly twisted a cord, a few fathoms long,
made of dry creepers. This vegetable cable was fastened to the after-part of
the raft, and the sailor held it in his hand while Herbert, pushing off the raft
with a long pole, kept it in the current. This succeeded capitally. The
enormous load of wood drifted down the current. The bank was very equal;
there was no fear that the raft would run aground, and before two o’clock
they arrived at the river’s mouth, a few paces from the Chimneys.

Chapter 5
Pencroft’s first care, after unloading the raft, was to render the cave
habitable by stopping up all the holes which made it draughty. Sand, stones,
twisted branches, wet clay, closed up the galleries open to the south winds.
One narrow and winding opening at the side was kept, to lead out the
smoke and to make the fire draw. The cave was thus divided into three or
four rooms, if such dark dens with which a donkey would scarcely have
been contented deserved the name. But they were dry, and there was space
to stand upright, at least in the principal room, which occupied the center.
The floor was covered with fine sand, and taking all in all they were well
pleased with it for want of a better.
“Perhaps,” said Herbert, while he and Pencroft were working, “our
companions have found a superior place to ours.”
“Very likely,” replied the seaman; “but, as we don’t know, we must work
all the same. Better to have two strings to one’s bow than no string at all!”
“Oh!” exclaimed Herbert, “how jolly it will be if they were to find
Captain Harding and were to bring him back with them!”
“Yes, indeed!” said Pencroft, “that was a man of the right sort.”
“Was!” exclaimed Herbert, “do you despair of ever seeing him again?”
“God forbid!” replied the sailor. Their work was soon done, and Pencroft
declared himself very well satisfied.
“Now,” said he, “our friends can come back when they like. They will
find a good enough shelter.”
They now had only to make a fireplace and to prepare the supper—an
easy task. Large flat stones were placed on the ground at the opening of the
narrow passage which had been kept. This, if the smoke did not take the
heat out with it, would be enough to maintain an equal temperature inside.
Their wood was stowed away in one of the rooms, and the sailor laid in the
fireplace some logs and brushwood. The seaman was busy with this, when
Herbert asked him if he had any matches.

“Certainly,” replied Pencroft, “and I may say happily, for without
matches or tinder we should be in a fix.”
“Still we might get fire as the savages do,” replied Herbert, “by rubbing
two bits of dry stick one against the other.”
“All right; try, my boy, and let’s see if you can do anything besides
exercising your arms.”
“Well, it’s a very simple proceeding, and much used in the islands of the
Pacific.”
“I don’t deny it,” replied Pencroft, “but the savages must know how to do
it or employ a peculiar wood, for more than once I have tried to get fire in
that way, but I could never manage it. I must say I prefer matches. By the
bye, where are my matches?”
Pencroft searched in his waistcoat for the box, which was always there,
for he was a confirmed smoker. He could not find it; he rummaged the
pockets of his trousers, but, to his horror, he could nowhere discover the
box.
“Here’s a go!” said he, looking at Herbert. “The box must have fallen out
of my pocket and got lost! Surely, Herbert, you must have something—a
tinder-box—anything that can possibly make fire!”
“No, I haven’t, Pencroft.”
The sailor rushed out, followed by the boy. On the sand, among the
rocks, near the river’s bank, they both searched carefully, but in vain. The
box was of copper, and therefore would have been easily seen.
“Pencroft,” asked Herbert, “didn’t you throw it out of the car?”
“I knew better than that,” replied the sailor; “but such a small article
could easily disappear in the tumbling about we have gone through. I would
rather even have lost my pipe! Confound the box! Where can it be?”
“Look here, the tide is going down,” said Herbert; “let’s run to the place
where we landed.”
It was scarcely probable that they would find the box, which the waves
had rolled about among the pebbles, at high tide, but it was as well to try.
Herbert and Pencroft walked rapidly to the point where they had landed the
day before, about two hundred feet from the cave. They hunted there,
among the shingle, in the clefts of the rocks, but found nothing. If the box

had fallen at this place it must have been swept away by the waves. As the
sea went down, they searched every little crevice with no result. It was a
grave loss in their circumstances, and for the time irreparable. Pencroft
could not hide his vexation; he looked very anxious, but said not a word.
Herbert tried to console him by observing, that if they had found the
matches, they would, very likely, have been wetted by the sea and useless.
“No, my boy,” replied the sailor; “they were in a copper box which shut
very tightly; and now what are we to do?”
“We shall certainly find some way of making a fire,” said Herbert.
“Captain Harding or Mr. Spilett will not be without them.”
“Yes,” replied Pencroft; “but in the meantime we are without fire, and
our companions will find but a sorry repast on their return.”
“But,” said Herbert quickly, “do you think it possible that they have no
tinder or matches?”
“I doubt it,” replied the sailor, shaking his head, “for neither Neb nor
Captain Harding smoke, and I believe that Mr. Spilett would rather keep his
note-book than his match-box.”
Herbert did not reply. The loss of the box was certainly to be regretted,
but the boy was still sure of procuring fire in some way or other. Pencroft,
more experienced, did not think so, although he was not a man to trouble
himself about a small or great grievance. At any rate, there was only one
thing to be done—to await the return of Neb and the reporter; but they must
give up the feast of hard eggs which they had meant to prepare, and a meal
of raw flesh was not an agreeable prospect either for themselves or for the
others.
Before returning to the cave, the sailor and Herbert, in the event of fire
being positively unattainable, collected some more shell-fish, and then
silently retraced their steps to their dwelling.
Pencroft, his eyes fixed on the ground, still looked for his box. He even
climbed up the left bank of the river from its mouth to the angle where the
raft had been moored. He returned to the plateau, went over it in every
direction, searched among the high grass on the border of the forest, all in
vain.
It was five in the evening when he and Herbert re-entered the cave. It is
useless to say that the darkest corners of the passages were ransacked

before they were obliged to give it up in despair. Towards six o’clock, when
the sun was disappearing behind the high lands of the west, Herbert, who
was walking up and down on the strand, signalized the return of Neb and
Spilett.
They were returning alone!... The boy’s heart sank; the sailor had not
been deceived in his forebodings; the engineer, Cyrus Harding, had not
been found!
The reporter, on his arrival, sat down on a rock, without saying anything.
Exhausted with fatigue, dying of hunger, he had not strength to utter a
word.
As to Neb, his red eyes showed how he had cried, and the tears which he
could not restrain told too clearly that he had lost all hope.
The reporter recounted all that they had done in their attempt to recover
Cyrus Harding. He and Neb had surveyed the coast for a distance of eight
miles and consequently much beyond the place where the balloon had fallen
the last time but one, a fall which was followed by the disappearance of the
engineer and the dog Top. The shore was solitary; not a vestige of a mark.
Not even a pebble recently displaced; not a trace on the sand; not a human
footstep on all that part of the beach. It was clear that that portion of the
shore had never been visited by a human being. The sea was as deserted as
the land, and it was there, a few hundred feet from the coast, that the
engineer must have found a tomb.
As Spilett ended his account, Neb jumped up, exclaiming in a voice
which showed how hope struggled within him, “No! he is not dead! he can’t
be dead! It might happen to any one else, but never to him! He could get out
of anything!” Then his strength forsaking him, “Oh! I can do no more!” he
murmured.
“Neb,” said Herbert, running to him, “we will find him! God will give
him back to us! But in the meantime you are hungry, and you must eat
something.”
So saying, he offered the poor Negro a few handfuls of shell-fish, which
was indeed wretched and insufficient food. Neb had not eaten anything for
several hours, but he refused them. He could not, would not live without his
master.

As to Gideon Spilett, he devoured the shell-fish, then he laid himself
down on the sand, at the foot of a rock. He was very weak, but calm.
Herbert went up to him, and taking his hand, “Sir,” said he, “we have found
a shelter which will be better than lying here. Night is advancing. Come and
rest! To-morrow we will search farther.”
The reporter got up, and guided by the boy went towards the cave. On the
way, Pencroft asked him in the most natural tone, if by chance he happened
to have a match or two.
The reporter stopped, felt in his pockets, but finding nothing said, “I had
some, but I must have thrown them away.”
The seaman then put the same question to Neb and received the same
answer.
“Confound it!” exclaimed the sailor.
The reporter heard him and seizing his arm, “Have you no matches?” he
asked.
“Not one, and no fire in consequence.”
“Ah!” cried Neb, “if my master was here, he would know what to do!”
The four castaways remained motionless, looking uneasily at each other.
Herbert was the first to break the silence by saying, “Mr. Spilett, you are a
smoker and always have matches about you; perhaps you haven’t looked
well, try again, a single match will be enough!”
The reporter hunted again in the pockets of his trousers, waistcoat, and
great-coat, and at last to Pencroft’s great joy, no less to his extreme surprise,
he felt a tiny piece of wood entangled in the lining of his waistcoat. He
seized it with his fingers through the stuff, but he could not get it out. If this
was a match and a single one, it was of great importance not to rub off the
phosphorus.
“Will you let me try?” said the boy, and very cleverly, without breaking
it, he managed to draw out the wretched yet precious little bit of wood
which was of such great importance to these poor men. It was unused.
“Hurrah!” cried Pencroft; “it is as good as having a whole cargo!” He
took the match, and, followed by his companions, entered the cave.
This small piece of wood, of which so many in an inhabited country are
wasted with indifference and are of no value, must here be used with the

greatest caution.
The sailor first made sure that it was quite dry; that done, “We must have
some paper,” said he.
“Here,” replied Spilett, after some hesitation tearing a leaf out of his
note-book.
Pencroft took the piece of paper which the reporter held out to him, and
knelt down before the fireplace. Some handfuls of grass, leaves, and dry
moss were placed under the fagots and disposed in such a way that the air
could easily circulate, and the dry wood would rapidly catch fire.
Pencroft then twisted the piece of paper into the shape of a cone, as
smokers do in a high wind, and poked it in among the moss. Taking a small,
rough stone, he wiped it carefully, and with a beating heart, holding his
breath, he gently rubbed the match. The first attempt did not produce any
effect. Pencroft had not struck hard enough, fearing to rub off the
phosphorus.
“No, I can’t do it,” said he, “my hand trembles, the match has missed
fire; I cannot, I will not!” and rising, he told Herbert to take his place.
Certainly the boy had never in all his life been so nervous. Prometheus
going to steal the fire from heaven could not have been more anxious. He
did not hesitate, however, but struck the match directly.
A little spluttering was heard and a tiny blue flame sprang up, making a
choking smoke. Herbert quickly turned the match so as to augment the
flame, and then slipped it into the paper cone, which in a few seconds too
caught fire, and then the moss.
A minute later the dry wood crackled and a cheerful flame, assisted by
the vigorous blowing of the sailor, sprang up in the midst of the darkness.
“At last!” cried Pencroft, getting up; “I was never so nervous before in all
my life!”
The flat stones made a capital fireplace. The smoke went quite easily out
at the narrow passage, the chimney drew, and an agreeable warmth was not
long in being felt.
They must now take great care not to let the fire go out, and always to
keep some embers alight. It only needed care and attention, as they had
plenty of wood and could renew their store at any time.

Pencroft’s first thought was to use the fire by preparing a more
nourishing supper than a dish of shell-fish. Two dozen eggs were brought
by Herbert. The reporter leaning up in a corner, watched these preparations
without saying anything. A threefold thought weighed on his mind. Was
Cyrus still alive? If he was alive, where was he? If he had survived from his
fall, how was it that he had not found some means of making known his
existence? As to Neb, he was roaming about the shore. He was like a body
without a soul.
Pencroft knew fifty ways of cooking eggs, but this time he had no choice,
and was obliged to content himself with roasting them under the hot
cinders. In a few minutes the cooking was done, and the seaman invited the
reporter to take his share of the supper. Such was the first repast of the
castaways on this unknown coast. The hard eggs were excellent, and as
eggs contain everything indispensable to man’s nourishment, these poor
people thought themselves well off, and were much strengthened by them.
Oh! if only one of them had not been missing at this meal! If the five
prisoners who escaped from Richmond had been all there, under the piled-
up rocks, before this clear, crackling fire on the dry sand, what thanksgiving
must they have rendered to Heaven! But the most ingenious, the most
learned, he who was their unquestioned chief, Cyrus Harding, was, alas!
missing, and his body had not even obtained a burial-place.
Thus passed the 25th of March. Night had come on. Outside could be
heard the howling of the wind and the monotonous sound of the surf
breaking on the shore. The waves rolled the shingle backwards and
forwards with a deafening noise.
The reporter retired into a dark corner after having shortly noted down
the occurrences of the day; the first appearance of this new land, the loss of
their leader, the exploration of the coast, the incident of the matches, etc.;
and then overcome by fatigue, he managed to forget his sorrows in sleep.
Herbert went to sleep directly. As to the sailor, he passed the night with one
eye on the fire, on which he did not spare fuel. But one of the castaways did
not sleep in the cave. The inconsolable, despairing Neb, notwithstanding all
that his companions could say to induce him to take some rest, wandered all
night long on the shore calling on his master.

Chapter 6
The inventory of the articles possessed by these castaways from the
clouds, thrown upon a coast which appeared to be uninhabited, was soon
made out. They had nothing, save the clothes which they were wearing at
the time of the catastrophe. We must mention, however, a note-book and a
watch which Gideon Spilett had kept, doubtless by inadvertence, not a
weapon, not a tool, not even a pocket-knife; for while in the car they had
thrown out everything to lighten the balloon. The imaginary heroes of
Daniel Defoe or of Wyss, as well as Selkirk and Raynal shipwrecked on
Juan Fernandez and on the archipelago of the Aucklands, were never in
such absolute destitution. Either they had abundant resources from their
stranded vessels, in grain, cattle, tools, ammunition, or else some things
were thrown up on the coast which supplied them with all the first
necessities of life. But here, not any instrument whatever, not a utensil.
From nothing they must supply themselves with everything.
And yet, if Cyrus Harding had been with them, if the engineer could have
brought his practical science, his inventive mind to bear on their situation,
perhaps all hope would not have been lost. Alas! they must hope no longer
again to see Cyrus Harding. The castaways could expect nothing but from
themselves and from that Providence which never abandons those whose
faith is sincere.
But ought they to establish themselves on this part of the coast, without
trying to know to what continent it belonged, if it was inhabited, or if they
were on the shore of a desert island?
It was an important question, and should be solved with the shortest
possible delay. From its answer they would know what measures to take.
However, according to Pencroft’s advice, it appeared best to wait a few
days before commencing an exploration. They must, in fact, prepare some
provisions and procure more strengthening food than eggs and molluscs.
The explorers, before undertaking new fatigues, must first of all recruit their
strength.

The Chimneys offered a retreat sufficient for the present. The fire was
lighted, and it was easy to preserve some embers. There were plenty of
shell-fish and eggs among the rocks and on the beach. It would be easy to
kill a few of the pigeons which were flying by hundreds about the summit
of the plateau, either with sticks or stones. Perhaps the trees of the
neighboring forest would supply them with eatable fruit. Lastly, the sweet
water was there.
It was accordingly settled that for a few days they would remain at the
Chimneys so as to prepare themselves for an expedition, either along the
shore or into the interior of the country. This plan suited Neb particularly.
As obstinate in his ideas as in his presentiments, he was in no haste to
abandon this part of the coast, the scene of the catastrophe. He did not, he
would not believe in the loss of Cyrus Harding. No, it did not seem to him
possible that such a man had ended in this vulgar fashion, carried away by a
wave, drowned in the floods, a few hundred feet from a shore. As long as
the waves had not cast up the body of the engineer, as long as he, Neb, had
not seen with his eyes, touched with his hands the corpse of his master, he
would not believe in his death! And this idea rooted itself deeper than ever
in his determined heart. An illusion perhaps, but still an illusion to be
respected, and one which the sailor did not wish to destroy. As for him, he
hoped no longer, but there was no use in arguing with Neb. He was like the
dog who will not leave the place where his master is buried, and his grief
was such that most probably he would not survive him.
This same morning, the 26th of March, at daybreak, Neb had set out on
the shore in a northerly direction, and he had returned to the spot where the
sea, no doubt, had closed over the unfortunate Harding.
That day’s breakfast was composed solely of pigeon’s eggs and
lithodomes. Herbert had found some salt deposited by evaporation in the
hollows of the rocks, and this mineral was very welcome.
The repast ended, Pencroft asked the reporter if he wished to accompany
Herbert and himself to the forest, where they were going to try to hunt. But
on consideration, it was thought necessary that someone should remain to
keep in the fire, and to be at hand in the highly improbable event of Neb
requiring aid. The reporter accordingly remained behind.
“To the chase, Herbert,” said the sailor. “We shall find ammunition on
our way, and cut our weapons in the forest.” But at the moment of starting,

Herbert observed, that since they had no tinder, it would perhaps be prudent
to replace it by another substance.
“What?” asked Pencroft.
“Burnt linen,” replied the boy. “That could in case of need serve for
tinder.”
The sailor thought it very sensible advice. Only it had the inconvenience
of necessitating the sacrifice of a piece of handkerchief. Notwithstanding,
the thing was well worth while trying, and a part of Pencroft’s large
checked handkerchief was soon reduced to the state of a half-burnt rag. This
inflammable material was placed in the central chamber at the bottom of a
little cavity in the rock, sheltered from all wind and damp.
It was nine o’clock in the morning. The weather was threatening and the
breeze blew from the southeast. Herbert and Pencroft turned the angle of
the Chimneys, not without having cast a look at the smoke which, just at
that place, curled round a point of rock: they ascended the left bank of the
river.
Arrived at the forest, Pencroft broke from the first tree two stout branches
which he transformed into clubs, the ends of which Herbert rubbed smooth
on a rock. Oh! what would they not have given for a knife!
The two hunters now advanced among the long grass, following the
bank. From the turning which directed its course to the southwest, the river
narrowed gradually and the channel lay between high banks, over which the
trees formed a double arch. Pencroft, lest they should lose themselves,
resolved to follow the course of the stream, which would always lead them
back to the point from which they started. But the bank was not without
some obstacles: here, the flexible branches of the trees bent level with the
current; there, creepers and thorns which they had to break down with their
sticks. Herbert often glided among the broken stumps with the agility of a
young cat, and disappeared in the underwood. But Pencroft called him back
directly, begging him not to wander away. Meanwhile, the sailor attentively
observed the disposition and nature of the surrounding country. On the left
bank, the ground, which was flat and marshy, rose imperceptibly towards
the interior. It looked there like a network of liquid threads which doubtless
reached the river by some underground drain. Sometimes a stream ran
through the underwood, which they crossed without difficulty. The opposite
shore appeared to be more uneven, and the valley of which the river

occupied the bottom was more clearly visible. The hill, covered with trees
disposed in terraces, intercepted the view. On the right bank walking would
have been difficult, for the declivities fell suddenly, and the trees bending
over the water were only sustained by the strength of their roots.
It is needless to add that this forest, as well as the coast already surveyed,
was destitute of any sign of human life. Pencroft only saw traces of
quadrupeds, fresh footprints of animals, of which he could not recognize the
species. In all probability, and such was also Herbert’s opinion, some had
been left by formidable wild beasts which doubtless would give them some
trouble; but nowhere did they observe the mark of an axe on the trees, nor
the ashes of a fire, nor the impression of a human foot. On this they might
probably congratulate themselves, for on any land in the middle of the
Pacific the presence of man was perhaps more to be feared than desired.
Herbert and Pencroft speaking little, for the difficulties of the way were
great, advanced very slowly, and after walking for an hour they had scarcely
gone more than a mile. As yet the hunt had not been successful. However,
some birds sang and fluttered in the foliage, and appeared very timid, as if
man had inspired them with an instinctive fear. Among others, Herbert
described, in a marshy part of the forest, a bird with a long pointed beak,
closely resembling the king-fisher, but its plumage was not fine, though of a
metallic brilliancy.
“That must be a jacamar,” said Herbert, trying to get nearer.
“This will be a good opportunity to taste jacamar,” replied the sailor, “if
that fellow is in a humor to be roasted!”
Just then, a stone cleverly thrown by the boy, struck the creature on the
wing, but the blow did not disable it, and the jacamar ran off and
disappeared in an instant.
“How clumsy I am!” cried Herbert.
“No, no, my boy!” replied the sailor. “The blow was well aimed; many a
one would have missed it altogether! Come, don’t be vexed with yourself.
We shall catch it another day!”
As the hunters advanced, the trees were found to be more scattered, many
being magnificent, but none bore eatable fruit. Pencroft searched in vain for
some of those precious palm-trees which are employed in so many ways in
domestic life, and which have been found as far as the fortieth parallel in
the Northern Hemisphere, and to the thirty-fifth only in the Southern

Hemisphere. But this forest was only composed of coniferae, such as
deodaras, already recognized by Herbert, and Douglas pine, similar to those
which grow on the northwest coast of America, and splendid firs, measuring
a hundred and fifty feet in height.
At this moment a flock of birds, of a small size and pretty plumage, with
long glancing tails, dispersed themselves among the branches strewing their
feathers, which covered the ground as with fine down. Herbert picked up a
few of these feathers, and after having examined them,—
“These are couroucous,” said he.
“I should prefer a moor-cock or guinea-fowl,” replied Pencroft, “still, if
they are good to eat—”
“They are good to eat, and also their flesh is very delicate,” replied
Herbert. “Besides, if I don’t mistake, it is easy to approach and kill them
with a stick.”
The sailor and the lad, creeping among the grass, arrived at the foot of a
tree, whose lower branches were covered with little birds. The couroucous
were waiting the passage of insects which served for their nourishment.
Their feathery feet could be seen clasping the slender twigs which
supported them.
The hunters then rose, and using their sticks like scythes, they mowed
down whole rows of these couroucous, who never thought of flying away,
and stupidly allowed themselves to be knocked off. A hundred were already
heaped on the ground, before the others made up their minds to fly.
“Well,” said Pencroft, “here is game, which is quite within the reach of
hunters like us. We have only to put out our hands and take it!”
The sailor having strung the couroucous like larks on flexible twigs, they
then continued their exploration. The stream here made a bend towards the
south, but this detour was probably not prolonged for the river must have its
source in the mountain, and be supplied by the melting of the snow which
covered the sides of the central cone.
The particular object of their expedition was, as has been said, to procure
the greatest possible quantity of game for the inhabitants of the Chimneys.
It must be acknowledged that as yet this object had not been attained. So the
sailor actively pursued his researches, though he exclaimed, when some
animal which he had not even time to recognize fled into the long grass, “If

only we had had the dog Top!” But Top had disappeared at the same time as
his master, and had probably perished with him.
Towards three o’clock new flocks of birds were seen through certain
trees, at whose aromatic berries they were pecking, those of the juniper-tree
among others. Suddenly a loud trumpet call resounded through the forest.
This strange and sonorous cry was produced by a game bird called grouse
in the United States. They soon saw several couples, whose plumage was
rich chestnut-brown mottled with dark brown, and tail of the same color.
Herbert recognized the males by the two wing-like appendages raised on
the neck. Pencroft determined to get hold of at least one of these
gallinaceae, which were as large as a fowl, and whose flesh is better than
that of a pullet. But it was difficult, for they would not allow themselves to
be approached. After several fruitless attempts, which resulted in nothing
but scaring the grouse, the sailor said to the lad,—
“Decidedly, since we can’t kill them on the wing, we must try to take
them with a line.”
“Like a fish?” cried Herbert, much surprised at the proposal.
“Like a fish,” replied the sailor quite seriously. Pencroft had found
among the grass half a dozen grouse nests, each having three or four eggs.
He took great care not to touch these nests, to which their proprietors would
not fail to return. It was around these that he meant to stretch his lines, not
snares, but real fishing-lines. He took Herbert to some distance from the
nests, and there prepared his singular apparatus with all the care which a
disciple of Izaak Walton would have used. Herbert watched the work with
great interest, though rather doubting its success. The lines were made of
fine creepers, fastened one to the other, of the length of fifteen or twenty
feet. Thick, strong thorns, the points bent back (which were supplied from a
dwarf acacia bush) were fastened to the ends of the creepers, by way of
hooks. Large red worms, which were crawling on the ground, furnished
bait.
This done, Pencroft, passing among the grass and concealing himself
skillfully, placed the end of his lines armed with hooks near the grouse
nests; then he returned, took the other ends and hid with Herbert behind a
large tree. There they both waited patiently; though, it must be said, that
Herbert did not reckon much on the success of the inventive Pencroft.

A whole half-hour passed, but then, as the sailor had surmised, several
couple of grouse returned to their nests. They walked along, pecking the
ground, and not suspecting in any way the presence of the hunters, who,
besides, had taken care to place themselves to leeward of the gallinaceae.
The lad felt at this moment highly interested. He held his breath, and
Pencroft, his eyes staring, his mouth open, his lips advanced, as if about to
taste a piece of grouse, scarcely breathed.
Meanwhile, the birds walked about the hooks, without taking any notice
of them. Pencroft then gave little tugs which moved the bait as if the worms
had been still alive.
The sailor undoubtedly felt much greater anxiety than does the
fisherman, for he does not see his prey coming through the water. The jerks
attracted the attention of the gallinaceae, and they attacked the hooks with
their beaks. Three voracious grouse swallowed at the same moment bait and
hook. Suddenly with a smart jerk, Pencroft “struck” his line, and a flapping
of wings showed that the birds were taken.
“Hurrah!” he cried, rushing towards the game, of which he made himself
master in an instant.
Herbert clapped his hands. It was the first time that he had ever seen
birds taken with a line, but the sailor modestly confessed that it was not his
first attempt, and that besides he could not claim the merit of invention.
“And at any rate,” added he, “situated as we are, we must hope to hit
upon many other contrivances.”
The grouse were fastened by their claws, and Pencroft, delighted at not
having to appear before their companions with empty hands, and observing
that the day had begun to decline, judged it best to return to their dwelling.
The direction was indicated by the river, whose course they had only to
follow, and, towards six o’clock, tired enough with their excursion, Herbert
and Pencroft arrived at the Chimneys.

Chapter 7
Gideon Spilett was standing motionless on the shore, his arms crossed,
gazing over the sea, the horizon of which was lost towards the east in a
thick black cloud which was spreading rapidly towards the zenith. The wind
was already strong, and increased with the decline of day. The whole sky
was of a threatening aspect, and the first symptoms of a violent storm were
clearly visible.
Herbert entered the Chimneys, and Pencroft went towards the reporter.
The latter, deeply absorbed, did not see him approach.
“We are going to have a dirty night, Mr. Spilett!” said the sailor: “Petrels
delight in wind and rain.”
The reporter, turning at the moment, saw Pencroft, and his first words
were,—
“At what distance from the coast would you say the car was, when the
waves carried off our companion?”
The sailor had not expected this question. He reflected an instant and
replied,—
“Two cables lengths at the most.”
“But what is a cable’s length?” asked Gideon Spilett.
“About a hundred and twenty fathoms, or six hundred feet.”
“Then,” said the reporter, “Cyrus Harding must have disappeared twelve
hundred feet at the most from the shore?”
“About that,” replied Pencroft.
“And his dog also?”
“Also.”
“What astonishes me,” rejoined the reporter, “while admitting that our
companion has perished, is that Top has also met his death, and that neither
the body of the dog nor of his master has been cast on the shore!”
“It is not astonishing, with such a heavy sea,” replied the sailor. “Besides,
it is possible that currents have carried them farther down the coast.”

“Then, it is your opinion that our friend has perished in the waves?”
again asked the reporter.
“That is my opinion.”
“My own opinion,” said Gideon Spilett, “with due deference to your
experience, Pencroft, is that in the double fact of the absolute disappearance
of Cyrus and Top, living or dead, there is something unaccountable and
unlikely.”
“I wish I could think like you, Mr. Spilett,” replied Pencroft; “unhappily,
my mind is made up on this point.” Having said this, the sailor returned to
the Chimneys. A good fire crackled on the hearth. Herbert had just thrown
on an armful of dry wood, and the flame cast a bright light into the darkest
parts of the passage.
Pencroft immediately began to prepare the dinner. It appeared best to
introduce something solid into the bill of fare, for all needed to get up their
strength. The strings of couroucous were kept for the next day, but they
plucked a couple of grouse, which were soon spitted on a stick, and roasting
before a blazing fire.
At seven in the evening Neb had not returned. The prolonged absence of
the Negro made Pencroft very uneasy. It was to be feared that he had met
with an accident on this unknown land, or that the unhappy fellow had been
driven to some act of despair. But Herbert drew very different conclusions
from this absence. According to him, Neb’s delay was caused by some new
circumstances which had induced him to prolong his search. Also,
everything new must be to the advantage of Cyrus Harding. Why had Neb
not returned unless hope still detained him? Perhaps he had found some
mark, a footstep, a trace which had put him in the right path. Perhaps he
was at this moment on a certain track. Perhaps even he was near his master.
Thus the lad reasoned. Thus he spoke. His companions let him talk. The
reporter alone approved with a gesture. But what Pencroft thought most
probable was, that Neb had pushed his researches on the shore farther than
the day before, and that he had not as yet had time to return.
Herbert, however, agitated by vague presentiments, several times
manifested an intention to go to meet Neb. But Pencroft assured him that
that would be a useless course, that in the darkness and deplorable weather
he could not find any traces of Neb, and that it would be much better to

wait. If Neb had not made his appearance by the next day, Pencroft would
not hesitate to join him in his search.
Gideon Spilett approved of the sailor’s opinion that it was best not to
divide, and Herbert was obliged to give up his project; but two large tears
fell from his eyes.
The reporter could not refrain from embracing the generous boy.
Bad weather now set in. A furious gale from the southeast passed over
the coast. The sea roared as it beat over the reef. Heavy rain was dashed by
the storm into particles like dust. Ragged masses of vapor drove along the
beach, on which the tormented shingles sounded as if poured out in cart-
loads, while the sand raised by the wind added as it were mineral dust to
that which was liquid, and rendered the united attack insupportable.
Between the river’s mouth and the end of the cliff, eddies of wind whirled
and gusts from this maelstrom lashed the water which ran through the
narrow valley. The smoke from the fireplace was also driven back through
the opening, filling the passages and rendering them uninhabitable.
Therefore, as the grouse were cooked, Pencroft let the fire die away, and
only preserved a few embers buried under the ashes.
At eight o’clock Neb had not appeared, but there was no doubt that the
frightful weather alone hindered his return, and that he must have taken
refuge in some cave, to await the end of the storm or at least the return of
day. As to going to meet him, or attempting to find him, it was impossible.
The game constituted the only dish at supper; the meat was excellent, and
Pencroft and Herbert, whose long excursion had rendered them very
hungry, devoured it with infinite satisfaction.
Their meal concluded, each retired to the corner in which he had rested
the preceding night, and Herbert was not long in going to sleep near the
sailor, who had stretched himself beside the fireplace.
Outside, as the night advanced, the tempest also increased in strength,
until it was equal to that which had carried the prisoners from Richmond to
this land in the Pacific. The tempests which are frequent during the seasons
of the equinox, and which are so prolific in catastrophes, are above all
terrible over this immense ocean, which opposes no obstacle to their fury.
No description can give an idea of the terrific violence of the gale as it beat
upon the unprotected coast.

Happily the pile of rocks which formed the Chimneys was solid. It was
composed of enormous blocks of granite, a few of which, insecurely
balanced, seemed to tremble on their foundations, and Pencroft could feel
rapid quiverings under his head as it rested on the rock. But he repeated to
himself, and rightly, that there was nothing to fear, and that their retreat
would not give way. However he heard the noise of stones torn from the
summit of the plateau by the wind, falling down on to the beach. A few
even rolled on to the upper part of the Chimneys, or flew off in fragments
when they were projected perpendicularly. Twice the sailor rose and
intrenched himself at the opening of the passage, so as to take a look in
safety at the outside. But there was nothing to be feared from these showers,
which were not considerable, and he returned to his couch before the
fireplace, where the embers glowed beneath the ashes.
Notwithstanding the fury of the hurricane, the uproar of the tempest, the
thunder, and the tumult, Herbert slept profoundly. Sleep at last took
possession of Pencroft, whom a seafaring life had habituated to anything.
Gideon Spilett alone was kept awake by anxiety. He reproached himself
with not having accompanied Neb. It was evident that he had not
abandoned all hope. The presentiments which had troubled Herbert did not
cease to agitate him also. His thoughts were concentrated on Neb. Why had
Neb not returned? He tossed about on his sandy couch, scarcely giving a
thought to the struggle of the elements. Now and then, his eyes, heavy with
fatigue, closed for an instant, but some sudden thought reopened them
almost immediately.
Meanwhile the night advanced, and it was perhaps two hours from
morning, when Pencroft, then sound asleep, was vigorously shaken.
“What’s the matter?” he cried, rousing himself, and collecting his ideas
with the promptitude usual to seamen.
The reporter was leaning over him, and saying,—
“Listen, Pencroft, listen!”
The sailor strained his ears, but could hear no noise beyond those caused
by the storm.
“It is the wind,” said he.
“No,” replied Gideon Spilett, listening again, “I thought I heard—”
“What?”

“The barking of a dog!”
“A dog!” cried Pencroft, springing up.
“Yes—barking—”
“It’s not possible!” replied the sailor. “And besides, how, in the roaring of
the storm—”
“Stop—listen—” said the reporter.
Pencroft listened more attentively, and really thought he heard, during a
lull, distant barking.
“Well!” said the reporter, pressing the sailor’s hand.
“Yes—yes!” replied Pencroft.
“It is Top! It is Top!” cried Herbert, who had just awoke; and all three
rushed towards the opening of the Chimneys. They had great difficulty in
getting out. The wind drove them back. But at last they succeeded, and
could only remain standing by leaning against the rocks. They looked
about, but could not speak. The darkness was intense. The sea, the sky, the
land were all mingled in one black mass. Not a speck of light was visible.
The reporter and his companions remained thus for a few minutes,
overwhelmed by the wind, drenched by the rain, blinded by the sand.
Then, in a pause of the tumult, they again heard the barking, which they
found must be at some distance.
It could only be Top! But was he alone or accompanied? He was most
probably alone, for, if Neb had been with him, he would have made his way
more directly towards the Chimneys. The sailor squeezed the reporter’s
hand, for he could not make himself heard, in a way which signified
“Wait!” then he reentered the passage.
An instant after he issued with a lighted fagot, which he threw into the
darkness, whistling shrilly.
It appeared as if this signal had been waited for; the barking immediately
came nearer, and soon a dog bounded into the passage. Pencroft, Herbert,
and Spilett entered after him.
An armful of dry wood was thrown on the embers. The passage was
lighted up with a bright flame.
“It is Top!” cried Herbert.

It was indeed Top, a magnificent Anglo-Norman, who derived from these
two races crossed the swiftness of foot and the acuteness of smell which are
the preeminent qualities of coursing dogs. It was the dog of the engineer,
Cyrus Harding. But he was alone! Neither Neb nor his master accompanied
him!
How was it that his instinct had guided him straight to the Chimneys,
which he did not know? It appeared inexplicable, above all, in the midst of
this black night and in such a tempest! But what was still more inexplicable
was, that Top was neither tired, nor exhausted, nor even soiled with mud or
sand!—Herbert had drawn him towards him, and was patting his head, the
dog rubbing his neck against the lad’s hands.
“If the dog is found, the master will be found also!” said the reporter.
“God grant it!” responded Herbert. “Let us set off! Top will guide us!”
Pencroft did not make any objection. He felt that Top’s arrival
contradicted his conjectures. “Come along then!” said he.
Pencroft carefully covered the embers on the hearth. He placed a few
pieces of wood among them, so as to keep in the fire until their return.
Then, preceded by the dog, who seemed to invite them by short barks to
come with him, and followed by the reporter and the boy, he dashed out,
after having put up in his handkerchief the remains of the supper.
The storm was then in all its violence, and perhaps at its height. Not a
single ray of light from the moon pierced through the clouds. To follow a
straight course was difficult. It was best to rely on Top’s instinct. They did
so. The reporter and Herbert walked behind the dog, and the sailor brought
up the rear. It was impossible to exchange a word. The rain was not very
heavy, but the wind was terrific.
However, one circumstance favored the seaman and his two companions.
The wind being southeast, consequently blew on their backs. The clouds of
sand, which otherwise would have been insupportable, from being received
behind, did not in consequence impede their progress. In short, they
sometimes went faster than they liked, and had some difficulty in keeping
their feet; but hope gave them strength, for it was not at random that they
made their way along the shore. They had no doubt that Neb had found his
master, and that he had sent them the faithful dog. But was the engineer
living, or had Neb only sent for his companions that they might render the
last duties to the corpse of the unfortunate Harding?

After having passed the precipice, Herbert, the reporter, and Pencroft
prudently stepped aside to stop and take breath. The turn of the rocks
sheltered them from the wind, and they could breathe after this walk or
rather run of a quarter of an hour.
They could now hear and reply to each other, and the lad having
pronounced the name of Cyrus Harding, Top gave a few short barks, as
much as to say that his master was saved.
“Saved, isn’t he?” repeated Herbert; “saved, Top?”
And the dog barked in reply.
They once more set out. The tide began to rise, and urged by the wind it
threatened to be unusually high, as it was a spring tide. Great billows
thundered against the reef with such violence that they probably passed
entirely over the islet, then quite invisible. The mole no longer protected the
coast, which was directly exposed to the attacks of the open sea.
As soon as the sailor and his companions left the precipice, the wind
struck them again with renewed fury. Though bent under the gale they
walked very quickly, following Top, who did not hesitate as to what
direction to take.
They ascended towards the north, having on their left an interminable
extent of billows, which broke with a deafening noise, and on their right a
dark country, the aspect of which it was impossible to guess. But they felt
that it was comparatively flat, for the wind passed completely over them,
without being driven back as it was when it came in contact with the cliff.
At four o’clock in the morning, they reckoned that they had cleared about
five miles. The clouds were slightly raised, and the wind, though less damp,
was very sharp and cold. Insufficiently protected by their clothing, Pencroft,
Herbert and Spilett suffered cruelly, but not a complaint escaped their lips.
They were determined to follow Top, wherever the intelligent animal
wished to lead them.
Towards five o’clock day began to break. At the zenith, where the fog
was less thick, gray shades bordered the clouds; under an opaque belt, a
luminous line clearly traced the horizon. The crests of the billows were
tipped with a wild light, and the foam regained its whiteness. At the same
time on the left the hilly parts of the coast could be seen, though very
indistinctly.

At six o’clock day had broken. The clouds rapidly lifted. The seaman and
his companions were then about six miles from the Chimneys. They were
following a very flat shore bounded by a reef of rocks, whose heads
scarcely emerged from the sea, for they were in deep water. On the left, the
country appeared to be one vast extent of sandy downs, bristling with
thistles. There was no cliff, and the shore offered no resistance to the ocean
but a chain of irregular hillocks. Here and there grew two or three trees,
inclined towards the west, their branches projecting in that direction. Quite
behind, in the southwest, extended the border of the forest.
At this moment, Top became very excited. He ran forward, then returned,
and seemed to entreat them to hasten their steps. The dog then left the
beach, and guided by his wonderful instinct, without showing the least
hesitation, went straight in among the downs. They followed him. The
country appeared an absolute desert. Not a living creature was to be seen.
The downs, the extent of which was large, were composed of hillocks
and even of hills, very irregularly distributed. They resembled a Switzerland
modeled in sand, and only an amazing instinct could have possibly
recognized the way.
Five minutes after having left the beach, the reporter and his two
companions arrived at a sort of excavation, hollowed out at the back of a
high mound. There Top stopped, and gave a loud, clear bark. Spilett,
Herbert, and Pencroft dashed into the cave.
Neb was there, kneeling beside a body extended on a bed of grass.
The body was that of the engineer, Cyrus Harding.

Chapter 8
Neb did not move. Pencroft only uttered one word.
“Living?” he cried.
Neb did not reply. Spilett and the sailor turned pale. Herbert clasped his
hands, and remained motionless. The poor Negro, absorbed in his grief,
evidently had neither seen his companions nor heard the sailor speak.
The reporter knelt down beside the motionless body, and placed his ear to
the engineer’s chest, having first torn open his clothes.
A minute—an age!—passed, during which he endeavored to catch the
faintest throb of the heart.
Neb had raised himself a little and gazed without seeing. Despair had
completely changed his countenance. He could scarcely be recognized,
exhausted with fatigue, broken with grief. He believed his master was dead.
Gideon Spilett at last rose, after a long and attentive examination.
“He lives!” said he.
Pencroft knelt in his turn beside the engineer, he also heard a throbbing,
and even felt a slight breath on his cheek.
Herbert at a word from the reporter ran out to look for water. He found, a
hundred feet off, a limpid stream, which seemed to have been greatly
increased by the rains, and which filtered through the sand; but nothing in
which to put the water, not even a shell among the downs. The lad was
obliged to content himself with dipping his handkerchief in the stream, and
with it hastened back to the grotto.
Happily the wet handkerchief was enough for Gideon Spilett, who only
wished to wet the engineer’s lips. The cold water produced an almost
immediate effect. His chest heaved and he seemed to try to speak.
“We will save him!” exclaimed the reporter.
At these words hope revived in Neb’s heart. He undressed his master to
see if he was wounded, but not so much as a bruise was to be found, either
on the head, body, or limbs, which was surprising, as he must have been
dashed against the rocks; even the hands were uninjured, and it was difficult

to explain how the engineer showed no traces of the efforts which he must
have made to get out of reach of the breakers.
But the explanation would come later. When Cyrus was able to speak he
would say what had happened. For the present the question was, how to
recall him to life, and it appeared likely that rubbing would bring this about;
so they set to work with the sailor’s jersey.
The engineer, revived by this rude shampooing, moved his arm slightly
and began to breathe more regularly. He was sinking from exhaustion, and
certainly, had not the reporter and his companions arrived, it would have
been all over with Cyrus Harding.
“You thought your master was dead, didn’t you?” said the seaman to
Neb.
“Yes! quite dead!” replied Neb, “and if Top had not found you, and
brought you here, I should have buried my master, and then have lain down
on his grave to die!”
It had indeed been a narrow escape for Cyrus Harding!
Neb then recounted what had happened. The day before, after having left
the Chimneys at daybreak, he had ascended the coast in a northerly
direction, and had reached that part of the shore which he had already
visited.
There, without any hope he acknowledged, Neb had searched the beach,
among the rocks, on the sand, for the smallest trace to guide him. He
examined particularly that part of the beach which was not covered by the
high tide, for near the sea the water would have obliterated all marks. Neb
did not expect to find his master living. It was for a corpse that he searched,
a corpse which he wished to bury with his own hands!
He sought long in vain. This desert coast appeared never to have been
visited by a human creature. The shells, those which the sea had not
reached, and which might be met with by millions above high-water mark,
were untouched. Not a shell was broken.
Neb then resolved to walk along the beach for some miles. It was
possible that the waves had carried the body to quite a distant point. When a
corpse floats a little distance from a low shore, it rarely happens that the
tide does not throw it up, sooner or later. This Neb knew, and he wished to
see his master again for the last time.

“I went along the coast for another two miles, carefully examining the
beach, both at high and low water, and I had despaired of finding anything,
when yesterday, above five in the evening, I saw footprints on the sand.”
“Footprints?” exclaimed Pencroft.
“Yes!” replied Neb.
“Did these footprints begin at the water’s edge?” asked the reporter.
“No,” replied Neb, “only above high-water mark, for the others must
have been washed out by the tide.”
“Go on, Neb,” said Spilett.
“I went half crazy when I saw these footprints. They were very clear and
went towards the downs. I followed them for a quarter of a mile, running,
but taking care not to destroy them. Five minutes after, as it was getting
dark, I heard the barking of a dog. It was Top, and Top brought me here, to
my master!”
Neb ended his account by saying what had been his grief at finding the
inanimate body, in which he vainly sought for the least sign of life. Now
that he had found him dead he longed for him to be alive. All his efforts
were useless! Nothing remained to be done but to render the last duties to
the one whom he had loved so much! Neb then thought of his companions.
They, no doubt, would wish to see the unfortunate man again. Top was
there. Could he not rely on the sagacity of the faithful animal? Neb several
times pronounced the name of the reporter, the one among his companions
whom Top knew best.
Then he pointed to the south, and the dog bounded off in the direction
indicated to him.
We have heard how, guided by an instinct which might be looked upon
almost as supernatural, Top had found them.
Neb’s companions had listened with great attention to this account.
It was unaccountable to them how Cyrus Harding, after the efforts which
he must have made to escape from the waves by crossing the rocks, had not
received even a scratch. And what could not be explained either was how
the engineer had managed to get to this cave in the downs, more than a mile
from the shore.

“So, Neb,” said the reporter, “it was not you who brought your master to
this place.”
“No, it was not I,” replied the Negro.
“It’s very clear that the captain came here by himself,” said Pencroft.
“It is clear in reality,” observed Spilett, “but it is not credible!”
The explanation of this fact could only be produced from the engineer’s
own lips, and they must wait for that till speech returned. Rubbing had re-
established the circulation of the blood. Cyrus Harding moved his arm
again, then his head, and a few incomprehensible words escaped him.
Neb, who was bending over him, spoke, but the engineer did not appear
to hear, and his eyes remained closed. Life was only exhibited in him by
movement, his senses had not as yet been restored.
Pencroft much regretted not having either fire, or the means of procuring
it, for he had, unfortunately, forgotten to bring the burnt linen, which would
easily have ignited from the sparks produced by striking together two flints.
As to the engineer’s pockets, they were entirely empty, except that of his
waistcoat, which contained his watch. It was necessary to carry Harding to
the Chimneys, and that as soon as possible. This was the opinion of all.
Meanwhile, the care which was lavished on the engineer brought him
back to consciousness sooner than they could have expected. The water
with which they wetted his lips revived him gradually. Pencroft also
thought of mixing with the water some moisture from the titra’s flesh which
he had brought. Herbert ran to the beach and returned with two large
bivalve shells. The sailor concocted something which he introduced
between the lips of the engineer, who eagerly drinking it opened his eyes.
Neb and the reporter were leaning over him.
“My master! my master!” cried Neb.
The engineer heard him. He recognized Neb and Spilett, then his other
two companions, and his hand slightly pressed theirs.
A few words again escaped him, which showed what thoughts were, even
then, troubling his brain. This time he was understood. Undoubtedly they
were the same words he had before attempted to utter.
“Island or continent?” he murmured.

“Bother the continent,” cried Pencroft hastily; “there is time enough to
see about that, captain! we don’t care for anything, provided you are
living.”
The engineer nodded faintly, and then appeared to sleep.
They respected this sleep, and the reporter began immediately to make
arrangements for transporting Harding to a more comfortable place. Neb,
Herbert, and Pencroft left the cave and directed their steps towards a high
mound crowned with a few distorted trees. On the way the sailor could not
help repeating,—
“Island or continent! To think of that, when at one’s last gasp! What a
man!”
Arrived at the summit of the mound, Pencroft and his two companions
set to work, with no other tools than their hands, to despoil of its principal
branches a rather sickly tree, a sort of marine fir; with these branches they
made a litter, on which, covered with grass and leaves, they could carry the
engineer.
This occupied them nearly forty minutes, and it was ten o’clock when
they returned to Cyrus Harding whom Spilett had not left.
The engineer was just awaking from the sleep, or rather from the
drowsiness, in which they had found him. The color was returning to his
cheeks, which till now had been as pale as death. He raised himself a little,
looked around him, and appeared to ask where he was.
“Can you listen to me without fatigue, Cyrus?” asked the reporter.
“Yes,” replied the engineer.
“It’s my opinion,” said the sailor, “that Captain Harding will be able to
listen to you still better, if he will have some more grouse jelly,—for we
have grouse, captain,” added he, presenting him with a little of this jelly, to
which he this time added some of the flesh.
Cyrus Harding ate a little of the grouse, and the rest was divided among
his companions, who found it but a meager breakfast, for they were
suffering extremely from hunger.
“Well!” said the sailor, “there is plenty of food at the Chimneys, for you
must know, captain, that down there, in the south, we have a house, with
rooms, beds, and fireplace, and in the pantry, several dozen of birds, which

our Herbert calls couroucous. Your litter is ready, and as soon as you feel
strong enough we will carry you home.”
“Thanks, my friend,” replied the engineer; “wait another hour or two, and
then we will set out. And now speak, Spilett.”
The reporter then told him all that had occurred. He recounted all the
events with which Cyrus was unacquainted, the last fall of the balloon, the
landing on this unknown land, which appeared a desert (whatever it was,
whether island or continent), the discovery of the Chimneys, the search for
him, not forgetting of course Neb’s devotion, the intelligence exhibited by
the faithful Top, as well as many other matters.
“But,” asked Harding, in a still feeble voice, “you did not, then, pick me
up on the beach?”
“No,” replied the reporter.
“And did you not bring me to this cave?”
“No.”
“At what distance is this cave from the sea?”
“About a mile,” replied Pencroft; “and if you are astonished, captain, we
are not less surprised ourselves at seeing you in this place!”
“Indeed,” said the engineer, who was recovering gradually, and who took
great interest in these details, “indeed it is very singular!”
“But,” resumed the sailor, “can you tell us what happened after you were
carried off by the sea?”
Cyrus Harding considered. He knew very little. The wave had torn him
from the balloon net. He sank at first several fathoms. On returning to the
surface, in the half light, he felt a living creature struggling near him. It was
Top, who had sprung to his help. He saw nothing of the balloon, which,
lightened both of his weight and that of the dog, had darted away like an
arrow.
There he was, in the midst of the angry sea, at a distance which could not
be less than half a mile from the shore. He attempted to struggle against the
billows by swimming vigorously. Top held him up by his clothes; but a
strong current seized him and drove him towards the north, and after half an
hour of exertion, he sank, dragging Top with him into the depths. From that

moment to the moment in which he recovered to find himself in the arms of
his friends he remembered nothing.
“However,” remarked Pencroft, “you must have been thrown on to the
beach, and you must have had strength to walk here, since Neb found your
footmarks!”
“Yes... of course,” replied the engineer, thoughtfully; “and you found no
traces of human beings on this coast?”
“Not a trace,” replied the reporter; “besides, if by chance you had met
with some deliverer there, just in the nick of time, why should he have
abandoned you after having saved you from the waves?”
“You are right, my dear Spilett. Tell me, Neb,” added the engineer,
turning to his servant, “it was not you who... you can’t have had a moment
of unconsciousness... during which no, that’s absurd.... Do any of the
footsteps still remain?” asked Harding.
“Yes, master,” replied Neb; “here, at the entrance, at the back of the
mound, in a place sheltered from the rain and wind. The storm has
destroyed the others.”
“Pencroft,” said Cyrus Harding, “will you take my shoe and see if it fits
exactly to the footprints?”
The sailor did as the engineer requested. While he and Herbert, guided by
Neb, went to the place where the footprints were to be found, Cyrus
remarked to the reporter,—
“It is a most extraordinary thing!”
“Perfectly inexplicable!” replied Gideon Spilett.
“But do not dwell upon it just now, my dear Spilett, we will talk about it
by-and-by.”
A moment after the others entered.
There was no doubt about it. The engineer’s shoe fitted exactly to the
footmarks. It was therefore Cyrus Harding who had left them on the sand.
“Come,” said he, “I must have experienced this unconsciousness which I
attributed to Neb. I must have walked like a somnambulist, without any
knowledge of my steps, and Top must have guided me here, after having
dragged me from the waves... Come, Top! Come, old dog!”

The magnificent animal bounded barking to his master, and caresses were
lavished on him. It was agreed that there was no other way of accounting
for the rescue of Cyrus Harding, and that Top deserved all the honor of the
affair.
Towards twelve o’clock, Pencroft having asked the engineer if they could
now remove him, Harding, instead of replying, and by an effort which
exhibited the most energetic will, got up. But he was obliged to lean on the
sailor, or he would have fallen.
“Well done!” cried Pencroft; “bring the captain’s litter.”
The litter was brought; the transverse branches had been covered with
leaves and long grass. Harding was laid on it, and Pencroft, having taken
his place at one end and Neb at the other, they started towards the coast.
There was a distance of eight miles to be accomplished; but, as they could
not go fast, and it would perhaps be necessary to stop frequently, they
reckoned that it would take at least six hours to reach the Chimneys. The
wind was still strong, but fortunately it did not rain. Although lying down,
the engineer, leaning on his elbow, observed the coast, particularly inland.
He did not speak, but he gazed; and, no doubt, the appearance of the
country, with its inequalities of ground, its forests, its various productions,
were impressed on his mind. However, after traveling for two hours, fatigue
overcame him, and he slept.
At half-past five the little band arrived at the precipice, and a short time
after at the Chimneys.
They stopped, and the litter was placed on the sand; Cyrus Harding was
sleeping profoundly, and did not awake.
Pencroft, to his extreme surprise, found that the terrible storm had quite
altered the aspect of the place. Important changes had occurred; great
blocks of stone lay on the beach, which was also covered with a thick carpet
of sea-weed, algae, and wrack. Evidently the sea, passing over the islet, had
been carried right up to the foot of the enormous curtain of granite. The soil
in front of the cave had been torn away by the violence of the waves. A
horrid presentiment flashed across Pencroft’s mind. He rushed into the
passage, but returned almost immediately, and stood motionless, staring at
his companions.... The fire was out; the drowned cinders were nothing but
mud; the burnt linen, which was to have served as tinder, had disappeared!

The sea had penetrated to the end of the passages, and everything was
overthrown and destroyed in the interior of the Chimneys!

Chapter 9
In a few words, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, and Neb were made acquainted
with what had happened. This accident, which appeared so very serious to
Pencroft, produced different effects on the companions of the honest sailor.
Neb, in his delight at having found his master, did not listen, or rather,
did not care to trouble himself with what Pencroft was saying.
Herbert shared in some degree the sailor’s feelings.
As to the reporter, he simply replied,—
“Upon my word, Pencroft, it’s perfectly indifferent to me!”
“But, I repeat, that we haven’t any fire!”
“Pooh!”
“Nor any means of relighting it!”
“Nonsense!”
“But I say, Mr. Spilett—”
“Isn’t Cyrus here?” replied the reporter.
“Is not our engineer alive? He will soon find some way of making fire for
us!”
“With what?”
“With nothing.”
What had Pencroft to say? He could say nothing, for, in the bottom of his
heart he shared the confidence which his companions had in Cyrus Harding.
The engineer was to them a microcosm, a compound of every science, a
possessor of all human knowledge. It was better to be with Cyrus in a desert
island, than without him in the most flourishing town in the United States.
With him they could want nothing; with him they would never despair. If
these brave men had been told that a volcanic eruption would destroy the
land, that this land would be engulfed in the depths of the Pacific, they
would have imperturbably replied,—
“Cyrus is here!”

While in the palanquin, however, the engineer had again relapsed into
unconsciousness, which the jolting to which he had been subjected during
his journey had brought on, so that they could not now appeal to his
ingenuity. The supper must necessarily be very meager. In fact, all the
grouse flesh had been consumed, and there no longer existed any means of
cooking more game. Besides, the couroucous which had been reserved had
disappeared. They must consider what was to be done.
First of all, Cyrus Harding was carried into the central passage. There
they managed to arrange for him a couch of sea-weed which still remained
almost dry. The deep sleep which had overpowered him would no doubt be
more beneficial to him than any nourishment.
Night had closed in, and the temperature, which had modified when the
wind shifted to the northwest, again became extremely cold. Also, the sea
having destroyed the partitions which Pencroft had put up in certain places
in the passages, the Chimneys, on account of the draughts, had become
scarcely habitable. The engineer’s condition would, therefore, have been
bad enough, if his companions had not carefully covered him with their
coats and waistcoats.
Supper, this evening, was of course composed of the inevitable
lithodomes, of which Herbert and Neb picked up a plentiful supply on the
beach. However, to these molluscs, the lad added some edible sea-weed,
which he gathered on high rocks, whose sides were only washed by the sea
at the time of high tides. This sea-weed, which belongs to the order of
Fucacae, of the genus Sargassum, produces, when dry, a gelatinous matter,
rich and nutritious. The reporter and his companions, after having eaten a
quantity of lithodomes, sucked the sargassum, of which the taste was very
tolerable. It is used in parts of the East very considerably by the natives.
“Never mind!” said the sailor, “the captain will help us soon.” Meanwhile
the cold became very severe, and unhappily they had no means of
defending themselves from it.
The sailor, extremely vexed, tried in all sorts of ways to procure fire. Neb
helped him in this work. He found some dry moss, and by striking together
two pebbles he obtained some sparks, but the moss, not being inflammable
enough, did not take fire, for the sparks were really only incandescent, and
not at all of the same consistency as those which are emitted from flint

when struck in the same manner. The experiment, therefore, did not
succeed.
Pencroft, although he had no confidence in the proceeding, then tried
rubbing two pieces of dry wood together, as savages do. Certainly, the
movement which he and Neb exhibited, if it had been transformed into heat,
according to the new theory, would have been enough to heat the boiler of a
steamer! It came to nothing. The bits of wood became hot, to be sure, but
much less so than the operators themselves.
After working an hour, Pencroft, who was in a complete state of
perspiration, threw down the pieces of wood in disgust.
“I can never be made to believe that savages light their fires in this way,
let them say what they will,” he exclaimed. “I could sooner light my arms
by rubbing them against each other!”
The sailor was wrong to despise the proceeding. Savages often kindle
wood by means of rapid rubbing. But every sort of wood does not answer
for the purpose, and besides, there is “the knack,” following the usual
expression, and it is probable that Pencroft had not “the knack.”
Pencroft’s ill humor did not last long. Herbert had taken the bits of wood
which he had turned down, and was exerting himself to rub them. The
hardy sailor could not restrain a burst of laughter on seeing the efforts of the
lad to succeed where he had failed.
“Rub, my boy, rub!” said he.
“I am rubbing,” replied Herbert, laughing, “but I don’t pretend to do
anything else but warm myself instead of shivering, and soon I shall be as
hot as you are, my good Pencroft!”
This soon happened. However, they were obliged to give up, for this
night at least, the attempt to procure fire. Gideon Spilett repeated, for the
twentieth time, that Cyrus Harding would not have been troubled for so
small a difficulty. And, in the meantime, he stretched himself in one of the
passages on his bed of sand. Herbert, Neb, and Pencroft did the same, while
Top slept at his master’s feet.
Next day, the 28th of March, when the engineer awoke, about eight in the
morning, he saw his companions around him watching his sleep, and, as on
the day before, his first words were:—
“Island or continent?” This was his uppermost thought.

“Well!” replied Pencroft, “we don’t know anything about it, captain!”
“You don’t know yet?”
“But we shall know,” rejoined Pencroft, “when you have guided us into
the country.”
“I think I am able to try it,” replied the engineer, who, without much
effort, rose and stood upright.
“That’s capital!” cried the sailor.
“I feel dreadfully weak,” replied Harding. “Give me something to eat, my
friends, and it will soon go off. You have fire, haven’t you?”
This question was not immediately replied to. But, in a few seconds—
“Alas! we have no fire,” said Pencroft, “or rather, captain, we have it no
longer!”
And the sailor recounted all that had passed the day before. He amused
the engineer by the history of the single match, then his abortive attempt to
procure fire in the savages’ way.
“We shall consider,” replied the engineer, “and if we do not find some
substance similar to tinder—”
“Well?” asked the sailor.
“Well, we will make matches.
“Chemicals?”
“Chemicals!”
“It is not more difficult than that,” cried the reporter, striking the sailor on
the shoulder.
The latter did not think it so simple, but he did not protest. All went out.
The weather had become very fine. The sun was rising from the sea’s
horizon, and touched with golden spangles the prismatic rugosities of the
huge precipice.
Having thrown a rapid glance around him, the engineer seated himself on
a block of stone. Herbert offered him a few handfuls of shell-fish and
sargassum, saying,—
“It is all that we have, Captain Harding.”
“Thanks, my boy,” replied Harding; “it will do—for this morning at
least.”

He ate the wretched food with appetite, and washed it down with a little
fresh water, drawn from the river in an immense shell.
His companions looked at him without speaking. Then, feeling somewhat
refreshed, Cyrus Harding crossed his arms, and said,—
“So, my friends, you do not know yet whether fate has thrown us on an
island, or on a continent?”
“No, captain,” replied the boy.
“We shall know to-morrow,” said the engineer; “till then, there is nothing
to be done.”
“Yes,” replied Pencroft.
“What?”
“Fire,” said the sailor, who, also, had a fixed idea.
“We will make it, Pencroft,” replied Harding.
“While you were carrying me yesterday, did I not see in the west a
mountain which commands the country?”
“Yes,” replied Spilett, “a mountain which must be rather high—”
“Well,” replied the engineer, “we will climb to the summit to-morrow,
and then we shall see if this land is an island or a continent. Till then, I
repeat, there is nothing to be done.”
“Yes, fire!” said the obstinate sailor again.
“But he will make us a fire!” replied Gideon Spilett, “only have a little
patience, Pencroft!”
The seaman looked at Spilett in a way which seemed to say, “If it
depended upon you to do it, we wouldn’t taste roast meat very soon”; but he
was silent.
Meanwhile Captain Harding had made no reply. He appeared to be very
little troubled by the question of fire. For a few minutes he remained
absorbed in thought; then again speaking,—
“My friends,” said he, “our situation is, perhaps, deplorable; but, at any
rate, it is very plain. Either we are on a continent, and then, at the expense
of greater or less fatigue, we shall reach some inhabited place, or we are on
an island. In the latter case, if the island is inhabited, we will try to get out
of the scrape with the help of its inhabitants; if it is desert, we will try to get
out of the scrape by ourselves.”

“Certainly, nothing could be plainer,” replied Pencroft.
“But, whether it is an island or a continent,” asked Gideon Spilett,
“whereabouts do you think, Cyrus, this storm has thrown us?”
“I cannot say exactly,” replied the engineer, “but I presume it is some
land in the Pacific. In fact, when we left Richmond, the wind was blowing
from the northeast, and its very violence greatly proves that it could not
have varied. If the direction has been maintained from the northeast to the
southwest, we have traversed the States of North Carolina, of South
Carolina, of Georgia, the Gulf of Mexico, Mexico, itself, in its narrow part,
then a part of the Pacific Ocean. I cannot estimate the distance traversed by
the balloon at less than six to seven thousand miles, and, even supposing
that the wind had varied half a quarter, it must have brought us either to the
archipelago of Mendava, either on the Pomotous, or even, if it had a greater
strength than I suppose, to the land of New Zealand. If the last hypothesis is
correct, it will be easy enough to get home again. English or Maoris, we
shall always find some one to whom we can speak. If, on the contrary, this
is the coast of a desert island in some tiny archipelago, perhaps we shall be
able to reconnoiter it from the summit of that peak which overlooks the
country, and then we shall see how best to establish ourselves here as if we
are never to go away.”
“Never?” cried the reporter. “You say ‘Never,’ my dear Cyrus?”
“Better to put things at the worst at first,” replied the engineer, “and
reserve the best for a surprise.”
“Well said,” remarked Pencroft. “It is to be hoped, too, that this island, if
it be one, is not situated just out of the course of ships; that would be really
unlucky!”
“We shall not know what we have to rely on until we have first made the
ascent of the mountain,” replied the engineer.
“But to-morrow, captain,” asked Herbert, “shall you be in a state to bear
the fatigue of the ascent?”
“I hope so,” replied the engineer, “provided you and Pencroft, my boy,
show yourselves quick and clever hunters.”
“Captain,” said the sailor, “since you are speaking of game, if on my
return, I was as certain of roasting it as I am of bringing it back—”
“Bring it back all the same, Pencroft,” replied Harding.

It was then agreed that the engineer and the reporter were to pass the day
at the Chimneys, so as to examine the shore and the upper plateau. Neb,
Herbert, and the sailor were to return to the forest, renew their store of
wood, and lay violent hands on every creature, feathered or hairy, which
might come within their reach.
They set out accordingly about ten o’clock in the morning, Herbert
confident, Neb joyous, Pencroft murmuring aside,—
“If, on my return, I find a fire at the house, I shall believe that the thunder
itself came to light it.” All three climbed the bank; and arrived at the angle
made by the river, the sailor, stopping, said to his two companions,—
“Shall we begin by being hunters or wood-men?”
“Hunters,” replied Herbert. “There is Top already in quest.”
“We will hunt, then,” said the sailor, “and afterwards we can come back
and collect our wood.”
This agreed to, Herbert, Neb, and Pencroft, after having torn three sticks
from the trunk of a young fir, followed Top, who was bounding about
among the long grass.
This time, the hunters, instead of following the course of the river,
plunged straight into the heart of the forest. There were still the same trees,
belonging, for the most part, to the pine family. In certain places, less
crowded, growing in clumps, these pines exhibited considerable
dimensions, and appeared to indicate, by their development, that the
country was situated in a higher latitude than the engineer had supposed.
Glades, bristling with stumps worn away by time, were covered with dry
wood, which formed an inexhaustible store of fuel. Then, the glade passed,
the underwood thickened again, and became almost impenetrable.
It was difficult enough to find the way among the groups of trees, without
any beaten track. So the sailor from time to time broke off branches which
might be easily recognized. But, perhaps, he was wrong not to follow the
watercourse, as he and Herbert had done on their first excursion, for after
walking an hour not a creature had shown itself. Top, running under the
branches, only roused birds which could not be approached. Even the
couroucous were invisible, and it was probable that the sailor would be
obliged to return to the marshy part of the forest, in which he had so happily
performed his grouse fishing.

“Well, Pencroft,” said Neb, in a slightly sarcastic tone, “if this is all the
game which you promised to bring back to my master, it won’t need a large
fire to roast it!”
“Have patience,” replied the sailor, “it isn’t the game which will be
wanting on our return.”
“Have you not confidence in Captain Harding?”
“Yes.”
“But you don’t believe that he will make fire?”
“I shall believe it when the wood is blazing in the fireplace.”
“It will blaze, since my master has said so.”
“We shall see!”
Meanwhile, the sun had not reached the highest point in its course above
the horizon. The exploration, therefore, continued, and was usefully marked
by a discovery which Herbert made of a tree whose fruit was edible. This
was the stone-pine, which produces an excellent almond, very much
esteemed in the temperate regions of America and Europe. These almonds
were in a perfect state of maturity, and Herbert described them to his
companions, who feasted on them.
“Come,” said Pencroft, “sea-weed by way of bread, raw mussels for
meat, and almonds for dessert, that’s certainly a good dinner for those who
have not a single match in their pocket!”
“We mustn’t complain,” said Herbert.
“I am not complaining, my boy,” replied Pencroft, “only I repeat, that
meat is a little too much economized in this sort of meal.”
“Top has found something!” cried Neb, who ran towards a thicket, in the
midst of which the dog had disappeared, barking. With Top’s barking were
mingled curious gruntings.
The sailor and Herbert had followed Neb. If there was game there this
was not the time to discuss how it was to be cooked, but rather, how they
were to get hold of it.
The hunters had scarcely entered the bushes when they saw Top engaged
in a struggle with an animal which he was holding by the ear. This
quadruped was a sort of pig nearly two feet and a half long, of a blackish
brown color, lighter below, having hard scanty hair; its toes, then strongly

fixed in the ground, seemed to be united by a membrane. Herbert
recognized in this animal the capybara, that is to say, one of the largest
members of the rodent order.
Meanwhile, the capybara did not struggle against the dog. It stupidly
rolled its eyes, deeply buried in a thick bed of fat. Perhaps it saw men for
the first time.
However, Neb having tightened his grasp on his stick, was just going to
fell the pig, when the latter, tearing itself from Top’s teeth, by which it was
only held by the tip of its ear, uttered a vigorous grunt, rushed upon
Herbert, almost overthrew him, and disappeared in the wood.
“The rascal!” cried Pencroft.
All three directly darted after Top, but at the moment when they joined
him the animal had disappeared under the waters of a large pond shaded by
venerable pines.
Neb, Herbert, and Pencroft stopped, motionless. Top plunged into the
water, but the capybara, hidden at the bottom of the pond, did not appear.
“Let us wait,” said the boy, “for he will soon come to the surface to
breathe.”
“Won’t he drown?” asked Neb.
“No,” replied Herbert, “since he has webbed feet, and is almost an
amphibious animal. But watch him.”
Top remained in the water. Pencroft and his two companions went to
different parts of the bank, so as to cut off the retreat of the capybara, which
the dog was looking for beneath the water.
Herbert was not mistaken. In a few minutes the animal appeared on the
surface of the water. Top was upon it in a bound, and kept it from plunging
again. An instant later the capybara, dragged to the bank, was killed by a
blow from Neb’s stick.
“Hurrah!” cried Pencroft, who was always ready with this cry of triumph.
“Give me but a good fire, and this pig shall be gnawed to the bones!”
Pencroft hoisted the capybara on his shoulders, and judging by the height
of the sun that it was about two o’clock, he gave the signal to return.
Top’s instinct was useful to the hunters, who, thanks to the intelligent
animal, were enabled to discover the road by which they had come. Half an

hour later they arrived at the river.
Pencroft soon made a raft of wood, as he had done before, though if there
was no fire it would be a useless task, and the raft following the current,
they returned towards the Chimneys.
But the sailor had not gone fifty paces when he stopped, and again
uttering a tremendous hurrah, pointed towards the angle of the cliff,—
“Herbert! Neb! Look!” he shouted.
Smoke was escaping and curling up among the rocks.

Chapter 10
In a few minutes the three hunters were before a crackling fire. The
captain and the reporter were there. Pencroft looked from one to the other,
his capybara in his hand, without saying a word.
“Well, yes, my brave fellow,” cried the reporter.
“Fire, real fire, which will roast this splendid pig perfectly, and we will
have a feast presently!”
“But who lighted it?” asked Pencroft.
“The sun!”
Gideon Spilett was quite right in his reply. It was the sun which had
furnished the heat which so astonished Pencroft. The sailor could scarcely
believe his eyes, and he was so amazed that he did not think of questioning
the engineer.
“Had you a burning-glass, sir?” asked Herbert of Harding.
“No, my boy,” replied he, “but I made one.”
And he showed the apparatus which served for a burning-glass. It was
simply two glasses which he had taken from his own and the reporter’s
watches. Having filled them with water and rendered their edges adhesive
by means of a little clay, he thus fabricated a regular burning-glass, which,
concentrating the solar rays on some very dry moss, soon caused it to blaze.
The sailor considered the apparatus; then he gazed at the engineer
without saying a word, only a look plainly expressed his opinion that if
Cyrus Harding was not a magician, he was certainly no ordinary man. At
last speech returned to him, and he cried,—
“Note that, Mr. Spilett, note that down on your paper!”
“It is noted,” replied the reporter.
Then, Neb helping him, the seaman arranged the spit, and the capybara,
properly cleaned, was soon roasting like a suckling-pig before a clear,
crackling fire.

The Chimneys had again become more habitable, not only because the
passages were warmed by the fire, but because the partitions of wood and
mud had been re-established.
It was evident that the engineer and his companions had employed their
day well. Cyrus Harding had almost entirely recovered his strength, and had
proved it by climbing to the upper plateau. From this point his eye,
accustomed to estimate heights and distances, was fixed for a long time on
the cone, the summit of which he wished to reach the next day. The
mountain, situated about six miles to the northwest, appeared to him to
measure 3,500 feet above the level of the sea. Consequently the gaze of an
observer posted on its summit would extend over a radius of at least fifty
miles. Therefore it was probable that Harding could easily solve the
question of “island or continent,” to which he attached so much importance.
They supped capitally. The flesh of the capybara was declared excellent.
The sargassum and the almonds of the stone-pine completed the repast,
during which the engineer spoke little. He was preoccupied with projects
for the next day.
Once or twice Pencroft gave forth some ideas upon what it would be best
to do; but Cyrus Harding, who was evidently of a methodical mind, only
shook his head without uttering a word.
“To-morrow,” he repeated, “we shall know what we have to depend
upon, and we will act accordingly.”
The meal ended, fresh armfuls of wood were thrown on the fire, and the
inhabitants of the Chimneys, including the faithful Top, were soon buried in
a deep sleep.
No incident disturbed this peaceful night, and the next day, the 29th of
March, fresh and active they awoke, ready to undertake the excursion which
must determine their fate.
All was ready for the start. The remains of the capybara would be enough
to sustain Harding and his companions for at least twenty-four hours.
Besides, they hoped to find more food on the way. As the glasses had
been returned to the watches of the engineer and reporter, Pencroft burned a
little linen to serve as tinder. As to flint, that would not be wanting in these
regions of Plutonic origin. It was half-past seven in the morning when the
explorers, armed with sticks, left the Chimneys. Following Pencroft’s

advice, it appeared best to take the road already traversed through the
forest, and to return by another route. It was also the most direct way to
reach the mountain. They turned the south angle and followed the left bank
of the river, which was abandoned at the point where it formed an elbow
towards the southwest. The path, already trodden under the evergreen trees,
was found, and at nine o’clock Cyrus Harding and his companions had
reached the western border of the forest. The ground, till then, very little
undulated, boggy at first, dry and sandy afterwards, had a gentle slope,
which ascended from the shore towards the interior of the country. A few
very timid animals were seen under the forest-trees. Top quickly started
them, but his master soon called him back, for the time had not come to
commence hunting; that would be attended to later. The engineer was not a
man who would allow himself to be diverted from his fixed idea. It might
even have been said that he did not observe the country at all, either in its
configuration or in its natural productions, his great aim being to climb the
mountain before him, and therefore straight towards it he went. At ten
o’clock a halt of a few minutes was made. On leaving the forest, the
mountain system of the country appeared before the explorers. The
mountain was composed of two cones; the first, truncated at a height of
about two thousand five hundred feet, was sustained by buttresses, which
appeared to branch out like the talons of an immense claw set on the
ground. Between these were narrow valleys, bristling with trees, the last
clumps of which rose to the top of the lowest cone. There appeared to be
less vegetation on that side of the mountain which was exposed to the
northeast, and deep fissures could be seen which, no doubt, were
watercourses.
On the first cone rested a second, slightly rounded, and placed a little on
one side, like a great round hat cocked over the ear. A Scotchman would
have said, “His bonnet was a thocht ajee.” It appeared formed of bare earth,
here and there pierced by reddish rocks.
They wished to reach the second cone, and proceeding along the ridge of
the spurs seemed to be the best way by which to gain it.
“We are on volcanic ground,” Cyrus Harding had said, and his
companions following him began to ascend by degrees on the back of a
spur, which, by a winding and consequently more accessible path, joined
the first plateau.

The ground had evidently been convulsed by subterranean force. Here
and there stray blocks, numerous debris of basalt and pumice-stone, were
met with. In isolated groups rose fir-trees, which, some hundred feet lower,
at the bottom of the narrow gorges, formed massive shades almost
impenetrable to the sun’s rays.
During the first part of the ascent, Herbert remarked on the footprints
which indicated the recent passage of large animals.
“Perhaps these beasts will not let us pass by willingly,” said Pencroft.
“Well,” replied the reporter, who had already hunted the tiger in India,
and the lion in Africa, “we shall soon learn how successfully to encounter
them. But in the meantime we must be upon our guard!”
They ascended but slowly.
The distance, increased by detours and obstacles which could not be
surmounted directly, was long. Sometimes, too, the ground suddenly fell,
and they found themselves on the edge of a deep chasm which they had to
go round. Thus, in retracing their steps so as to find some practicable path,
much time was employed and fatigue undergone for nothing. At twelve
o’clock, when the small band of adventurers halted for breakfast at the foot
of a large group of firs, near a little stream which fell in cascades, they
found themselves still half way from the first plateau, which most probably
they would not reach till nightfall. From this point the view of the sea was
much extended, but on the right the high promontory prevented their seeing
whether there was land beyond it. On the left, the sight extended several
miles to the north; but, on the northwest, at the point occupied by the
explorers, it was cut short by the ridge of a fantastically-shaped spur, which
formed a powerful support of the central cone.
At one o’clock the ascent was continued. They slanted more towards the
southwest and again entered among thick bushes. There under the shade of
the trees fluttered several couples of gallinaceae belonging to the pheasant
species. They were tragopans, ornamented by a pendant skin which hangs
over their throats, and by two small, round horns, planted behind the eyes.
Among these birds, which were about the size of a fowl, the female was
uniformly brown, while the male was gorgeous in his red plumage,
decorated with white spots. Gideon Spilett, with a stone cleverly and
vigorously thrown, killed one of these tragopans, on which Pencroft, made
hungry by the fresh air, had cast greedy eyes.

After leaving the region of bushes, the party, assisted by resting on each
other’s shoulders, climbed for about a hundred feet up a steep acclivity and
reached a level place, with very few trees, where the soil appeared volcanic.
It was necessary to ascend by zigzags to make the slope more easy, for it
was very steep, and the footing being exceedingly precarious required the
greatest caution. Neb and Herbert took the lead, Pencroft the rear, the
captain and the reporter between them. The animals which frequented these
heights—and there were numerous traces of them—must necessarily belong
to those races of sure foot and supple spine, chamois or goat. Several were
seen, but this was not the name Pencroft gave them, for all of a sudden
—“Sheep!” he shouted.
All stopped about fifty feet from half-a-dozen animals of a large size,
with strong horns bent back and flattened towards the point, with a woolly
fleece, hidden under long silky hair of a tawny color.
They were not ordinary sheep, but a species usually found in the
mountainous regions of the temperate zone, to which Herbert gave the
name of the musmon.
“Have they legs and chops?” asked the sailor.
“Yes,” replied Herbert.
“Well, then, they are sheep!” said Pencroft.
The animals, motionless among the blocks of basalt, gazed with an
astonished eye, as if they saw human bipeds for the first time. Then their
fears suddenly aroused, they disappeared, bounding over the rocks.
“Good-bye, till we meet again,” cried Pencroft, as he watched them, in
such a comical tone that Cyrus Harding, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, and Neb
could not help laughing.
The ascent was continued. Here and there were traces of lava. Sulphur
springs sometimes stopped their way, and they had to go round them. In
some places the sulphur had formed crystals among other substances, such
as whitish cinders made of an infinity of little feldspar crystals.
In approaching the first plateau formed by the truncating of the lower
cone, the difficulties of the ascent were very great. Towards four o’clock the
extreme zone of the trees had been passed. There only remained here and
there a few twisted, stunted pines, which must have had a hard life in
resisting at this altitude the high winds from the open sea. Happily for the

engineer and his companions the weather was beautiful, the atmosphere
tranquil; for a high breeze at an elevation of three thousand feet would have
hindered their proceedings. The purity of the sky at the zenith was felt
through the transparent air. A perfect calm reigned around them. They could
not see the sun, then hid by the vast screen of the upper cone, which masked
the half-horizon of the west, and whose enormous shadow stretching to the
shore increased as the radiant luminary sank in its diurnal course. Vapor—
mist rather than clouds—began to appear in the east, and assume all the
prismatic colors under the influence of the solar rays.
Five hundred feet only separated the explorers from the plateau, which
they wished to reach so as to establish there an encampment for the night,
but these five hundred feet were increased to more than two miles by the
zigzags which they had to describe. The soil, as it were, slid under their
feet.
The slope often presented such an angle that they slipped when the stones
worn by the air did not give a sufficient support. Evening came on by
degrees, and it was almost night when Cyrus Harding and his companions,
much fatigued by an ascent of seven hours, arrived at the plateau of the first
cone. It was then necessary to prepare an encampment, and to restore their
strength by eating first and sleeping afterwards. This second stage of the
mountain rose on a base of rocks, among which it would be easy to find a
retreat. Fuel was not abundant. However, a fire could be made by means of
the moss and dry brushwood, which covered certain parts of the plateau.
While the sailor was preparing his hearth with stones which he put to this
use, Neb and Herbert occupied themselves with getting a supply of fuel.
They soon returned with a load of brushwood. The steel was struck, the
burnt linen caught the sparks of flint, and, under Neb’s breath, a crackling
fire showed itself in a few minutes under the shelter of the rocks. Their
object in lighting a fire was only to enable them to withstand the cold
temperature of the night, as it was not employed in cooking the bird, which
Neb kept for the next day. The remains of the capybara and some dozens of
the stone-pine almonds formed their supper. It was not half-past six when
all was finished.
Cyrus Harding then thought of exploring in the half-light the large
circular layer which supported the upper cone of the mountain. Before
taking any rest, he wished to know if it was possible to get round the base

of the cone in the case of its sides being too steep and its summit being
inaccessible. This question preoccupied him, for it was possible that from
the way the hat inclined, that is to say, towards the north, the plateau was
not practicable. Also, if the summit of the mountain could not be reached on
one side, and if, on the other, they could not get round the base of the cone,
it would be impossible to survey the western part of the country, and their
object in making the ascent would in part be altogether unattained.
The engineer, accordingly, regardless of fatigue, leaving Pencroft and
Neb to arrange the beds, and Gideon Spilett to note the incidents of the day,
began to follow the edge of the plateau, going towards the north. Herbert
accompanied him.
The night was beautiful and still, the darkness was not yet deep. Cyrus
Harding and the boy walked near each other, without speaking. In some
places the plateau opened before them, and they passed without hindrance.
In others, obstructed by rocks, there was only a narrow path, in which two
persons could not walk abreast. After a walk of twenty minutes, Cyrus
Harding and Herbert were obliged to stop. From this point the slope of the
two cones became one. No shoulder here separated the two parts of the
mountain. The slope, being inclined almost seventy degrees, the path
became impracticable.
But if the engineer and the boy were obliged to give up thoughts of
following a circular direction, in return an opportunity was given for
ascending the cone.
In fact, before them opened a deep hollow. It was the rugged mouth of
the crater, by which the eruptive liquid matter had escaped at the periods
when the volcano was still in activity. Hardened lava and crusted scoria
formed a sort of natural staircase of large steps, which would greatly
facilitate the ascent to the summit of the mountain.
Harding took all this in at a glance, and without hesitating, followed by
the lad, he entered the enormous chasm in the midst of an increasing
obscurity.
There was still a height of a thousand feet to overcome. Would the
interior acclivities of the crater be practicable? It would soon be seen. The
persevering engineer resolved to continue his ascent until he was stopped.
Happily these acclivities wound up the interior of the volcano and favored
their ascent.

As to the volcano itself, it could not be doubted that it was completely
extinct. No smoke escaped from its sides; not a flame could be seen in the
dark hollows; not a roar, not a mutter, no trembling even issued from this
black well, which perhaps reached far into the bowels of the earth. The
atmosphere inside the crater was filled with no sulphurous vapor. It was
more than the sleep of a volcano; it was its complete extinction. Cyrus
Harding’s attempt would succeed.
Little by little, Herbert and he climbing up the sides of the interior, saw
the crater widen above their heads. The radius of this circular portion of the
sky, framed by the edge of the cone, increased obviously. At each step, as it
were, that the explorers made, fresh stars entered the field of their vision.
The magnificent constellations of the southern sky shone resplendently. At
the zenith glittered the splendid Antares in the Scorpion, and not far was
Alpha Centauri, which is believed to be the nearest star to the terrestrial
globe. Then, as the crater widened, appeared Fomalhaut of the Fish, the
Southern Triangle, and lastly, nearly at the Antarctic Pole, the glittering
Southern Cross, which replaces the Polar Star of the Northern Hemisphere.
It was nearly eight o’clock when Cyrus Harding and Herbert set foot on
the highest ridge of the mountain at the summit of the cone.
It was then perfectly dark, and their gaze could not extend over a radius
of two miles. Did the sea surround this unknown land, or was it connected
in the west with some continent of the Pacific? It could not yet be made out.
Towards the west, a cloudy belt, clearly visible at the horizon, increased the
gloom, and the eye could not discover if the sky and water were blended
together in the same circular line.
But at one point of the horizon a vague light suddenly appeared, which
descended slowly in proportion as the cloud mounted to the zenith.
It was the slender crescent moon, already almost disappearing; but its
light was sufficient to show clearly the horizontal line, then detached from
the cloud, and the engineer could see its reflection trembling for an instant
on a liquid surface. Cyrus Harding seized the lad’s hand, and in a grave
voice,—
“An island!” said he, at the moment when the lunar crescent disappeared
beneath the waves.

Chapter 11
Half an hour later Cyrus Harding and Herbert had returned to the
encampment. The engineer merely told his companions that the land upon
which fate had thrown them was an island, and that the next day they would
consult. Then each settled himself as well as he could to sleep, and in that
rocky hole, at a height of two thousand five hundred feet above the level of
the sea, through a peaceful night, the islanders enjoyed profound repose.
The next day, the 30th of March, after a hasty breakfast, which consisted
solely of the roasted tragopan, the engineer wished to climb again to the
summit of the volcano, so as more attentively to survey the island upon
which he and his companions were imprisoned for life perhaps, should the
island be situated at a great distance from any land, or if it was out of the
course of vessels which visited the archipelagoes of the Pacific Ocean. This
time his companions followed him in the new exploration. They also
wished to see the island, on the productions of which they must depend for
the supply of all their wants.
It was about seven o’clock in the morning when Cyrus Harding, Herbert,
Pencroft, Gideon Spilett, and Neb quitted the encampment. No one
appeared to be anxious about their situation. They had faith in themselves,
doubtless, but it must be observed that the basis of this faith was not the
same with Harding as with his companions. The engineer had confidence,
because he felt capable of extorting from this wild country everything
necessary for the life of himself and his companions; the latter feared
nothing, just because Cyrus Harding was with them. Pencroft especially,
since the incident of the relighted fire, would not have despaired for an
instant, even if he was on a bare rock, if the engineer was with him on the
rock.
“Pshaw,” said he, “we left Richmond without permission from the
authorities! It will be hard if we don’t manage to get away some day or
other from a place where certainly no one will detain us!”
Cyrus Harding followed the same road as the evening before. They went
round the cone by the plateau which formed the shoulder, to the mouth of

the enormous chasm. The weather was magnificent. The sun rose in a pure
sky and flooded with his rays all the eastern side of the mountain.
The crater was reached. It was just what the engineer had made it out to
be in the dark; that is to say, a vast funnel which extended, widening, to a
height of a thousand feet above the plateau. Below the chasm, large thick
streaks of lava wound over the sides of the mountain, and thus marked the
course of the eruptive matter to the lower valleys which furrowed the
northern part of the island.
The interior of the crater, whose inclination did not exceed thirty five to
forty degrees, presented no difficulties nor obstacles to the ascent. Traces of
very ancient lava were noticed, which probably had overflowed the summit
of the cone, before this lateral chasm had opened a new way to it.
As to the volcanic chimney which established a communication between
the subterranean layers and the crater, its depth could not be calculated with
the eye, for it was lost in obscurity. But there was no doubt as to the
complete extinction of the volcano.
Before eight o’clock Harding and his companions were assembled at the
summit of the crater, on a conical mound which swelled the northern edge.
“The sea, the sea everywhere!” they cried, as if their lips could not
restrain the words which made islanders of them.
The sea, indeed, formed an immense circular sheet of water all around
them! Perhaps, on climbing again to the summit of the cone, Cyrus Harding
had had a hope of discovering some coast, some island shore, which he had
not been able to perceive in the dark the evening before. But nothing
appeared on the farthest verge of the horizon, that is to say over a radius of
more than fifty miles. No land in sight. Not a sail. Over all this immense
space the ocean alone was visible—the island occupied the center of a
circumference which appeared to be infinite.
The engineer and his companions, mute and motionless, surveyed for
some minutes every point of the ocean, examining it to its most extreme
limits. Even Pencroft, who possessed a marvelous power of sight, saw
nothing; and certainly if there had been land at the horizon, if it appeared
only as an indistinct vapor, the sailor would undoubtedly have found it out,
for nature had placed regular telescopes under his eyebrows.

From the ocean their gaze returned to the island which they commanded
entirely, and the first question was put by Gideon Spilett in these terms:
“About what size is this island?”
Truly, it did not appear large in the midst of the immense ocean.
Cyrus Harding reflected a few minutes; he attentively observed the
perimeter of the island, taking into consideration the height at which he was
placed; then,—
“My friends,” said he, “I do not think I am mistaken in giving to the
shore of the island a circumference of more than a hundred miles.”
“And consequently an area?”
“That is difficult to estimate,” replied the engineer, “for it is so uneven.”
If Cyrus Harding was not mistaken in his calculation, the island had
almost the extent of Malta or Zante, in the Mediterranean, but it was at the
same time much more irregular and less rich in capes, promontories, points,
bays, or creeks. Its strange form caught the eye, and when Gideon Spilett,
on the engineer’s advice, had drawn the outline, they found that it
resembled some fantastic animal, a monstrous leviathan, which lay sleeping
on the surface of the Pacific.
This was in fact the exact shape of the island, which it is of consequence
to know, and a tolerably correct map of it was immediately drawn by the
reporter.
The east part of the shore, where the castaways had landed, formed a
wide bay, terminated by a sharp cape, which had been concealed by a high
point from Pencroft on his first exploration. At the northeast two other
capes closed the bay, and between them ran a narrow gulf, which looked
like the half-open jaws of a formidable dog-fish.
From the northeast to the southwest the coast was rounded, like the
flattened cranium of an animal, rising again, forming a sort of protuberance
which did not give any particular shape to this part of the island, of which
the center was occupied by the volcano.
From this point the shore ran pretty regularly north and south, broken at
two-thirds of its perimeter by a narrow creek, from which it ended in a long
tail, similar to the caudal appendage of a gigantic alligator.

This tail formed a regular peninsula, which stretched more than thirty
miles into the sea, reckoning from the cape southeast of the island, already
mentioned; it curled round, making an open roadstead, which marked out
the lower shore of this strangely-formed land.
At the narrowest part, that is to say between the Chimneys and the creek
on the western shore, which corresponded to it in latitude, the island only
measured ten miles; but its greatest length, from the jaws at the northeast to
the extremity of the tail of the southwest, was not less than thirty miles.
As to the interior of the island, its general aspect was this, very woody
throughout the southern part from the mountain to the shore, and arid and
sandy in the northern part. Between the volcano and the east coast Cyrus
Harding and his companions were surprised to see a lake, bordered with
green trees, the existence of which they had not suspected. Seen from this
height, the lake appeared to be on the same level as the ocean, but, on
reflection, the engineer explained to his companions that the altitude of this
little sheet of water must be about three hundred feet, because the plateau,
which was its basin, was but a prolongation of the coast.
“Is it a freshwater lake?” asked Pencroft.
“Certainly,” replied the engineer, “for it must be fed by the water which
flows from the mountain.”
“I see a little river which runs into it,” said Herbert, pointing out a narrow
stream, which evidently took its source somewhere in the west.
“Yes,” said Harding; “and since this stream feeds the lake, most probably
on the side near the sea there is an outlet by which the surplus water
escapes. We shall see that on our return.”
This little winding watercourse and the river already mentioned
constituted the water-system, at least such as it was displayed to the eyes of
the explorers. However, it was possible that under the masses of trees which
covered two-thirds of the island, forming an immense forest, other rivers
ran towards the sea. It might even be inferred that such was the case, so rich
did this region appear in the most magnificent specimens of the flora of the
temperate zones. There was no indication of running water in the north,
though perhaps there might be stagnant water among the marshes in the
northeast; but that was all, in addition to the downs, sand, and aridity which
contrasted so strongly with the luxuriant vegetation of the rest of the island.

The volcano did not occupy the central part; it rose, on the contrary, in
the northwestern region, and seemed to mark the boundary of the two
zones. At the southwest, at the south, and the southeast, the first part of the
spurs were hidden under masses of verdure. At the north, on the contrary,
one could follow their ramifications, which died away on the sandy plains.
It was on this side that, at the time when the mountain was in a state of
eruption, the discharge had worn away a passage, and a large heap of lava
had spread to the narrow jaw which formed the northeastern gulf.
Cyrus Harding and his companions remained an hour at the top of the
mountain. The island was displayed under their eyes, like a plan in relief
with different tints, green for the forests, yellow for the sand, blue for the
water. They viewed it in its tout-ensemble, nothing remained concealed but
the ground hidden by verdure, the hollows of the valleys, and the interior of
the volcanic chasms.
One important question remained to be solved, and the answer would
have a great effect upon the future of the castaways.
Was the island inhabited?
It was the reporter who put this question, to which after the close
examination they had just made, the answer seemed to be in the negative.
Nowhere could the work of a human hand be perceived. Not a group of
huts, not a solitary cabin, not a fishery on the shore. No smoke curling in
the air betrayed the presence of man. It is true, a distance of nearly thirty
miles separated the observers from the extreme points, that is, of the tail
which extended to the southwest, and it would have been difficult, even to
Pencroft’s eyes, to discover a habitation there. Neither could the curtain of
verdure, which covered three-quarters of the island, be raised to see if it did
not shelter some straggling village. But in general the islanders live on the
shores of the narrow spaces which emerge above the waters of the Pacific,
and this shore appeared to be an absolute desert.
Until a more complete exploration, it might be admitted that the island
was uninhabited. But was it frequented, at least occasionally, by the natives
of neighboring islands? It was difficult to reply to this question. No land
appeared within a radius of fifty miles. But fifty miles could be easily
crossed, either by Malay proas or by the large Polynesian canoes.
Everything depended on the position of the island, of its isolation in the
Pacific, or of its proximity to archipelagoes. Would Cyrus Harding be able

to find out their latitude and longitude without instruments? It would be
difficult. Since he was in doubt, it was best to take precautions against a
possible descent of neighboring natives.
The exploration of the island was finished, its shape determined, its
features made out, its extent calculated, the water and mountain systems
ascertained. The disposition of the forests and plains had been marked in a
general way on the reporter’s plan. They had now only to descend the
mountain slopes again, and explore the soil, in the triple point of view, of its
mineral, vegetable, and animal resources.
But before giving his companions the signal for departure, Cyrus Harding
said to them in a calm, grave voice,—
“Here, my friends, is the small corner of land upon which the hand of the
Almighty has thrown us. We are going to live here; a long time, perhaps.
Perhaps, too, unexpected help will arrive, if some ship passes by chance. I
say by chance, because this is an unimportant island; there is not even a port
in which ships could anchor, and it is to be feared that it is situated out of
the route usually followed, that is to say, too much to the south for the ships
which frequent the archipelagoes of the Pacific, and too much to the north
for those which go to Australia by doubling Cape Horn. I wish to hide
nothing of our position from you—”
“And you are right, my dear Cyrus,” replied the reporter, with animation.
“You have to deal with men. They have confidence in you, and you can
depend upon them. Is it not so, my friends?”
“I will obey you in everything, captain,” said Herbert, seizing the
engineer’s hand.
“My master always, and everywhere!” cried Neb.
“As for me,” said the sailor, “if I ever grumble at work, my name’s not
Jack Pencroft, and if you like, captain, we will make a little America of this
island! We will build towns, we will establish railways, start telegraphs, and
one fine day, when it is quite changed, quite put in order and quite civilized,
we will go and offer it to the government of the Union. Only, I ask one
thing.”
“What is that?” said the reporter.
“It is, that we do not consider ourselves castaways, but colonists, who
have come here to settle.” Harding could not help smiling, and the sailor’s

idea was adopted. He then thanked his companions, and added, that he
would rely on their energy and on the aid of Heaven.
“Well, now let us set off to the Chimneys!” cried Pencroft.
“One minute, my friends,” said the engineer. “It seems to me it would be
a good thing to give a name to this island, as well as to, the capes,
promontories, and watercourses, which we can see.
“Very good,” said the reporter. “In the future, that will simplify the
instructions which we shall have to give and follow.”
“Indeed,” said the sailor, “already it is something to be able to say where
one is going, and where one has come from. At least, it looks like
somewhere.”
“The Chimneys, for example,” said Herbert.
“Exactly!” replied Pencroft. “That name was the most convenient, and it
came to me quite of myself. Shall we keep the name of the Chimneys for
our first encampment, captain?”
“Yes, Pencroft, since you have so christened it.”
“Good! as for the others, that will be easy,” returned the sailor, who was
in high spirits. “Let us give them names, as the Robinsons did, whose story
Herbert has often read to me; Providence Bay, Whale Point, Cape
Disappointment!”
“Or, rather, the names of Captain Harding,” said Herbert, “of Mr. Spilett,
of Neb!—”
“My name!” cried Neb, showing his sparkling white teeth.
“Why not?” replied Pencroft. “Port Neb, that would do very well! And
Cape Gideon—”
“I should prefer borrowing names from our country,” said the reporter,
“which would remind us of America.”
“Yes, for the principal ones,” then said Cyrus Harding; “for those of the
bays and seas, I admit it willingly. We might give to that vast bay on the
east the name of Union Bay, for example; to that large hollow on the south,
Washington Bay; to the mountain upon which we are standing, that of
Mount Franklin; to that lake which is extended under our eyes, that of Lake
Grant; nothing could be better, my friends. These names will recall our
country, and those of the great citizens who have honored it; but for the

rivers, gulfs, capes, and promontories, which we perceive from the top of
this mountain, rather let us choose names which will recall their particular
shape. They will impress themselves better on our memory, and at the same
time will be more practical. The shape of the island is so strange that we
shall not be troubled to imagine what it resembles. As to the streams which
we do not know as yet, in different parts of the forest which we shall
explore later, the creeks which afterwards will be discovered, we can
christen them as we find them. What do you think, my friends?”
The engineer’s proposal was unanimously agreed to by his companions.
The island was spread out under their eyes like a map, and they had only to
give names to all its angles and points. Gideon Spilett would write them
down, and the geographical nomenclature of the island would be definitely
adopted. First, they named the two bays and the mountain, Union Bay,
Washington Bay, and Mount Franklin, as the engineer had suggested.
“Now,” said the reporter, “to this peninsula at the southwest of the island,
I propose to give the name of Serpentine Peninsula, and that of Reptile-end
to the bent tail which terminates it, for it is just like a reptile’s tail.”
“Adopted,” said the engineer.
“Now,” said Herbert, pointing to the other extremity of the island, “let us
call this gulf which is so singularly like a pair of open jaws, Shark Gulf.”
“Capital!” cried Pencroft, “and we can complete the resemblance by
naming the two parts of the jaws Mandible Cape.”
“But there are two capes,” observed the reporter.
“Well,” replied Pencroft, “we can have North Mandible Cape and South
Mandible Cape.”
“They are inscribed,” said Spilett.
“There is only the point at the southeastern extremity of the island to be
named,” said Pencroft.
“That is, the extremity of Union Bay?” asked Herbert.
“Claw Cape,” cried Neb directly, who also wished to be godfather to
some part of his domain.
In truth, Neb had found an excellent name, for this cape was very like the
powerful claw of the fantastic animal which this singularly-shaped island
represented.

Pencroft was delighted at the turn things had taken, and their
imaginations soon gave to the river which furnished the settlers with
drinking water and near which the balloon had thrown them, the name of
the Mercy, in true gratitude to Providence. To the islet upon which the
castaways had first landed, the name of Safety Island; to the plateau which
crowned the high granite precipice above the Chimneys, and from whence
the gaze could embrace the whole of the vast bay, the name of Prospect
Heights.
Lastly, all the masses of impenetrable wood which covered the
Serpentine Peninsula were named the forests of the Far West.
The nomenclature of the visible and known parts of the island was thus
finished, and later, they would complete it as they made fresh discoveries.
As to the points of the compass, the engineer had roughly fixed them by
the height and position of the sun, which placed Union Bay and Prospect
Heights to the east. But the next day, by taking the exact hour of the rising
and setting of the sun, and by marking its position between this rising and
setting, he reckoned to fix the north of the island exactly, for, in
consequence of its situation in the Southern Hemisphere, the sun, at the
precise moment of its culmination, passed in the north and not in the south,
as, in its apparent movement, it seems to do, to those places situated in the
Northern Hemisphere.
Everything was finished, and the settlers had only to descend Mount
Franklin to return to the Chimneys, when Pencroft cried out,—
“Well! we are preciously stupid!”
“Why?” asked Gideon Spilett, who had closed his notebook and risen to
depart.
“Why! our island! we have forgotten to christen it!”
Herbert was going to propose to give it the engineer’s name and all his
companions would have applauded him, when Cyrus Harding said simply,
—
“Let us give it the name of a great citizen, my friend; of him who now
struggles to defend the unity of the American Republic! Let us call it
Lincoln Island!”
The engineer’s proposal was replied to by three hurrahs.

And that evening, before sleeping, the new colonists talked of their
absent country; they spoke of the terrible war which stained it with blood;
they could not doubt that the South would soon be subdued, and that the
cause of the North, the cause of justice, would triumph, thanks to Grant,
thanks to Lincoln!
Now this happened the 30th of March, 1865. They little knew that sixteen
days afterwards a frightful crime would be committed in Washington, and
that on Good Friday Abraham Lincoln would fall by the hand of a fanatic.

Chapter 12
They now began the descent of the mountain. Climbing down the crater,
they went round the cone and reached their encampment of the previous
night. Pencroft thought it must be breakfast-time, and the watches of the
reporter and engineer were therefore consulted to find out the hour.
That of Gideon Spilett had been preserved from the sea-water, as he had
been thrown at once on the sand out of reach of the waves. It was an
instrument of excellent quality, a perfect pocket chronometer, which the
reporter had not forgotten to wind up carefully every day.
As to the engineer’s watch, it, of course, had stopped during the time
which he had passed on the downs.
The engineer now wound it up, and ascertaining by the height of the sun
that it must be about nine o’clock in the morning, he put his watch at that
hour.
“No, my dear Spilett, wait. You have kept the Richmond time, have you
not?”
“Yes, Cyrus.”
“Consequently, your watch is set by the meridian of that town, which is
almost that of Washington?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Very well, keep it thus. Content yourself with winding it up very,
exactly, but do not touch the hands. This may be of use to us.
“What will be the good of that?” thought the sailor.
They ate, and so heartily, that the store of game and almonds was totally
exhausted. But Pencroft was not at all uneasy, they would supply
themselves on the way. Top, whose share had been very much to his taste,
would know how to find some fresh game among the brushwood.
Moreover, the sailor thought of simply asking the engineer to manufacture
some powder and one or two fowling-pieces; he supposed there would be
no difficulty in that.

On leaving the plateau, the captain proposed to his companions to return
to the Chimneys by a new way. He wished to reconnoiter Lake Grant, so
magnificently framed in trees. They therefore followed the crest of one of
the spurs, between which the creek that supplied the lake probably had its
source. In talking, the settlers already employed the names which they had
just chosen, which singularly facilitated the exchange of their ideas. Herbert
and Pencroft—the one young and the other very boyish—were enchanted,
and while walking, the sailor said,
“Hey, Herbert! how capital it sounds! It will be impossible to lose
ourselves, my boy, since, whether we follow the way to Lake Grant, or
whether we join the Mercy through the woods of the Far West, we shall be
certain to arrive at Prospect Heights, and, consequently, at Union Bay!”
It had been agreed, that without forming a compact band, the settlers
should not stray away from each other. It was very certain that the thick
forests of the island were inhabited by dangerous animals, and it was
prudent to be on their guard. In general, Pencroft, Herbert, and Neb walked
first, preceded by Top, who poked his nose into every bush. The reporter
and the engineer went together, Gideon Spilett ready to note every incident,
the engineer silent for the most part, and only stepping aside to pick up one
thing or another, a mineral or vegetable substance, which he put into his
pocket, without making any remark.
“What can he be picking up?” muttered Pencroft. “I have looked in vain
for anything that’s worth the trouble of stooping for.”
Towards ten o’clock the little band descended the last declivities of
Mount Franklin. As yet the ground was scantily strewn with bushes and
trees. They were walking over yellowish calcinated earth, forming a plain
of nearly a mile long, which extended to the edge of the wood. Great blocks
of that basalt, which, according to Bischof, takes three hundred and fifty
millions of years to cool, strewed the plain, very confused in some places.
However, there were here no traces of lava, which was spread more
particularly over the northern slopes.
Cyrus Harding expected to reach, without incident, the course of the
creek, which he supposed flowed under the trees at the border of the plain,
when he saw Herbert running hastily back, while Neb and the sailor were
hiding behind the rocks.
“What’s the matter, my boy?” asked Spilett.

“Smoke,” replied Herbert. “We have seen smoke among the rocks, a
hundred paces from us.”
“Men in this place?” cried the reporter.
“We must avoid showing ourselves before knowing with whom we have
to deal,” replied Cyrus Harding. “I trust that there are no natives on this
island; I dread them more than anything else. Where is Top?”
“Top is on before.”
“And he doesn’t bark?”
“No.”
“That is strange. However, we must try to call him back.”
In a few moments, the engineer, Gideon Spilett, and Herbert had rejoined
their two companions, and like them, they kept out of sight behind the
heaps of basalt.
From thence they clearly saw smoke of a yellowish color rising in the air.
Top was recalled by a slight whistle from his master, and the latter,
signing to his companions to wait for him, glided away among the rocks.
The colonists, motionless, anxiously awaited the result of this exploration,
when a shout from the engineer made them hasten forward. They soon
joined him, and were at once struck with a disagreeable odor which
impregnated the atmosphere.
The odor, easily recognized, was enough for the engineer to guess what
the smoke was which at first, not without cause, had startled him.
“This fire,” said he, “or rather, this smoke is produced by nature alone.
There is a sulphur spring there, which will cure all our sore throats.”
“Captain!” cried Pencroft. “What a pity that I haven’t got a cold!”
The settlers then directed their steps towards the place from which the
smoke escaped. They there saw a sulphur spring which flowed abundantly
between the rocks, and its waters discharged a strong sulphuric acid odor,
after having absorbed the oxygen of the air.
Cyrus Harding, dipping in his hand, felt the water oily to the touch. He
tasted it and found it rather sweet. As to its temperature, that he estimated at
ninety-five degrees Fahrenheit. Herbert having asked on what he based this
calculation,—

“Its quite simple, my boy,” said he, “for, in plunging my hand into the
water, I felt no sensation either of heat or cold. Therefore it has the same
temperature as the human body, which is about ninety-five degrees.”
The sulphur spring not being of any actual use to the settlers, they
proceeded towards the thick border of the forest, which began some
hundred paces off.
There, as they had conjectured, the waters of the stream flowed clear and
limpid between high banks of red earth, the color of which betrayed the
presence of oxide of iron. From this color, the name of Red Creek was
immediately given to the watercourse.
It was only a large stream, deep and clear, formed of the mountain water,
which, half river, half torrent, here rippling peacefully over the sand, there
falling against the rocks or dashing down in a cascade, ran towards the lake,
over a distance of a mile and a half, its breadth varying from thirty to forty
feet. Its waters were sweet, and it was supposed that those of the lake were
so also. A fortunate circumstance, in the event of their finding on its borders
a more suitable dwelling than the Chimneys.
As to the trees, which some hundred feet downwards shaded the banks of
the creek, they belonged, for the most part, to the species which abound in
the temperate zone of America and Tasmania, and no longer to those
coniferae observed in that portion of the island already explored to some
miles from Prospect Heights. At this time of the year, the commencement of
the month of April, which represents the month of October, in this
hemisphere, that is, the beginning of autumn, they were still in full leaf.
They consisted principally of casuarinas and eucalypti, some of which next
year would yield a sweet manna, similar to the manna of the East. Clumps
of Australian cedars rose on the sloping banks, which were also covered
with the high grass called “tussac” in New Holland; but the cocoanut, so
abundant in the archipelagoes of the Pacific, seemed to be wanting in the
island, the latitude, doubtless, being too low.
“What a pity!” said Herbert, “such a useful tree, and which has such
beautiful nuts!”
As to the birds, they swarmed among the scanty branches of the eucalypti
and casuarinas, which did not hinder the display of their wings. Black,
white, or gray cockatoos, paroquets, with plumage of all colors, kingfishers
of a sparkling green and crowned with red, blue lories, and various other

birds appeared on all sides, as through a prism, fluttering about and
producing a deafening clamor. Suddenly, a strange concert of discordant
voices resounded in the midst of a thicket. The settlers heard successively
the song of birds, the cry of quadrupeds, and a sort of clacking which they
might have believed to have escaped from the lips of a native. Neb and
Herbert rushed towards the bush, forgetting even the most elementary
principles of prudence. Happily, they found there, neither a formidable wild
beast nor a dangerous native, but merely half a dozen mocking and singing
birds, known as mountain pheasants. A few skillful blows from a stick soon
put an end to their concert, and procured excellent food for the evening’s
dinner.
Herbert also discovered some magnificent pigeons with bronzed wings,
some superbly crested, others draped in green, like their congeners at Port-
Macquarie; but it was impossible to reach them, or the crows and magpies
which flew away in flocks.
A charge of small shot would have made great slaughter among these
birds, but the hunters were still limited to sticks and stones, and these
primitive weapons proved very insufficient.
Their insufficiency was still more clearly shown when a troop of
quadrupeds, jumping, bounding, making leaps of thirty feet, regular flying
mammiferae, fled over the thickets, so quickly and at such a height, that one
would have thought that they passed from one tree to another like squirrels.
“Kangaroos!” cried Herbert.
“Are they good to eat?” asked Pencroft.
“Stewed,” replied the reporter, “their flesh is equal to the best venison!
—”
Gideon Spilett had not finished this exciting sentence when the sailor,
followed by Neb and Herbert, darted on the kangaroos tracks. Cyrus
Harding called them back in vain. But it was in vain too for the hunters to
pursue such agile game, which went bounding away like balls. After a chase
of five minutes, they lost their breath, and at the same time all sight of the
creatures, which disappeared in the wood. Top was not more successful
than his masters.
“Captain,” said Pencroft, when the engineer and the reporter had rejoined
them, “Captain, you see quite well we can’t get on unless we make a few

guns. Will that be possible?”
“Perhaps,” replied the engineer, “but we will begin by first
manufacturing some bows and arrows, and I don’t doubt that you will
become as clever in the use of them as the Australian hunters.”
“Bows and arrows!” said Pencroft scornfully. “That’s all very well for
children!”
“Don’t be proud, friend Pencroft,” replied the reporter. “Bows and arrows
were sufficient for centuries to stain the earth with blood. Powder is but a
thing of yesterday, and war is as old as the human race—unhappily.”
“Faith, that’s true, Mr. Spilett,” replied the sailor, “and I always speak too
quickly. You must excuse me!”
Meanwhile, Herbert constant to his favorite science, Natural History,
reverted to the kangaroos, saying,—
“Besides, we had to deal just now with the species which is most difficult
to catch. They were giants with long gray fur; but if I am not mistaken,
there exist black and red kangaroos, rock kangaroos, and rat kangaroos,
which are more easy to get hold of. It is reckoned that there are about a
dozen species.”
“Herbert,” replied the sailor sententiously, “there is only one species of
kangaroos to me, that is ‘kangaroo on the spit,’ and it’s just the one we
haven’t got this evening!”
They could not help laughing at Master Pencroft’s new classification.
The honest sailor did not hide his regret at being reduced for dinner to the
singing pheasants, but fortune once more showed itself obliging to him.
In fact, Top, who felt that his interest was concerned went and ferreted
everywhere with an instinct doubled by a ferocious appetite. It was even
probable that if some piece of game did fall into his clutches, none would
be left for the hunters, if Top was hunting on his own account; but Neb
watched him and he did well.
Towards three o’clock the dog disappeared in the brushwood and
gruntings showed that he was engaged in a struggle with some animal. Neb
rushed after him, and soon saw Top eagerly devouring a quadruped, which
ten seconds later would have been past recognizing in Top’s stomach. But
fortunately the dog had fallen upon a brood, and besides the victim he was

devouring, two other rodents—the animals in question belonged to that
order—lay strangled on the turf.
Neb reappeared triumphantly holding one of the rodents in each hand.
Their size exceeded that of a rabbit, their hair was yellow, mingled with
green spots, and they had the merest rudiments of tails.
The citizens of the Union were at no loss for the right name of these
rodents. They were maras, a sort of agouti, a little larger than their
congeners of tropical countries, regular American rabbits, with long ears,
jaws armed on each side with five molars, which distinguish the agouti.
“Hurrah!” cried Pencroft, “the roast has arrived! and now we can go
home.”
The walk, interrupted for an instant, was resumed. The limpid waters of
the Red Creek flowed under an arch of casuarinas, banksias, and gigantic
gum-trees. Superb lilacs rose to a height of twenty feet. Other arborescent
species, unknown to the young naturalist, bent over the stream, which could
be heard murmuring beneath the bowers of verdure.
Meanwhile the stream grew much wider, and Cyrus Harding supposed
that they would soon reach its mouth. In fact, on emerging from beneath a
thick clump of beautiful trees, it suddenly appeared before their eyes.
The explorers had arrived on the western shore of Lake Grant. The place
was well worth looking at. This extent of water, of a circumference of
nearly seven miles and an area of two hundred and fifty acres, reposed in a
border of diversified trees. Towards the east, through a curtain of verdure,
picturesquely raised in some places, sparkled an horizon of sea. The lake
was curved at the north, which contrasted with the sharp outline of its lower
part. Numerous aquatic birds frequented the shores of this little Ontario, in
which the thousand isles of its American namesake were represented by a
rock which emerged from its surface, some hundred feet from the southern
shore. There lived in harmony several couples of kingfishers perched on a
stone, grave, motionless, watching for fish, then darting down, they plunged
in with a sharp cry, and reappeared with their prey in their beaks. On the
shores and on the islets, strutted wild ducks, pelicans, water-hens, red-
beaks, philedons, furnished with a tongue like a brush, and one or two
specimens of the splendid menura, the tail of which expands gracefully like
a lyre.

As to the water of the lake, it was sweet, limpid, rather dark, and from
certain bubblings, and the concentric circles which crossed each other on
the surface, it could not be doubted that it abounded in fish.
“This lake is really beautiful!” said Gideon Spilett. “We could live on its
borders!”
“We will live there!” replied Harding.
The settlers, wishing to return to the Chimneys by the shortest way,
descended towards the angle formed on the south by the junction of the
lake’s bank. It was not without difficulty that they broke a path through the
thickets and brushwood which had never been put aside by the hand of
men, and they thus went towards the shore, so as to arrive at the north of
Prospect Heights. Two miles were cleared in this direction, and then, after
they had passed the last curtain of trees, appeared the plateau, carpeted with
thick turf, and beyond that the infinite sea.
To return to the Chimneys, it was enough to cross the plateau obliquely
for the space of a mile, and then to descend to the elbow formed by the first
detour of the Mercy. But the engineer desired to know how and where the
overplus of the water from the lake escaped, and the exploration was
prolonged under the trees for a mile and a half towards the north. It was
most probable that an overfall existed somewhere, and doubtless through a
cleft in the granite. This lake was only, in short, an immense center basin,
which was filled by degrees by the creek, and its waters must necessarily
pass to the sea by some fall. If it was so, the engineer thought that it might
perhaps be possible to utilize this fall and borrow its power, actually lost
without profit to any one. They continued then to follow the shores of Lake
Grant by climbing the plateau; but, after having gone a mile in this
direction, Cyrus Harding had not been able to discover the overfall, which,
however, must exist somewhere.
It was then half-past four. In order to prepare for dinner it was necessary
that the settlers should return to their dwelling. The little band retraced their
steps, therefore, and by the left bank of the Mercy, Cyrus Harding and his
companions arrived at the Chimneys.
The fire was lighted, and Neb and Pencroft, on whom the functions of
cooks naturally devolved, to the one in his quality of Negro, to the other in
that of sailor, quickly prepared some broiled agouti, to which they did great
justice.

The repast at length terminated; at the moment when each one was about
to give himself up to sleep, Cyrus Harding drew from his pocket little
specimens of different sorts of minerals, and just said,—
“My friends, this is iron mineral, this a pyrite, this is clay, this is lime,
and this is coal. Nature gives us these things. It is our business to make a
right use of them. To-morrow we will commence operations.”

Chapter 13
“Well, captain, where are we going to begin?” asked Pencroft next
morning of the engineer.
“At the beginning,” replied Cyrus Harding.
And in fact, the settlers were compelled to begin “at the very beginning.”
They did not possess even the tools necessary for making tools, and they
were not even in the condition of nature, who, “having time, husbands her
strength.” They had no time, since they had to provide for the immediate
wants of their existence, and though, profiting by acquired experience, they
had nothing to invent, still they had everything to make; their iron and their
steel were as yet only in the state of minerals, their earthenware in the state
of clay, their linen and their clothes in the state of textile material.
It must be said, however, that the settlers were “men” in the complete and
higher sense of the word. The engineer Harding could not have been
seconded by more intelligent companions, nor with more devotion and zeal.
He had tried them. He knew their abilities.
Gideon Spilett, a talented reporter, having learned everything so as to be
able to speak of everything, would contribute largely with his head and
hands to the colonization of the island. He would not draw back from any
task: a determined sportsman, he would make a business of what till then
had only been a pleasure to him.
Herbert, a gallant boy, already remarkably well informed in the natural
sciences, would render greater service to the common cause.
Neb was devotion personified. Clever, intelligent, indefatigable, robust,
with iron health, he knew a little about the work of the forge, and could not
fail to be very useful in the colony.
As to Pencroft, he had sailed over every sea, a carpenter in the dockyards
in Brooklyn, assistant tailor in the vessels of the state, gardener, cultivator,
during his holidays, etc., and like all seamen, fit for anything, he knew how
to do everything.
It would have been difficult to unite five men, better fitted to struggle
against fate, more certain to triumph over it.

“At the beginning,” Cyrus Harding had said. Now this beginning of
which the engineer spoke was the construction of an apparatus which would
serve to transform the natural substances. The part which heat plays in these
transformations is known. Now fuel, wood or coal, was ready for
immediate use, an oven must be built to use it.
“What is this oven for?” asked Pencroft.
“To make the pottery which we have need of,” replied Harding.
“And of what shall we make the oven?”
“With bricks.”
“And the bricks?”
“With clay. Let us start, my friends. To save trouble, we will establish our
manufactory at the place of production. Neb will bring provisions, and there
will be no lack of fire to cook the food.”
“No,” replied the reporter; “but if there is a lack of food for want of
instruments for the chase?”
“Ah, if we only had a knife!” cried the sailor.
“Well?” asked Cyrus Harding.
“Well! I would soon make a bow and arrows, and then there could be
plenty of game in the larder!”
“Yes, a knife, a sharp blade.” said the engineer, as if he was speaking to
himself.
At this moment his eyes fell upon Top, who was running about on the
shore. Suddenly Harding’s face became animated.
“Top, here,” said he.
The dog came at his master’s call. The latter took Top’s head between his
hands, and unfastening the collar which the animal wore round his neck, he
broke it in two, saying,—
“There are two knives, Pencroft!”
Two hurrahs from the sailor was the reply. Top’s collar was made of a
thin piece of tempered steel. They had only to sharpen it on a piece of
sandstone, then to raise the edge on a finer stone. Now sandstone was
abundant on the beach, and two hours after the stock of tools in the colony
consisted of two sharp blades, which were easily fixed in solid handles.

The production of these their first tools was hailed as a triumph. It was
indeed a valuable result of their labor, and a very opportune one. They set
out.
Cyrus Harding proposed that they should return to the western shore of
the lake, where the day before he had noticed the clayey ground of which he
possessed a specimen. They therefore followed the bank of the Mercy,
traversed Prospect Heights, and after a walk of five miles or more they
reached a glade, situated two hundred feet from Lake Grant.
On the way Herbert had discovered a tree, the branches of which the
Indians of South America employ for making their bows. It was the
crejimba, of the palm family, which does not bear edible fruit. Long straight
branches were cut, the leaves stripped off; it was shaped, stronger in the
middle, more slender at the extremities, and nothing remained to be done
but to find a plant fit to make the bow-string. This was the “hibiscus
heterophyllus,” which furnishes fibers of such remarkable tenacity that they
have been compared to the tendons of animals. Pencroft thus obtained bows
of tolerable strength, for which he only wanted arrows. These were easily
made with straight stiff branches, without knots, but the points with which
they must be armed, that is to say, a substance to serve in lieu of iron, could
not be met with so easily. But Pencroft said, that having done his part of the
work, chance would do the rest.
The settlers arrived on the ground which had been discovered the day
before. Being composed of the sort of clay which is used for making bricks
and tiles, it was very useful for the work in question. There was no great
difficulty in it. It was enough to scour the clay with sand, then to mold the
bricks and bake them by the heat of a wood fire.
Generally bricks are formed in molds, but the engineer contented himself
with making them by hand. All that day and the day following were
employed in this work. The clay, soaked in water, was mixed by the feet
and hands of the manipulators, and then divided into pieces of equal size. A
practiced workman can make, without a machine, about ten thousand bricks
in twelve hours; but in their two days work the five brickmakers on Lincoln
Island had not made more than three thousand, which were ranged near
each other, until the time when their complete desiccation would permit
them to be used in building the oven, that is to say, in three or four days.

It was on the 2nd of April that Harding had employed himself in fixing
the orientation of the island, or, in other words, the precise spot where the
sun rose. The day before he had noted exactly the hour when the sun
disappeared beneath the horizon, making allowance for the refraction. This
morning he noted, no less exactly, the hour at which it reappeared. Between
this setting and rising twelve hours, twenty-four minutes passed. Then, six
hours, twelve minutes after its rising, the sun on this day would exactly pass
the meridian and the point of the sky which it occupied at this moment
would be the north. At the said hour, Cyrus marked this point, and putting
in a line with the sun two trees which would serve him for marks, he thus
obtained an invariable meridian for his ulterior operations.
The settlers employed the two days before the oven was built in
collecting fuel. Branches were cut all round the glade, and they picked up
all the fallen wood under the trees. They were also able to hunt with greater
success, since Pencroft now possessed some dozen arrows armed with sharp
points. It was Top who had furnished these points, by bringing in a
porcupine, rather inferior eating, but of great value, thanks to the quills with
which it bristled. These quills were fixed firmly at the ends of the arrows,
the flight of which was made more certain by some cockatoos’ feathers. The
reporter and Herbert soon became very skilful archers. Game of all sorts in
consequence abounded at the Chimneys, capybaras, pigeons, agouties,
grouse, etc. The greater part of these animals were killed in the part of the
forest on the left bank of the Mercy, to which they gave the name of
Jacamar Wood, in remembrance of the bird which Pencroft and Herbert had
pursued when on their first exploration.
This game was eaten fresh, but they preserved some capybara hams, by
smoking them above a fire of green wood, after having perfumed them with
sweet-smelling leaves. However, this food, although very strengthening,
was always roast upon roast, and the party would have been delighted to
hear some soup bubbling on the hearth, but they must wait till a pot could
be made, and, consequently, till the oven was built.
During these excursions, which were not extended far from the brick-
field, the hunters could discern the recent passage of animals of a large size,
armed with powerful claws, but they could not recognize the species. Cyrus
Harding advised them to be very careful, as the forest probably enclosed
many dangerous beasts.

And he did right. Indeed, Gideon Spilett and Herbert one day saw an
animal which resembled a jaguar. Happily the creature did not attack them,
or they might not have escaped without a severe wound. As soon as he
could get a regular weapon, that is to say, one of the guns which Pencroft
begged for, Gideon Spilett resolved to make desperate war against the
ferocious beasts, and exterminate them from the island.
The Chimneys during these few days was not made more comfortable,
for the engineer hoped to discover, or build if necessary, a more convenient
dwelling. They contented themselves with spreading moss and dry leaves
on the sand of the passages, and on these primitive couches the tired
workers slept soundly.
They also reckoned the days they had passed on Lincoln Island, and from
that time kept a regular account. The 5th of April, which was Wednesday,
was twelve days from the time when the wind threw the castaways on this
shore.
On the 6th of April, at daybreak, the engineer and his companions were
collected in the glade, at the place where they were going to perform the
operation of baking the bricks. Naturally this had to be in the open air, and
not in a kiln, or rather, the agglomeration of bricks made an enormous kiln,
which would bake itself. The fuel, made of well-prepared fagots, was laid
on the ground and surrounded with several rows of dried bricks, which soon
formed an enormous cube, to the exterior of which they contrived air-holes.
The work lasted all day, and it was not till the evening that they set fire to
the fagots. No one slept that night, all watching carefully to keep up the fire.
The operation lasted forty-eight hours, and succeeded perfectly. It then
became necessary to leave the smoking mass to cool, and during this time
Neb and Pencroft, guided by Cyrus Harding, brought, on a hurdle made of
interlaced branches, loads of carbonate of lime and common stones, which
were very abundant, to the north of the lake. These stones, when
decomposed by heat, made a very strong quicklime, greatly increased by
slacking, at least as pure as if it had been produced by the calcination of
chalk or marble. Mixed with sand the lime made excellent mortar.
The result of these different works was, that, on the 9th of April, the
engineer had at his disposal a quantity of prepared lime and some thousands
of bricks.

Without losing an instant, therefore, they began the construction of a kiln
to bake the pottery, which was indispensable for their domestic use. They
succeeded without much difficulty. Five days after, the kiln was supplied
with coal, which the engineer had discovered lying open to the sky towards
the mouth of the Red Creek, and the first smoke escaped from a chimney
twenty feet high. The glade was transformed into a manufactory, and
Pencroft was not far wrong in believing that from this kiln would issue all
the products of modern industry.
In the meantime what the settlers first manufactured was a common
pottery in which to cook their food. The chief material was clay, to which
Harding added a little lime and quartz. This paste made regular “pipe-clay,”
with which they manufactured bowls, cups molded on stones of a proper
size, great jars and pots to hold water, etc. The shape of these objects was
clumsy and defective, but after they had been baked in a high temperature,
the kitchen of the Chimneys was provided with a number of utensils, as
precious to the settlers as the most beautifully enameled china. We must
mention here that Pencroft, desirous to know if the clay thus prepared was
worthy of its name of pipe-clay, made some large pipes, which he thought
charming, but for which, alas! he had no tobacco, and that was a great
privation to Pencroft. “But tobacco will come, like everything else!” he
repeated, in a burst of absolute confidence.
This work lasted till the 15th of April, and the time was well employed.
The settlers, having become potters, made nothing but pottery. When it
suited Cyrus Harding to change them into smiths, they would become
smiths. But the next day being Sunday, and also Easter Sunday, all agreed to
sanctify the day by rest. These Americans were religious men, scrupulous
observers of the precepts of the Bible, and their situation could not but
develop sentiments of confidence towards the Author of all things.
On the evening of the 15th of April they returned to the Chimneys,
carrying with them the pottery, the furnace being extinguished until they
could put it to a new use. Their return was marked by a fortunate incident;
the engineer discovered a substance which replaced tinder. It is known that
a spongy, velvety flesh is procured from a certain mushroom of the genus
polyporous. Properly prepared, it is extremely inflammable, especially
when it has been previously saturated with gunpowder, or boiled in a
solution of nitrate or chlorate of potash. But, till then, they had not found

any of these polypores or even any of the morels which could replace them.
On this day, the engineer, seeing a plant belonging to the wormwood genus,
the principal species of which are absinthe, balm-mint, tarragon, etc.,
gathered several tufts, and, presenting them to the sailor, said,—
“Here, Pencroft, this will please you.”
Pencroft looked attentively at the plant, covered with long silky hair, the
leaves being clothed with soft down.
“What’s that, captain?” asked Pencroft. “Is it tobacco?”
“No,” replied Harding, “it is wormwood; Chinese wormwood to the
learned, but to us it will be tinder.”
When the wormwood was properly dried it provided them with a very
inflammable substance, especially afterwards when the engineer had
impregnated it with nitrate of potash, of which the island possessed several
beds, and which is in truth saltpeter.
The colonists had a good supper that evening. Neb prepared some agouti
soup, a smoked capybara ham, to which was added the boiled tubercules of
the “caladium macrorhizum,” an herbaceous plant of the arum family. They
had an excellent taste, and were very nutritious, being something similar to
the substance which is sold in England under the name of “Portland sago”;
they were also a good substitute for bread, which the settlers in Lincoln
Island did not yet possess.
When supper was finished, before sleeping, Harding and his companions
went to take the air on the beach. It was eight o’clock in the evening; the
night was magnificent. The moon, which had been full five days before, had
not yet risen, but the horizon was already silvered by those soft, pale shades
which might be called the dawn of the moon. At the southern zenith
glittered the circumpolar constellations, and above all the Southern Cross,
which some days before the engineer had greeted on the summit of Mount
Franklin.
Cyrus Harding gazed for some time at this splendid constellation, which
has at its summit and at its base two stars of the first magnitude, at its left
arm a star of the second, and at its right arm a star of the third magnitude.
Then, after some minutes thought—
“Herbert,” he asked of the lad, “is not this the 15th of April?”
“Yes, captain,” replied Herbert.

“Well, if I am not mistaken, to-morrow will be one of the four days in the
year in which the real time is identical with average time; that is to say, my
boy, that to-morrow, to within some seconds, the sun will pass the meridian
just at midday by the clocks. If the weather is fine I think that I shall obtain
the longitude of the island with an approximation of some degrees.”
“Without instruments, without sextant?” asked Gideon Spilett.
“Yes,” replied the engineer. “Also, since the night is clear, I will try, this
very evening, to obtain our latitude by calculating the height of the
Southern Cross, that is, from the southern pole above the horizon. You
understand, my friends, that before undertaking the work of installation in
earnest it is not enough to have found out that this land is an island; we
must, as nearly as possible, know at what distance it is situated, either from
the American continent or Australia, or from the principal archipelagoes of
the Pacific.”
“In fact,” said the reporter, “instead of building a house it would be more
important to build a boat, if by chance we are not more than a hundred
miles from an inhabited coast.”
“That is why,” returned Harding, “I am going to try this evening to
calculate the latitude of Lincoln Island, and to-morrow, at midday, I will try
to calculate the longitude.”
If the engineer had possessed a sextant, an apparatus with which the
angular distance of objects can be measured with great precision, there
would have been no difficulty in the operation. This evening by the height
of the pole, the next day by the passing of the sun at the meridian, he would
obtain the position of the island. But as they had not one he would have to
supply the deficiency.
Harding then entered the Chimneys. By the light of the fire he cut two
little flat rulers, which he joined together at one end so as to form a pair of
compasses, whose legs could separate or come together. The fastening was
fixed with a strong acacia thorn which was found in the wood pile. This
instrument finished, the engineer returned to the beach, but as it was
necessary to take the height of the pole from above a clear horizon, that is, a
sea horizon, and as Claw Cape hid the southern horizon, he was obliged to
look for a more suitable station. The best would evidently have been the
shore exposed directly to the south; but the Mercy would have to be
crossed, and that was a difficulty. Harding resolved, in consequence, to

make his observation from Prospect Heights, taking into consideration its
height above the level of the sea—a height which he intended to calculate
next day by a simple process of elementary geometry.
The settlers, therefore, went to the plateau, ascending the left bank of the
Mercy, and placed themselves on the edge which looked northwest and
southeast, that is, above the curiously-shaped rocks which bordered the
river.
This part of the plateau commanded the heights of the left bank, which
sloped away to the extremity of Claw Cape, and to the southern side of the
island. No obstacle intercepted their gaze, which swept the horizon in a
semi-circle from the cape to Reptile End. To the south the horizon, lighted
by the first rays of the moon, was very clearly defined against the sky.
At this moment the Southern Cross presented itself to the observer in an
inverted position, the star Alpha marking its base, which is nearer to the
southern pole.
This constellation is not situated as near to the antarctic pole as the Polar
Star is to the arctic pole. The star Alpha is about twenty-seven degrees from
it, but Cyrus Harding knew this and made allowance for it in his
calculation. He took care also to observe the moment when it passed the
meridian below the pole, which would simplify the operation.
Cyrus Harding pointed one leg of the compasses to the horizon, the other
to Alpha, and the space between the two legs gave him the angular distance
which separated Alpha from the horizon. In order to fix the angle obtained,
he fastened with thorns the two pieces of wood on a third placed
transversely, so that their separation should be properly maintained.
That done, there was only the angle to calculate by bringing back the
observation to the level of the sea, taking into consideration the depression
of the horizon, which would necessitate measuring the height of the cliff.
The value of this angle would give the height of Alpha, and consequently
that of the pole above the horizon, that is to say, the latitude of the island,
since the latitude of a point of the globe is always equal to the height of the
pole above the horizon of this point.
The calculations were left for the next day, and at ten o’clock every one
was sleeping soundly.

Chapter 14
The next day, the 16th of April, and Easter Sunday, the settlers issued
from the Chimneys at daybreak, and proceeded to wash their linen. The
engineer intended to manufacture soap as soon as he could procure the
necessary materials—soda or potash, fat or oil. The important question of
renewing their wardrobe would be treated of in the proper time and place.
At any rate their clothes would last at least six months longer, for they were
strong, and could resist the wear of manual labor. But all would depend on
the situation of the island with regard to inhabited land. This would be
settled to-day if the weather permitted.
The sun rising above a clear horizon, announced a magnificent day, one
of those beautiful autumn days which are like the last farewells of the warm
season.
It was now necessary to complete the observations of the evening before
by measuring the height of the cliff above the level of the sea.
“Shall you not need an instrument similar to the one which you used
yesterday?” said Herbert to the engineer.
“No, my boy,” replied the latter, “we are going to proceed differently, but
in as precise a way.”
Herbert, wishing to learn everything he could, followed the engineer to
the beach. Pencroft, Neb, and the reporter remained behind and occupied
themselves in different ways.
Cyrus Harding had provided himself with a straight stick, twelve feet
long, which he had measured as exactly as possible by comparing it with
his own height, which he knew to a hair. Herbert carried a plumb-line which
Harding had given him, that is to say, a simple stone fastened to the end of a
flexible fiber. Having reached a spot about twenty feet from the edge of the
beach, and nearly five hundred feet from the cliff, which rose
perpendicularly, Harding thrust the pole two feet into the sand, and wedging
it up carefully, he managed, by means of the plumb-line, to erect it
perpendicularly with the plane of the horizon.

That done, he retired the necessary distance, when, lying on the sand, his
eye glanced at the same time at the top of the pole and the crest of the cliff.
He carefully marked the place with a little stick.
Then addressing Herbert—“Do you know the first principles of
geometry?” he asked.
“Slightly, captain,” replied Herbert, who did not wish to put himself
forward.
“You remember what are the properties of two similar triangles?”
“Yes,” replied Herbert; “their homologous sides are proportional.”
“Well, my boy, I have just constructed two similar right-angled triangles;
the first, the smallest, has for its sides the perpendicular pole, the distance
which separates the little stick from the foot of the pole and my visual ray
for hypothenuse; the second has for its sides the perpendicular cliff, the
height of which we wish to measure, the distance which separates the little
stick from the bottom of the cliff, and my visual ray also forms its
hypothenuse, which proves to be prolongation of that of the first triangle.”
“Ah, captain, I understand!” cried Herbert. “As the distance from the
stick to the pole is to the distance from the stick to the base of the cliff, so is
the height of the pole to the height of the cliff.”
“Just so, Herbert,” replied the engineer; “and when we have measured the
two first distances, knowing the height of the pole, we shall only have a
sum in proportion to do, which will give us the height of the cliff, and will
save us the trouble of measuring it directly.”
The two horizontal distances were found out by means of the pole, whose
length above the sand was exactly ten feet.
The first distance was fifteen feet between the stick and the place where
the pole was thrust into the sand.
The second distance between the stick and the bottom of the cliff was
five hundred feet.
These measurements finished, Cyrus Harding and the lad returned to the
Chimneys.
The engineer then took a flat stone which he had brought back from one
of his previous excursions, a sort of slate, on which it was easy to trace
figures with a sharp shell. He then proved the following proportions:—

15:500::10:x

500 x 10 = 5000

5000 / 15 = 333.3

From which it was proved that the granite cliff measured 333 feet in
height.
Cyrus Harding then took the instrument which he had made the evening
before, the space between its two legs giving the angular distance between
the star Alpha and the horizon. He measured, very exactly, the opening of
this angle on a circumference which he divided into 360 equal parts. Now,
this angle by adding to it the twenty-seven degrees which separated Alpha
from the antarctic pole, and by reducing to the level of the sea the height of
the cliff on which the observation had been made, was found to be fifty-
three degrees. These fifty-three degrees being subtracted from ninety
degrees—the distance from the pole to the equator—there remained thirty-
seven degrees. Cyrus Harding concluded, therefore, that Lincoln Island was
situated on the thirty-seventh degree of the southern latitude, or taking into
consideration through the imperfection of the performance, an error of five
degrees, that it must be situated between the thirty-fifth and the fortieth
parallel.
There was only the longitude to be obtained, and the position of the
island would be determined, The engineer hoped to attempt this the same
day, at twelve o’clock, at which moment the sun would pass the meridian.
It was decided that Sunday should be spent in a walk, or rather an
exploring expedition, to that side of the island between the north of the lake
and Shark Gulf, and if there was time they would push their discoveries to
the northern side of Cape South Mandible. They would breakfast on the
downs, and not return till evening.
At half-past eight the little band was following the edge of the channel.
On the other side, on Safety Islet, numerous birds were gravely strutting.
They were divers, easily recognized by their cry, which much resembles the
braying of a donkey. Pencroft only considered them in an eatable point of
view, and learnt with some satisfaction that their flesh, though blackish, is
not bad food.
Great amphibious creatures could also be seen crawling on the sand;
seals, doubtless, who appeared to have chosen the islet for a place of refuge.

It was impossible to think of those animals in an alimentary point of view,
for their oily flesh is detestable; however, Cyrus Harding observed them
attentively, and without making known his idea, he announced to his
companions that very soon they would pay a visit to the islet. The beach
was strewn with innumerable shells, some of which would have rejoiced the
heart of a conchologist; there were, among others, the phasianella, the
terebratual, etc. But what would be of more use, was the discovery, by Neb,
at low tide, of a large oysterbed among the rocks, nearly five miles from the
Chimneys.
“Neb will not have lost his day,” cried Pencroft, looking at the spacious
oyster-bed.
“It is really a fortunate discovery,” said the reporter, “and as it is said that
each oyster produces yearly from fifty to sixty thousand eggs, we shall have
an inexhaustible supply there.”
“Only I believe that the oyster is not very nourishing,” said Herbert.
“No,” replied Harding. “The oyster contains very little nitrogen, and if a
man lived exclusively on them, he would have to eat not less than fifteen to
sixteen dozen a day.”
“Capital!” replied Pencroft. “We might swallow dozens and dozens
without exhausting the bed. Shall we take some for breakfast?”
And without waiting for a reply to this proposal, knowing that it would
be approved of, the sailor and Neb detached a quantity of the molluscs.
They put them in a sort of net of hibiscus fiber, which Neb had
manufactured, and which already contained food; they then continued to
climb the coast between the downs and the sea.
From time to time Harding consulted his watch, so as to be prepared in
time for the solar observation, which had to be made exactly at midday.
All that part of the island was very barren as far as the point which closed
Union Bay, and which had received the name of Cape South Mandible.
Nothing could be seen there but sand and shells, mingled with debris of
lava. A few sea-birds frequented this desolate coast, gulls, great albatrosses,
as well as wild duck, for which Pencroft had a great fancy. He tried to
knock some over with an arrow, but without result, for they seldom
perched, and he could not hit them on the wing.
This led the sailor to repeat to the engineer,—

“You see, captain, so long as we have not one or two fowling-pieces, we
shall never get anything!”
“Doubtless, Pencroft,” replied the reporter, “but it depends on you.
Procure us some iron for the barrels, steel for the hammers, saltpeter. coal
and sulphur for powder, mercury and nitric acid for the fulminate, and lead
for the shot, and the captain will make us first-rate guns.”
“Oh!” replied the engineer, “we might, no doubt, find all these substances
on the island, but a gun is a delicate instrument, and needs very particular
tools. However, we shall see later!”
“Why,” cried Pencroft, “were we obliged to throw overboard all the
weapons we had with us in the car, all our implements, even our pocket-
knives?”
“But if we had not thrown them away, Pencroft, the balloon would have
thrown us to the bottom of the sea!” said Herbert.
“What you say is true, my boy,” replied the sailor.
Then passing to another idea,—“Think,” said he, “how astounded
Jonathan Forster and his companions must have been when, next morning,
they found the place empty, and the machine flown away!”
“I am utterly indifferent about knowing what they may have thought,”
said the reporter.
“It was all my idea, that!” said Pencroft, with a satisfied air.
“A splendid idea, Pencroft!” replied Gideon Spilett, laughing, “and which
has placed us where we are.”
“I would rather be here than in the hands of the Southerners,” cried the
sailor, “especially since the captain has been kind enough to come and join
us again.”
“So would I, truly!” replied the reporter. “Besides, what do we want?
Nothing.”
“If that is not—everything!” replied Pencroft, laughing and shrugging his
shoulders. “But, some day or other, we shall find means of going away!”
“Sooner, perhaps, than you imagine, my friends,” remarked the engineer,
“if Lincoln Island is but a medium distance from an inhabited island, or
from a continent. We shall know in an hour. I have not a map of the Pacific,
but my memory has preserved a very clear recollection of its southern part.

The latitude which I obtained yesterday placed New Zealand to the west of
Lincoln Island, and the coast of Chile to the east. But between these two
countries, there is a distance of at least six thousand miles. It has, therefore,
to be determined what point in this great space the island occupies, and this
the longitude will give us presently, with a sufficient approximation, I
hope.”
“Is not the archipelago of the Pomoutous the nearest point to us in
latitude?” asked Herbert.
“Yes,” replied the engineer, “but the distance which separates us from it
is more than twelve hundred miles.”
“And that way?” asked Neb, who followed the conversation with extreme
interest, pointing to the south.
“That way, nothing,” replied Pencroft.
“Nothing, indeed,” added the engineer.
“Well, Cyrus,” asked the reporter, “if Lincoln Island is not more than two
or three thousand miles from New Zealand or Chile?”
“Well,” replied the engineer, “instead of building a house we will build a
boat, and Master Pencroft shall be put in command—”
“Well then,” cried the sailor, “I am quite ready to be captain—as soon as
you can make a craft that’s able to keep at sea!”
“We shall do it, if it is necessary,” replied Cyrus Harding.
But while these men, who really hesitated at nothing, were talking, the
hour approached at which the observation was to be made. What Cyrus
Harding was to do to ascertain the passage of the sun at the meridian of the
island, without an instrument of any sort, Herbert could not guess.
The observers were then about six miles from the Chimneys, not far from
that part of the downs in which the engineer had been found after his
enigmatical preservation. They halted at this place and prepared for
breakfast, for it was half-past eleven. Herbert went for some fresh water
from a stream which ran near, and brought it back in a jug, which Neb had
provided.
During these preparations Harding arranged everything for his
astronomical observation. He chose a clear place on the shore, which the
ebbing tide had left perfectly level. This bed of fine sand was as smooth as

ice, not a grain out of place. It was of little importance whether it was
horizontal or not, and it did not matter much whether the stick six feet high,
which was planted there, rose perpendicularly. On the contrary, the engineer
inclined it towards the south, that is to say, in the direction of the coast
opposite to the sun, for it must not be forgotten that the settlers in Lincoln
Island, as the island was situated in the Southern Hemisphere, saw the
radiant planet describe its diurnal arc above the northern, and not above the
southern horizon.
Herbert now understood how the engineer was going to proceed to
ascertain the culmination of the sun, that is to say its passing the meridian
of the island or, in other words, determine due south. It was by means of the
shadow cast on the sand by the stick, a way which, for want of an
instrument, would give him a suitable approach to the result which he
wished to obtain.
In fact, the moment when this shadow would reach its minimum of
length would be exactly twelve o’clock, and it would be enough to watch
the extremity of the shadow, so as to ascertain the instant when, after having
successively diminished, it began to lengthen. By inclining his stick to the
side opposite to the sun, Cyrus Harding made the shadow longer, and
consequently its modifications would be more easily ascertained. In fact,
the longer the needle of a dial is, the more easily can the movement of its
point be followed. The shadow of the stick was nothing but the needle of a
dial. The moment had come, and Cyrus Harding knelt on the sand, and with
little wooden pegs, which he stuck into the sand, he began to mark the
successive diminutions of the stick’s shadow. His companions, bending
over him, watched the operation with extreme interest. The reporter held his
chronometer in his hand, ready to tell the hour which it marked when the
shadow would be at its shortest. Moreover, as Cyrus Harding was working
on the 16th of April, the day on which the true and the average time are
identical, the hour given by Gideon Spilett would be the true hour then at
Washington, which would simplify the calculation. Meanwhile as the sun
slowly advanced, the shadow slowly diminished, and when it appeared to
Cyrus Harding that it was beginning to increase, he asked, “What o’clock is
it?”
“One minute past five,” replied Gideon Spilett directly. They had now
only to calculate the operation. Nothing could be easier. It could be seen

that there existed, in round numbers, a difference of five hours between the
meridian of Washington and that of Lincoln Island, that is to say, it was
midday in Lincoln Island when it was already five o’clock in the evening in
Washington. Now the sun, in its apparent movement round the earth,
traverses one degree in four minutes, or fifteen degrees an hour. Fifteen
degrees multiplied by five hours give seventy-five degrees.
Then, since Washington is 77deg 3’ 11” as much as to say seventy-seven
degrees counted from the meridian of Greenwich which the Americans take
for their starting-point for longitudes concurrently with the English—it
followed that the island must be situated seventy-seven and seventy-five
degrees west of the meridian of Greenwich, that is to say, on the hundred
and fifty-second degree of west longitude.
Cyrus Harding announced this result to his companions, and taking into
consideration errors of observation, as he had done for the latitude, he
believed he could positively affirm that the position of Lincoln Island was
between the thirty-fifth and the thirty-seventh parallel, and between the
hundred and fiftieth and the hundred and fifty-fifth meridian to the west of
the meridian of Greenwich.
The possible fault which he attributed to errors in the observation was, it
may be seen, of five degrees on both sides, which, at sixty miles to a
degree, would give an error of three hundred miles in latitude and longitude
for the exact position.
But this error would not influence the determination which it was
necessary to take. It was very evident that Lincoln Island was at such a
distance from every country or island that it would be too hazardous to
attempt to reach one in a frail boat.
In fact, this calculation placed it at least twelve hundred miles from Tahiti
and the islands of the archipelago of the Pomoutous, more than eighteen
hundred miles from New Zealand, and more than four thousand five
hundred miles from the American coast!
And when Cyrus Harding consulted his memory, he could not remember
in any way that such an island occupied, in that part of the Pacific, the
situation assigned to Lincoln Island.

Chapter 15
The next day, the 17th of April, the sailor’s first words were addressed to
Gideon Spilett.
“Well, sir,” he asked, “what shall we do to-day?”
“What the captain pleases,” replied the reporter.
Till then the engineer’s companions had been brickmakers and potters,
now they were to become metallurgists.
The day before, after breakfast, they had explored as far as the point of
Mandible Cape, seven miles distant from the Chimneys. There, the long
series of downs ended, and the soil had a volcanic appearance. There were
no longer high cliffs as at Prospect Heights, but a strange and capricious
border which surrounded the narrow gulf between the two capes, formed of
mineral matter, thrown up by the volcano. Arrived at this point the settlers
retraced their steps, and at nightfall entered the Chimneys; but they did not
sleep before the question of knowing whether they could think of leaving
Lincoln Island or not was definitely settled.
The twelve hundred miles which separated the island from the
Pomoutous Island was a considerable distance. A boat could not cross it,
especially at the approach of the bad season. Pencroft had expressly
declared this. Now, to construct a simple boat even with the necessary tools,
was a difficult work, and the colonists not having tools they must begin by
making hammers, axes, adzes, saws, augers, planes, etc., which would take
some time. It was decided, therefore, that they would winter at Lincoln
Island, and that they would look for a more comfortable dwelling than the
Chimneys, in which to pass the winter months.
Before anything else could be done it was necessary to make the iron ore,
of which the engineer had observed some traces in the northwest part of the
island, fit for use by converting it either into iron or into steel.
Metals are not generally found in the ground in a pure state. For the most
part they are combined with oxygen or sulphur. Such was the case with the
two specimens which Cyrus Harding had brought back, one of magnetic
iron, not carbonated, the other a pyrite, also called sulphuret of iron. It was,

therefore the first, the oxide of iron, which they must reduce with coal, that
is to say, get rid of the oxygen, to obtain it in a pure state. This reduction is
made by subjecting the ore with coal to a high temperature, either by the
rapid and easy Catalan method, which has the advantage of transforming
the ore into iron in a single operation, or by the blast furnace, which first
smelts the ore, then changes it into iron, by carrying away the three to four
per cent. of coal, which is combined with it.
Now Cyrus Harding wanted iron, and he wished to obtain it as soon as
possible. The ore which he had picked up was in itself very pure and rich. It
was the oxydulous iron, which is found in confused masses of a deep gray
color; it gives a black dust, crystallized in the form of the regular
octahedron. Native lodestones consist of this ore, and iron of the first
quality is made in Europe from that with which Sweden and Norway are so
abundantly supplied. Not far from this vein was the vein of coal already
made use of by the settlers. The ingredients for the manufacture being close
together would greatly facilitate the treatment of the ore. This is the cause
of the wealth of the mines in Great Britain, where the coal aids the
manufacture of the metal extracted from the same soil at the same time as
itself.
“Then, captain,” said Pencroft, “we are going to work iron ore?”
“Yes, my friend,” replied the engineer, “and for that—something which
will please you—we must begin by having a seal hunt on the islet.”
“A seal hunt!” cried the sailor, turning towards Gideon Spilett. “Are seals
needed to make iron?”
“Since Cyrus has said so!” replied the reporter.
But the engineer had already left the Chimneys, and Pencroft prepared
for the seal hunt, without having received any other explanation.
Cyrus Harding, Herbert, Gideon Spilett, Neb, and the sailor were soon
collected on the shore, at a place where the channel left a ford passable at
low tide. The hunters could therefore traverse it without getting wet higher
than the knee.
Harding then put his foot on the islet for the first, and his companions for
the second time.
On their landing some hundreds of penguins looked fearlessly at them.
The hunters, armed with sticks, could have killed them easily, but they were

not guilty of such useless massacre, as it was important not to frighten the
seals, who were lying on the sand several cable lengths off. They also
respected certain innocent-looking birds, whose wings were reduced to the
state of stumps, spread out like fins, ornamented with feathers of a scaly
appearance. The settlers, therefore, prudently advanced towards the north
point, walking over ground riddled with little holes, which formed nests for
the sea-birds. Towards the extremity of the islet appeared great black heads
floating just above the water, having exactly the appearance of rocks in
motion.
These were the seals which were to be captured. It was necessary,
however, first to allow them to land, for with their close, short hair, and
their fusiform conformation, being excellent swimmers, it is difficult to
catch them in the sea, while on land their short, webbed feet prevent their
having more than a slow, waddling movement.
Pencroft knew the habits of these creatures, and he advised waiting till
they were stretched on the sand, when the sun, before long, would send
them to sleep. They must then manage to cut off their retreat and knock
them on the head.
The hunters, having concealed themselves behind the rocks, waited
silently.
An hour passed before the seals came to play on the sand. They could
count half a dozen. Pencroft and Herbert then went round the point of the
islet, so as to take them in the rear, and cut off their retreat. During this time
Cyrus Harding, Spilett, and Neb, crawling behind the rocks, glided towards
the future scene of combat.
All at once the tall figure of the sailor appeared. Pencroft shouted. The
engineer and his two companions threw themselves between the sea and the
seals. Two of the animals soon lay dead on the sand, but the rest regained
the sea in safety.
“Here are the seals required, captain!” said the sailor, advancing towards
the engineer.
“Capital,” replied Harding. “We will make bellows of them!”
“Bellows!” cried Pencroft. “Well! these are lucky seals!”
It was, in fact, a blowing-machine, necessary for the treatment of the ore
that the engineer wished to manufacture with the skins of the amphibious

creatures. They were of a medium size, for their length did not exceed six
feet. They resembled a dog about the head.
As it was useless to burden themselves with the weight of both the
animals, Neb and Pencroft resolved to skin them on the spot, while Cyrus
Harding and the reporter continued to explore the islet.
The sailor and the Negro cleverly performed the operation, and three
hours afterwards Cyrus Harding had at his disposal two seals’ skins, which
he intended to use in this state, without subjecting them to any tanning
process.
The settlers waited till the tide was again low, and crossing the channel
they entered the Chimneys.
The skins had then to be stretched on a frame of wood and sewn by
means of fibers so as to preserve the air without allowing too much to
escape. Cyrus Harding had nothing but the two steel blades from Top’s
collar, and yet he was so clever, and his companions aided him with so
much intelligence, that three days afterwards the little colony’s stock of
tools was augmented by a blowing-machine, destined to inject the air into
the midst of the ore when it should be subjected to heat—an indispensable
condition to the success of the operation.
On the morning of the 20th of April began the “metallic period,” as the
reporter called it in his notes. The engineer had decided, as has been said, to
operate near the veins both of coal and ore. Now, according to his
observations, these veins were situated at the foot of the northeast spurs of
Mount Franklin, that is to say, a distance of six miles from their home. It
was impossible, therefore, to return every day to the Chimneys, and it was
agreed that the little colony should camp under a hut of branches, so that the
important operation could be followed night and day.
This settled, they set out in the morning. Neb and Pencroft dragged the
bellows on a hurdle; also a quantity of vegetables and animals, which they
besides could renew on the way.
The road led through Jacamar Wood, which they traversed obliquely
from southeast to northwest, and in the thickest part. It was necessary to
beat a path, which would in the future form the most direct road to Prospect
Heights and Mount Franklin. The trees, belonging to the species already
discovered, were magnificent. Herbert found some new ones, among others
some which Pencroft called “sham leeks”; for, in spite of their size, they

were of the same liliaceous family as the onion, chive, shallot, or asparagus.
These trees produce ligneous roots which, when cooked, are excellent; from
them, by fermentation, a very agreeable liquor is made. They therefore
made a good store of the roots.
The journey through the wood was long; it lasted the whole day, and so
allowed plenty of time for examining the flora and fauna. Top, who took
special charge of the fauna, ran through the grass and brushwood, putting
up all sorts of game. Herbert and Gideon Spilett killed two kangaroos with
bows and arrows, and also an animal which strongly resembled both a
hedgehog and an ant-eater. It was like the first because it rolled itself into a
ball, and bristled with spines, and the second because it had sharp claws, a
long slender snout which terminated in a bird’s beak, and an extendible
tongue, covered with little thorns which served to hold the insects.
“And when it is in the pot,” asked Pencroft naturally, “what will it be
like?”
“An excellent piece of beef,” replied Herbert.
“We will not ask more from it,” replied the sailor.
During this excursion they saw several wild boars, which however, did
not offer to attack the little band, and it appeared as if they would not meet
with any dangerous beasts; when, in a thick part of the wood, the reporter
thought he saw, some paces from him, among the lower branches of a tree,
an animal which he took for a bear, and which he very tranquilly began to
draw. Happily for Gideon Spilett, the animal in question did not belong to
the redoubtable family of the plantigrades. It was only a koala, better
known under the name of the sloth, being about the size of a large dog, and
having stiff hair of a dirty color, the paws armed with strong claws, which
enabled it to climb trees and feed on the leaves. Having identified the
animal, which they did not disturb, Gideon Spilett erased “bear” from the
title of his sketch, putting koala in its place, and the journey was resumed.
At five o’clock in the evening, Cyrus Harding gave the signal to halt.
They were now outside the forest, at the beginning of the powerful spurs
which supported Mount Franklin towards the west. At a distance of some
hundred feet flowed the Red Creek, and consequently plenty of fresh water
was within their reach.
The camp was soon organized. In less than an hour, on the edge of the
forest, among the trees, a hut of branches interlaced with creepers, and

pasted over with clay, offered a tolerable shelter. Their geological
researches were put off till the next day. Supper was prepared, a good fire
blazed before the hut, the roast turned, and at eight o’clock, while one of the
settlers watched to keep up the fire, in case any wild beasts should prowl in
the neighborhood, the others slept soundly.
The next day, the 21st of April, Cyrus Harding accompanied by Herbert,
went to look for the soil of ancient formation, on which he had already
discovered a specimen of ore. They found the vein above ground, near the
source of the creek, at the foot of one of the northeastern spurs. This ore,
very rich in iron, enclosed in its fusible veinstone, was perfectly suited to
the mode of reduction which the engineer intended to employ; that is, the
Catalan method, but simplified, as it is used in Corsica. In fact, the Catalan
method, properly so called, requires the construction of kilns and crucibles,
in which the ore and the coal, placed in alternate layers, are transformed and
reduced, But Cyrus Harding intended to economize these constructions, and
wished simply to form, with the ore and the coal, a cubic mass, to the center
of which he would direct the wind from his bellows. Doubtless, it was the
proceeding employed by Tubalcain, and the first metallurgists of the
inhabited world. Now that which had succeeded with the grandson of
Adam, and which still yielded good results in countries rich in ore and fuel,
could not but succeed with the settlers in Lincoln Island.
The coal, as well as the ore, was collected without trouble on the surface
of the ground. They first broke the ore into little pieces, and cleansed them
with the hand from the impurities which soiled their surface. Then coal and
ore were arranged in heaps and in successive layers, as the charcoal-burner
does with the wood which he wishes to carbonize. In this way, under the
influence of the air projected by the blowing-machine, the coal would be
transformed into carbonic acid, then into oxide of carbon, its use being to
reduce the oxide of iron, that is to say, to rid it of the oxygen.
Thus the engineer proceeded. The bellows of sealskin, furnished at its
extremity with a nozzle of clay, which had been previously fabricated in the
pottery kiln, was established near the heap of ore. Using the mechanism
which consisted of a frame, cords of fiber and counterpoise, he threw into
the mass an abundance of air, which by raising the temperature also
concurred with the chemical transformation to produce in time pure iron.

The operation was difficult. All the patience, all the ingenuity of the
settlers was needed; but at last it succeeded, and the result was a lump of
iron, reduced to a spongy state, which it was necessary to shingle and fagot,
that is to say, to forge so as to expel from it the liquefied veinstone. These
amateur smiths had, of course, no hammer; but they were in no worse a
situation than the first metallurgist, and therefore did what, no doubt, he had
to do.
A handle was fixed to the first lump, and was used as a hammer to forge
the second on a granite anvil, and thus they obtained a coarse but useful
metal. At length, after many trials and much fatigue, on the 25th of April
several bars of iron were forged, and transformed into tools, crowbars,
pincers, pickaxes, spades, etc., which Pencroft and Neb declared to be real
jewels. But the metal was not yet in its most serviceable state, that is, of
steel. Now steel is a combination of iron and coal, which is extracted, either
from the liquid ore, by taking from it the excess of coal, or from the iron by
adding to it the coal which was wanting. The first, obtained by the
decarburation of the metal, gives natural or puddled steel; the second,
produced by the carburation of the iron, gives steel of cementation.
It was the last which Cyrus Harding intended to forge, as he possessed
iron in a pure state. He succeeded by heating the metal with powdered coal
in a crucible which had previously been manufactured from clay suitable
for the purpose.
He then worked this steel, which is malleable both when hot or cold, with
the hammer. Neb and Pencroft, cleverly directed, made hatchets, which,
heated red-hot, and plunged suddenly into cold water, acquired an excellent
temper.
Other instruments, of course roughly fashioned, were also manufactured;
blades for planes, axes, hatchets, pieces of steel to be transformed into
saws, chisels; then iron for spades, pickaxes, hammers, nails, etc. At last, on
the 5th of May, the metallic period ended, the smiths returned to the
Chimneys, and new work would soon authorize them to take a fresh title.

Chapter 16
It was the 6th of May, a day which corresponds to the 6th of November
in the countries of the Northern Hemisphere. The sky had been obscured for
some days, and it was of importance to make preparations for the winter.
However, the temperature was not as yet much lower, and a centigrade
thermometer, transported to Lincoln Island, would still have marked an
average of ten to twelve degrees above zero. This was not surprising, since
Lincoln Island, probably situated between the thirty-fifth and fortieth
parallel, would be subject, in the Southern Hemisphere, to the same climate
as Sicily or Greece in the Northern Hemisphere. But as Greece and Sicily
have severe cold, producing snow and ice, so doubtless would Lincoln
Island in the severest part of the winter and it was advisable to provide
against it.
In any case if cold did not yet threaten them, the rainy season would
begin, and on this lonely island, exposed to all the fury of the elements, in
mid-ocean, bad weather would be frequent, and probably terrible. The
question of a more comfortable dwelling than the Chimneys must therefore
be seriously considered and promptly resolved on.
Pencroft, naturally, had some predilection for the retreat which he had
discovered, but he well understood that another must be found. The
Chimneys had been already visited by the sea, under circumstances which
are known, and it would not do to be exposed again to a similar accident.
“Besides,” added Cyrus Harding, who this day was talking of these
things with his companions, “we have some precautions to take.”
“Why? The island is not inhabited,” said the reporter.
“That is probable,” replied the engineer, “although we have not yet
explored the interior; but if no human beings are found, I fear that
dangerous animals may abound. It is necessary to guard against a possible
attack, so that we shall not be obliged to watch every night, or to keep up a
fire. And then, my friends, we must foresee everything. We are here in a
part of the Pacific often frequented by Malay pirates—”
“What!” said Herbert, “at such a distance from land?”

“Yes, my boy,” replied the engineer. “These pirates are bold sailors as
well as formidable enemies, and we must take measures accordingly.”
“Well,” replied Pencroft, “we will fortify ourselves against savages with
two legs as well as against savages with four. But, captain, will it not be
best to explore every part of the island before undertaking anything else?”
“That would be best,” added Gideon Spilett.
“Who knows if we might not find on the opposite side one of the caverns
which we have searched for in vain here?”
“That is true,” replied the engineer, “but you forget, my friends, that it
will be necessary to establish ourselves in the neighborhood of a
watercourse, and that, from the summit of Mount Franklin, we could not see
towards the west, either stream or river. Here, on the contrary, we are placed
between the Mercy and Lake Grant, an advantage which must not be
neglected. And, besides, this side, looking towards the east, is not exposed
as the other is to the trade-winds, which in this hemisphere blow from the
northwest.”
“Then, captain,” replied the sailor, “let us build a house on the edge of
the lake. Neither bricks nor tools are wanting now. After having been
brickmakers, potters, smelters, and smiths, we shall surely know how to be
masons!”
“Yes, my friend; but before coming to any decision we must consider the
matter thoroughly. A natural dwelling would spare us much work, and
would be a surer retreat, for it would be as well defended against enemies
from the interior as those from outside.”
“That is true, Cyrus,” replied the reporter, “but we have already
examined all that mass of granite, and there is not a hole, not a cranny!”
“No, not one!” added Pencroft. “Ah, if we were able to dig out a dwelling
in that cliff, at a good height, so as to be out of the reach of harm, that
would be capital! I can see that on the front which looks seaward, five or
six rooms—”
“With windows to light them!” said Herbert, laughing.
“And a staircase to climb up to them!” added Neb.
“You are laughing,” cried the sailor, “and why? What is there impossible
in what I propose? Haven’t we got pickaxes and spades? Won’t Captain

Harding be able to make powder to blow up the mine? Isn’t it true, captain,
that you will make powder the very day we want it?”
Cyrus Harding listened to the enthusiastic Pencroft developing his
fanciful projects. To attack this mass of granite, even by a mine, was
Herculean work, and it was really vexing that nature could not help them at
their need. But the engineer did not reply to the sailor except by proposing
to examine the cliff more attentively, from the mouth of the river to the
angle which terminated it on the north.
They went out, therefore, and the exploration was made with extreme
care, over an extent of nearly two miles. But in no place in the bare, straight
cliff, could any cavity be found. The nests of the rock pigeons which
fluttered at its summit were only, in reality, holes bored at the very top, and
on the irregular edge of the granite.
It was a provoking circumstance, and as to attacking this cliff, either with
pickaxe or with powder, so as to effect a sufficient excavation, it was not to
be thought of. It so happened that, on all this part of the shore, Pencroft had
discovered the only habitable shelter, that is to say, the Chimneys, which
now had to be abandoned.
The exploration ended, the colonists found themselves at the north angle
of the cliff, where it terminated in long slopes which died away on the
shore. From this place, to its extreme limit in the west, it only formed a sort
of declivity, a thick mass of stones, earth, and sand, bound together by
plants, bushes, and grass inclined at an angle of only forty-five degrees.
Clumps of trees grew on these slopes, which were also carpeted with thick
grass. But the vegetation did not extend far, and a long, sandy plain, which
began at the foot of these slopes, reached to the beach.
Cyrus Harding thought, not without reason, that the overplus of the lake
must overflow on this side. The excess of water furnished by the Red Creek
must also escape by some channel or other. Now the engineer had not yet
found this channel on any part of the shore already explored, that is to say,
from the mouth of the stream on the west of Prospect Heights.
The engineer now proposed to his companions to climb the slope, and to
return to the Chimneys by the heights, while exploring the northern and
eastern shores of the lake. The proposal was accepted, and in a few minutes
Herbert and Neb were on the upper plateau. Cyrus Harding, Gideon Spilett,
and Pencroft followed with more sedate steps.

The beautiful sheet of water glittered through the trees under the rays of
the sun. In this direction the country was charming. The eye feasted on the
groups of trees. Some old trunks, bent with age, showed black against the
verdant grass which covered the ground. Crowds of brilliant cockatoos
screamed among the branches, moving prisms, hopping from one bough to
another.
The settlers instead of going directly to the north bank of the lake, made a
circuit round the edge of the plateau, so as to join the mouth of the creek on
its left bank. It was a detour of more than a mile and a half. Walking was
easy, for the trees widely spread, left a considerable space between them.
The fertile zone evidently stopped at this point, and vegetation would be
less vigorous in the part between the course of the Creek and the Mercy.
Cyrus Harding and his companions walked over this new ground with
great care. Bows, arrows, and sticks with sharp iron points were their only
weapons. However, no wild beast showed itself, and it was probable that
these animals frequented rather the thick forests in the south; but the settlers
had the disagreeable surprise of seeing Top stop before a snake of great
size, measuring from fourteen to fifteen feet in length. Neb killed it by a
blow from his stick. Cyrus Harding examined the reptile, and declared it not
venomous, for it belonged to that species of diamond serpents which the
natives of New South Wales rear. But it was possible that others existed
whose bite was mortal such as the deaf vipers with forked tails, which rise
up under the feet, or those winged snakes, furnished with two ears, which
enable them to proceed with great rapidity. Top, the first moment of surprise
over, began a reptile chase with such eagerness, that they feared for his
safety. His master called him back directly.
The mouth of the Red Creek, at the place where it entered into the lake,
was soon reached. The explorers recognized on the opposite shore the point
which they had visited on their descent from Mount Franklin. Cyrus
Harding ascertained that the flow of water into it from the creek was
considerable. Nature must therefore have provided some place for the
escape of the overplus. This doubtless formed a fall, which, if it could be
discovered, would be of great use.
The colonists, walking apart, but not straying far from each other, began
to skirt the edge of the lake, which was very steep. The water appeared to

be full of fish, and Pencroft resolved to make some fishing-rods, so as to try
and catch some.
The northeast point was first to be doubled. It might have been supposed
that the discharge of water was at this place, for the extremity of the lake
was almost on a level with the edge of the plateau. But no signs of this were
discovered, and the colonists continued to explore the bank, which, after a
slight bend, descended parallel to the shore.
On this side the banks were less woody, but clumps of trees, here and
there, added to the picturesqueness of the country. Lake Grant was viewed
from thence in all its extent, and no breath disturbed the surface of its
waters. Top, in beating the bushes, put up flocks of birds of different kinds,
which Gideon Spilett and Herbert saluted with arrows. One was hit by the
lad, and fell into some marshy grass. Top rushed forward, and brought a
beautiful swimming bird, of a slate color, short beak, very developed frontal
plate, and wings edged with white. It was a “coot,” the size of a large
partridge, belonging to the group of macrodactyls which form the transition
between the order of wading birds and that of palmipeds. Sorry game, in
truth, and its flavor is far from pleasant. But Top was not so particular in
these things as his masters, and it was agreed that the coot should be for his
supper.
The settlers were now following the eastern bank of the lake, and they
would not be long in reaching the part which they already knew. The
engineer was much surprised at not seeing any indication of the discharge
of water. The reporter and the sailor talked with him, and he could not
conceal his astonishment.
At this moment Top, who had been very quiet till then, gave signs of
agitation. The intelligent animal went backwards and forwards on the shore,
stopped suddenly, and looked at the water, one paw raised, as if he was
pointing at some invisible game; then he barked furiously, and was
suddenly silent.
Neither Cyrus Harding nor his companions had at first paid any attention
to Top’s behavior; but the dog’s barking soon became so frequent that the
engineer noticed it.
“What is there, Top?” he asked.
The dog bounded towards his master, seeming to be very uneasy, and
then rushed again towards the bank. Then, all at once, he plunged into the

lake.
“Here, Top!” cried Cyrus Harding, who did not like his dog to venture
into the treacherous water.
“What’s happening down there?” asked Pencroft, examining the surface
of the lake.
“Top smells some amphibious creature,” replied Herbert.
“An alligator, perhaps,” said the reporter.
“I do not think so,” replied Harding. “Alligators are only met with in
regions less elevated in latitude.”
Meanwhile Top had returned at his master’s call, and had regained the
shore: but he could not stay quiet; he plunged in among the tall grass, and
guided by instinct, he appeared to follow some invisible being which was
slipping along under the surface of the water. However the water was calm;
not a ripple disturbed its surface. Several times the settlers stopped on the
bank, and observed it attentively. Nothing appeared. There was some
mystery there.
The engineer was puzzled.
“Let us pursue this exploration to the end,” said he.
Half an hour after they had all arrived at the southeast angle of the lake,
on Prospect Heights. At this point the examination of the banks of the lake
was considered finished, and yet the engineer had not been able to discover
how and where the waters were discharged. “There is no doubt this
overflow exists,” he repeated, “and since it is not visible it must go through
the granite cliff at the west!”
“But what importance do you attach to knowing that, my dear Cyrus?”
asked Gideon Spilett.
“Considerable importance,” replied the engineer; “for if it flows through
the cliff there is probably some cavity, which it would be easy to render
habitable after turning away the water.”
“But is it not possible, captain, that the water flows away at the bottom of
the lake,” said Herbert, “and that it reaches the sea by some subterranean
passage?”
“That might be,” replied the engineer, “and should it be so we shall be
obliged to build our house ourselves, since nature has not done it for us.”

The colonists were about to begin to traverse the plateau to return to the
Chimneys, when Top gave new signs of agitation. He barked with fury, and
before his master could restrain him, he had plunged a second time into the
lake.
All ran towards the bank. The dog was already more than twenty feet off,
and Cyrus was calling him back, when an enormous head emerged from the
water, which did not appear to be deep in that place.
Herbert recognized directly the species of amphibian to which the
tapering head, with large eyes, and adorned with long silky mustaches,
belonged.
“A lamantin!” he cried.
It was not a lamantin, but one of that species of the order of cetaceans,
which bear the name of the “dugong,” for its nostrils were open at the upper
part of its snout. The enormous animal rushed on the dog, who tried to
escape by returning towards the shore. His master could do nothing to save
him, and before Gideon Spilett or Herbert thought of bending their bows,
Top, seized by the dugong, had disappeared beneath the water.
Neb, his iron-tipped spear in his hand, wished to go to Top’s help, and
attack the dangerous animal in its own element.
“No, Neb,” said the engineer, restraining his courageous servant.
Meanwhile, a struggle was going on beneath the water, an inexplicable
struggle, for in his situation Top could not possibly resist; and judging by
the bubbling of the surface it must be also a terrible struggle, and could not
but terminate in the death of the dog! But suddenly, in the middle of a
foaming circle, Top reappeared. Thrown in the air by some unknown power,
he rose ten feet above the surface of the lake, fell again into the midst of the
agitated waters, and then soon gained the shore, without any severe
wounds, miraculously saved.
Cyrus Harding and his companions could not understand it. What was not
less inexplicable was that the struggle still appeared to be going on.
Doubtless, the dugong, attacked by some powerful animal, after having
released the dog, was fighting on its own account. But it did not last long.
The water became red with blood, and the body of the dugong, emerging
from the sheet of scarlet which spread around, soon stranded on a little
beach at the south angle of the lake. The colonists ran towards it. The

dugong was dead. It was an enormous animal, fifteen or sixteen feet long,
and must have weighed from three to four thousand pounds. At its neck was
a wound, which appeared to have been produced by a sharp blade.
What could the amphibious creature have been, who, by this terrible
blow had destroyed the formidable dugong? No one could tell, and much
interested in this incident, Harding and his companions returned to the
Chimneys.

Chapter 17
The next day, the 7th of May, Harding and Gideon Spilett, leaving Neb to
prepare breakfast, climbed Prospect Heights, while Herbert and Pencroft
ascended by the river, to renew their store of wood.
The engineer and the reporter soon reached the little beach on which the
dugong had been stranded. Already flocks of birds had attacked the mass of
flesh, and had to be driven away with stones, for Cyrus wished to keep the
fat for the use of the colony. As to the animal’s flesh it would furnish
excellent food, for in the islands of the Malay Archipelago and elsewhere, it
is especially reserved for the table of the native princes. But that was Neb’s
affair.
At this moment Cyrus Harding had other thoughts. He was much
interested in the incident of the day before. He wished to penetrate the
mystery of that submarine combat, and to ascertain what monster could
have given the dugong so strange a wound. He remained at the edge of the
lake, looking, observing; but nothing appeared under the tranquil waters,
which sparkled in the first rays of the rising sun.
At the beach, on which lay the body of the dugong, the water was
tolerably shallow, but from this point the bottom of the lake sloped
gradually, and it was probable that the depth was considerable in the center.
The lake might be considered as a large center basin, which was filled by
the water from the Red Creek.
“Well, Cyrus,” said the reporter, “there seems to be nothing suspicious in
this water.”
“No, my dear Spilett,” replied the engineer, “and I really do not know
how to account for the incident of yesterday.”
“I acknowledge,” returned Spilett, “that the wound given this creature is,
at least, very strange, and I cannot explain either how Top was so
vigorously cast up out of the water. One could have thought that a powerful
arm hurled him up, and that the same arm with a dagger killed the dugong!”
“Yes,” replied the engineer, who had become thoughtful; “there is
something there that I cannot understand. But do you better understand

either, my dear Spilett, in what way I was saved myself—how I was drawn
from the waves, and carried to the downs? No! Is it not true? Now, I feel
sure that there is some mystery there, which, doubtless, we shall discover
some day. Let us observe, but do not dwell on these singular incidents
before our companions. Let us keep our remarks to ourselves, and continue
our work.”
It will be remembered that the engineer had not as yet been able to
discover the place where the surplus water escaped, but he knew it must
exist somewhere. He was much surprised to see a strong current at this
place. By throwing in some bits of wood he found that it set towards the
southern angle. He followed the current, and arrived at the south point of
the lake.
There was there a sort of depression in the water, as if it was suddenly
lost in some fissure in the ground.
Harding listened; placing his ear to the level of the lake, he very
distinctly heard the noise of a subterranean fall.
“There,” said he, rising, “is the discharge of the water; there, doubtless,
by a passage in the granite cliff, it joins the sea, through cavities which we
can use to our profit. Well, I can find it!”
The engineer cut a long branch, stripped it of its leaves, and plunging it
into the angle between the two banks, he found that there was a large hole
one foot only beneath the surface of the water. This hole was the opening so
long looked for in vain, and the force of the current was such that the
branch was torn from the engineer’s hands and disappeared.
“There is no doubt about it now,” repeated Harding. “There is the outlet,
and I will lay it open to view!”
“How?” asked Gideon Spilett.
“By lowering the level of the water of the lake three feet.”
“And how will you lower the level?”
“By opening another outlet larger than this.”
“At what place, Cyrus?”
“At the part of the bank nearest the coast.”
“But it is a mass of granite!” observed Spilett.

“Well,” replied Cyrus Harding, “I will blow up the granite, and the water
escaping, will subside, so as to lay bare this opening—”
“And make a waterfall, by falling on to the beach,” added the reporter.
“A fall that we shall make use of!” replied Cyrus. “Come, come!”
The engineer hurried away his companion, whose confidence in Harding
was such that he did not doubt the enterprise would succeed. And yet, how
was this granite wall to be opened without powder, and with imperfect
instruments? Was not this work upon which the engineer was so bent above
their strength?
When Harding and the reporter entered the Chimneys, they found
Herbert and Pencroft unloading their raft of wood.
“The woodmen have just finished, captain.” said the sailor, laughing,
“and when you want masons—”
“Masons,—no, but chemists,” replied the engineer.
“Yes,” added the reporter, “we are going to blow up the island—”
“Blow up the island?” cried Pencroft.
“Part of it, at least,” replied Spilett.
“Listen to me, my friends,” said the engineer. And he made known to
them the result of his observations.
According to him, a cavity, more or less considerable, must exist in the
mass of granite which supported Prospect Heights, and he intended to
penetrate into it. To do this, the opening through which the water rushed
must first be cleared, and the level lowered by making a larger outlet.
Therefore an explosive substance must be manufactured, which would
make a deep trench in some other part of the shore. This was what Harding
was going to attempt with the minerals which nature placed at his disposal.
It is useless to say with what enthusiasm all, especially Pencroft, received
this project. To employ great means, open the granite, create a cascade, that
suited the sailor. And he would just as soon be a chemist as a mason or
bootmaker, since the engineer wanted chemicals. He would be all that they
liked, “even a professor of dancing and deportment,” said he to Neb, if that
was ever necessary.
Neb and Pencroft were first of all told to extract the grease from the
dugong, and to keep the flesh, which was destined for food. Such perfect

confidence had they in the engineer, that they set out directly, without even
asking a question. A few minutes after them, Cyrus Harding, Herbert, and
Gideon Spilett, dragging the hurdle, went towards the vein of coals, where
those shistose pyrites abound which are met with in the most recent
transition soil, and of which Harding had already found a specimen. All the
day being employed in carrying a quantity of these stones to the Chimneys,
by evening they had several tons.
The next day, the 8th of May, the engineer began his manipulations.
These shistose pyrites being composed principally of coal, flint, alumina,
and sulphuret of iron—the latter in excess—it was necessary to separate the
sulphuret of iron, and transform it into sulphate as rapidly as possible. The
sulphate obtained, the sulphuric acid could then be extracted.
This was the object to be attained. Sulphuric acid is one of the agents the
most frequently employed, and the manufacturing importance of a nation
can be measured by the consumption which is made of it. This acid would
later be of great use to the settlers, in the manufacturing of candles, tanning
skins, etc., but this time the engineer reserved it for another use.
Cyrus Harding chose, behind the Chimneys, a site where the ground was
perfectly level. On this ground he placed a layer of branches and chopped
wood, on which were piled some pieces of shistose pyrites, buttressed one
against the other, the whole being covered with a thin layer of pyrites,
previously reduced to the size of a nut.
This done, they set fire to the wood, the heat was communicated to the
shist, which soon kindled, since it contains coal and sulphur. Then new
layers of bruised pyrites were arranged so as to form an immense heap, the
exterior of which was covered with earth and grass, several air-holes being
left, as if it was a stack of wood which was to be carbonized to make
charcoal.
They then left the transformation to complete itself, and it would not take
less than ten or twelve days for the sulphuret of iron to be changed to
sulphate of iron and the alumina into sulphate of alumina, two equally
soluble substances, the others, flint, burnt coal, and cinders, not being so.
While this chemical work was going on, Cyrus Harding proceeded with
other operations, which were pursued with more than zeal,—it was
eagerness.

Neb and Pencroft had taken away the fat from the dugong, and placed it
in large earthen pots. It was then necessary to separate the glycerine from
the fat by saponifying it. Now, to obtain this result, it had to be treated
either with soda or lime. In fact, one or other of these substances, after
having attacked the fat, would form a soap by separating the glycerine, and
it was just this glycerine which the engineer wished to obtain. There was no
want of lime, only treatment by lime would give calcareous soap, insoluble,
and consequently useless, while treatment by soda would furnish, on the
contrary, a soluble soap, which could be put to domestic use. Now, a
practical man, like Cyrus Harding, would rather try to obtain soda. Was this
difficult? No; for marine plants abounded on the shore, glass-wort, ficoides,
and all those fucaceae which form wrack. A large quantity of these plants
was collected, first dried, then burnt in holes in the open air. The
combustion of these plants was kept up for several days, and the result was
a compact gray mass, which has been long known under the name of
“natural soda.”
This obtained, the engineer treated the fat with soda, which gave both a
soluble soap and that neutral substance, glycerine.
But this was not all. Cyrus Harding still needed, in view of his future
preparation, another substance, nitrate of potash, which is better known
under the name of salt niter, or of saltpeter.
Cyrus Harding could have manufactured this substance by treating the
carbonate of potash, which would be easily extracted from the cinders of
the vegetables, by azotic acid. But this acid was wanting, and he would
have been in some difficulty, if nature had not happily furnished the
saltpeter, without giving them any other trouble than that of picking it up.
Herbert found a vein of it at the foot of Mount Franklin, and they had
nothing to do but purify this salt.
These different works lasted a week. They were finished before the
transformation of the sulphuret into sulphate of iron had been
accomplished. During the following days the settlers had time to construct a
furnace of bricks of a particular arrangement, to serve for the distillation of
the sulphate or iron when it had been obtained. All this was finished about
the 18th of May, nearly at the time when the chemical transformation
terminated. Gideon Spilett, Herbert, Neb, and Pencroft, skillfully directed

by the engineer, had become most clever workmen. Before all masters,
necessity is the one most listened to, and who teaches the best.
When the heap of pyrites had been entirely reduced by fire, the result of
the operation, consisting of sulphate of iron, sulphate of alumina, flint,
remains of coal, and cinders was placed in a basinful of water. They stirred
this mixture, let it settle, then decanted it, and obtained a clear liquid
containing in solution sulphate of iron and sulphate of alumina, the other
matters remaining solid, since they are insoluble. Lastly, this liquid being
partly evaporated, crystals of sulphate of iron were deposited, and the not
evaporated liquid, which contained the sulphate of alumina, was thrown
away.
Cyrus Harding had now at his disposal a large quantity of these sulphate
of iron crystals, from which the sulphuric acid had to be extracted. The
making of sulphuric acid is a very expensive manufacture. Considerable
works are necessary—a special set of tools, an apparatus of platina, leaden
chambers, unassailable by the acid, and in which the transformation is
performed, etc. The engineer had none of these at his disposal, but he knew
that, in Bohemia especially, sulphuric acid is manufactured by very simple
means, which have also the advantage of producing it to a superior degree
of concentration. It is thus that the acid known under the name of
Nordhausen acid is made.
To obtain sulphuric acid, Cyrus Harding had only one operation to make,
to calcine the sulphate of iron crystals in a closed vase, so that the sulphuric
acid should distil in vapor, which vapor, by condensation, would produce
the acid.
The crystals were placed in pots, and the heat from the furnace would
distil the sulphuric acid. The operation was successfully completed, and on
the 20th of May, twelve days after commencing it, the engineer was the
possessor of the agent which later he hoped to use in so many different
ways.
Now, why did he wish for this agent? Simply to produce azotic acid; and
that was easy, since saltpeter, attacked by sulphuric acid, gives azotic, or
nitric, acid by distillation.
But, after all, how was he going to employ this azotic acid? His
companions were still ignorant of this, for he had not informed them of the
result at which he aimed.

However, the engineer had nearly accomplished his purpose, and by a
last operation he would procure the substance which had given so much
trouble.
Taking some azotic acid, he mixed it with glycerine, which had been
previously concentrated by evaporation, subjected to the water-bath, and he
obtained, without even employing a refrigerant mixture, several pints of an
oily yellow mixture.
This last operation Cyrus Harding had made alone, in a retired place, at a
distance from the Chimneys, for he feared the danger of an explosion, and
when he showed a bottle of this liquid to his friends, he contented himself
with saying,—
“Here is nitro-glycerine!”
It was really this terrible production, of which the explosive power is
perhaps tenfold that of ordinary powder, and which has already caused so
many accidents. However, since a way has been found to transform it into
dynamite, that is to say, to mix with it some solid substance, clay or sugar,
porous enough to hold it, the dangerous liquid has been used with some
security. But dynamite was not yet known at the time when the settlers
worked on Lincoln Island.
“And is it that liquid that is going to blow up our rocks?” said Pencroft
incredulously.
“Yes, my friend,” replied the engineer, “and this nitro-glycerine will
produce so much the more effect, as the granite is extremely hard, and will
oppose a greater resistance to the explosion.”
“And when shall we see this, captain?”
“To-morrow, as soon as we have dug a hole for the mine, replied the
engineer.”
The next day, the 21st of May, at daybreak, the miners went to the point
which formed the eastern shore of Lake Grant, and was only five hundred
feet from the coast. At this place, the plateau inclined downwards from the
waters, which were only restrained by their granite case. Therefore, if this
case was broken, the water would escape by the opening and form a stream,
which, flowing over the inclined surface of the plateau, would rush on to
the beach. Consequently, the level of the lake would be greatly lowered, and

the opening where the water escaped would be exposed, which was their
final aim.
Under the engineer’s directions, Pencroft, armed with a pickaxe, which
he handled skillfully and vigorously, attacked the granite. The hole was
made on the point of the shore, slanting, so that it should meet a much
lower level than that of the water of the lake. In this way the explosive
force, by scattering the rock, would open a large place for the water to rush
out.
The work took some time, for the engineer, wishing to produce a great
effect, intended to devote not less than seven quarts of nitro-glycerine to the
operation. But Pencroft, relieved by Neb, did so well, that towards four
o’clock in the evening, the mine was finished.
Now the question of setting fire to the explosive substance was raised.
Generally, nitro-glycerine is ignited by caps of fulminate, which in bursting
cause the explosion. A shock is therefore needed to produce the explosion,
for, simply lighted, this substance would burn without exploding.
Cyrus Harding could certainly have fabricated a percussion cap. In
default of fulminate, he could easily obtain a substance similar to
guncotton, since he had azotic acid at his disposal. This substance, pressed
in a cartridge, and introduced among the nitro-glycerine, would burst by
means of a fuse, and cause the explosion.
But Cyrus Harding knew that nitro-glycerine would explode by a shock.
He resolved to employ this means, and try another way, if this did not
succeed.
In fact, the blow of a hammer on a few drops of nitro-glycerine, spread
out on a hard surface, was enough to create an explosion. But the operator
could not be there to give the blow, without becoming a victim to the
operation. Harding, therefore, thought of suspending a mass of iron,
weighing several pounds, by means of a fiber, to an upright just above the
mine. Another long fiber, previously impregnated with sulphur, was
attached to the middle of the first, by one end, while the other lay on the
ground several feet distant from the mine. The second fiber being set on
fire, it would burn till it reached the first. This catching fire in its turn,
would break, and the mass of iron would fall on the nitro-glycerine. This
apparatus being then arranged, the engineer, after having sent his
companions to a distance, filled the hole, so that the nitro-glycerine was on

a level with the opening; then he threw a few drops of it on the surface of
the rock, above which the mass of iron was already suspended.
This done, Harding lit the end of the sulphured fiber, and leaving the
place, he returned with his companions to the Chimneys.
The fiber was intended to burn five and twenty minutes, and, in fact, five
and twenty minutes afterwards a most tremendous explosion was heard.
The island appeared to tremble to its very foundation. Stones were
projected in the air as if by the eruption of a volcano. The shock produced
by the displacing of the air was such, that the rocks of the Chimneys shook.
The settlers, although they were more than two miles from the mine, were
thrown on the ground.
They rose, climbed the plateau, and ran towards the place where the bank
of the lake must have been shattered by the explosion.
A cheer escaped them! A large rent was seen in the granite! A rapid
stream of water rushed foaming across the plateau and dashed down a
height of three hundred feet on to the beach!

Chapter 18
Cyrus Harding’s project had succeeded, but, according to his usual habit
he showed no satisfaction; with closed lips and a fixed look, he remained
motionless. Herbert was in ecstasies, Neb bounded with joy, Pencroft
nodded his great head, murmuring these words,—
“Come, our engineer gets on capitally!”
The nitro-glycerine had indeed acted powerfully. The opening which it
had made was so large that the volume of water which escaped through this
new outlet was at least treble that which before passed through the old one.
The result was, that a short time after the operation the level of the lake
would be lowered two feet, or more.
The settlers went to the Chimneys to take some pickaxes, iron-tipped
spears, string made of fibers, flint and steel; they then returned to the
plateau, Top accompanying them.
On the way the sailor could not help saying to the engineer,—
“Don’t you think, captain, that by means of that charming liquid you
have made, one could blow up the whole of our island?”
“Without any doubt, the island, continents, and the world itself,” replied
the engineer. “It is only a question of quantity.”
“Then could you not use this nitro-glycerine for loading firearms?” asked
the sailor.
“No, Pencroft; for it is too explosive a substance. But it would be easy to
make some guncotton, or even ordinary powder, as we have azotic acid,
saltpeter, sulphur, and coal. Unhappily, it is the guns which we have not got.
“Oh, captain,” replied the sailor, “with a little determination—”
Pencroft had erased the word “impossible” from the dictionary of
Lincoln Island.
The settlers, having arrived at Prospect Heights, went immediately
towards that point of the lake near which was the old opening now
uncovered. This outlet had now become practicable, since the water no

longer rushed through it, and it would doubtless be easy to explore the
interior.
In a few minutes the settlers had reached the lower point of the lake, and
a glance showed them that the object had been attained.
In fact, in the side of the lake, and now above the surface of the water,
appeared the long-looked-for opening. A narrow ridge, left bare by the
retreat of the water, allowed them to approach it. This orifice was nearly
twenty feet in width, but scarcely two in height. It was like the mouth of a
drain at the edge of the pavement, and therefore did not offer an easy
passage to the settlers; but Neb and Pencroft, taking their pickaxes, soon
made it of a suitable height.
The engineer then approached, and found that the sides of the opening, in
its upper part at least, had not a slope of more than from thirty to thirty-five
degrees. It was therefore practicable, and, provided that the declivity did not
increase, it would be easy to descend even to the level of the sea. If then, as
was probable, some vast cavity existed in the interior of the granite, it
might, perhaps, be of great use.
“Well, captain, what are we stopping for?” asked the sailor, impatient to
enter the narrow passage. “You see Top has got before us!”
“Very well,” replied the engineer. “But we must see our way. Neb, go and
cut some resinous branches.”
Neb and Herbert ran to the edge of the lake, shaded with pines and other
green trees, and soon returned with some branches, which they made into
torches. The torches were lighted with flint and steel, and Cyrus Harding
leading, the settlers ventured into the dark passage, which the overplus of
the lake had formerly filled.
Contrary to what might have been supposed, the diameter of the passage
increased as the explorers proceeded, so that they very soon were able to
stand upright. The granite, worn by the water for an infinite time, was very
slippery, and falls were to be dreaded. But the settlers were all attached to
each other by a cord, as is frequently done in ascending mountains. Happily
some projections of the granite, forming regular steps, made the descent
less perilous. Drops, still hanging from the rocks, shone here and there
under the light of the torches, and the explorers guessed that the sides were
clothed with innumerable stalactites. The engineer examined this black
granite. There was not a stratum, not a break in it. The mass was compact,

and of an extremely close grain. The passage dated, then, from the very
origin of the island. It was not the water which little by little had hollowed
it. Pluto and not Neptune had bored it with his own hand, and on the wall
traces of an eruptive work could be distinguished, which all the washing of
the water had not been able totally to efface.
The settlers descended very slowly. They could not but feel a certain awe,
in this venturing into these unknown depths, for the first time visited by
human beings. They did not speak, but they thought; and the thought came
to more than one, that some polypus or other gigantic cephalopod might
inhabit the interior cavities, which were in communication with the sea.
However, Top kept at the head of the little band, and they could rely on the
sagacity of the dog, who would not fail to give the alarm if there was any
need for it.
After having descended about a hundred feet, following a winding road,
Harding who was walking on before, stopped, and his companions came up
with him. The place where they had halted was wider, so as to form a
cavern of moderate dimensions. Drops of water fell from the vault, but that
did not prove that they oozed through the rock. They were simply the last
traces left by the torrent which had so long thundered through this cavity,
and the air there was pure though slightly damp, but producing no mephitic
exhalation.
“Well, my dear Cyrus,” said Gideon Spilett, “here is a very secure retreat,
well hid in the depths of the rock, but it is, however, uninhabitable.”
“Why uninhabitable?” asked the sailor.
“Because it is too small and too dark.”
“Couldn’t we enlarge it, hollow it out, make openings to let in light and
air?” replied Pencroft, who now thought nothing impossible.
“Let us go on with our exploration,” said Cyrus Harding. “Perhaps lower
down, nature will have spared us this labor.”
“We have only gone a third of the way,” observed Herbert.
“Nearly a third,” replied Harding, “for we have descended a hundred feet
from the opening, and it is not impossible that a hundred feet farther down
—”
“Where is Top?” asked Neb, interrupting his master.
They searched the cavern, but the dog was not there.

“Most likely he has gone on,” said Pencroft.
“Let us join him,” replied Harding.
The descent was continued. The engineer carefully observed all the
deviations of the passage, and notwithstanding so many detours, he could
easily have given an account of its general direction, which went towards
the sea.
The settlers had gone some fifty feet farther, when their attention was
attracted by distant sounds which came up from the depths. They stopped
and listened. These sounds, carried through the passage as through an
acoustic tube, came clearly to the ear.
“That is Top barking!” cried Herbert.
“Yes,” replied Pencroft, “and our brave dog is barking furiously!”
“We have our iron-tipped spears,” said Cyrus Harding. “Keep on your
guard, and forward!”
“It is becoming more and more interesting,” murmured Gideon Spilett in
the sailor’s ear, who nodded. Harding and his companions rushed to the
help of their dog. Top’s barking became more and more perceptible, and it
seemed strangely fierce. Was he engaged in a struggle with some animal
whose retreat he had disturbed? Without thinking of the danger to which
they might be exposed, the explorers were now impelled by an irresistible
curiosity, and in a few minutes, sixteen feet lower they rejoined Top.
There the passage ended in a vast and magnificent cavern.
Top was running backwards and forwards, barking furiously. Pencroft
and Neb, waving their torches, threw the light into every crevice; and at the
same time, Harding, Gideon Spilett, and Herbert, their spears raised, were
ready for any emergency which might arise. The enormous cavern was
empty. The settlers explored it in every direction. There was nothing there,
not an animal, not a human being; and yet Top continued to bark. Neither
caresses nor threats could make him be silent.
“There must be a place somewhere, by which the waters of the lake
reached the sea,” said the engineer.
“Of course,” replied Pencroft, “and we must take care not to tumble into
a hole.”
“Go, Top, go!” cried Harding.

The dog, excited by his master’s words, ran towards the extremity of the
cavern, and there redoubled his barking.
They followed him, and by the light of the torches, perceived the mouth
of a regular well in the granite. It was by this that the water escaped; and
this time it was not an oblique and practicable passage, but a perpendicular
well, into which it was impossible to venture.
The torches were held over the opening: nothing could be seen. Harding
took a lighted branch, and threw it into the abyss. The blazing resin, whose
illuminating power increased still more by the rapidity of its fall, lighted up
the interior of the well, but yet nothing appeared. The flame then went out
with a slight hiss, which showed that it had reached the water, that is to say,
the level of the sea.
The engineer, calculating the time employed in its fall, was able to
calculate the depth of the well, which was found to be about ninety feet.
The floor of the cavern must thus be situated ninety feet above the level
of the sea.
“Here is our dwelling,” said Cyrus Harding.
“But it was occupied by some creature,” replied Gideon Spilett, whose
curiosity was not yet satisfied.
“Well, the creature, amphibious or otherwise, has made off through this
opening,” replied the engineer, “and has left the place for us.”
“Never mind,” added the sailor, “I should like very much to be Top just
for a quarter of an hour, for he doesn’t bark for nothing!”
Cyrus Harding looked at his dog, and those of his companions who were
near him might have heard him murmur these words,—
“Yes, I believe that Top knows more than we do about a great many
things.”
However, the wishes of the settlers were for the most part satisfied.
Chance, aided by the marvelous sagacity of their leader, had done them
great service. They had now at their disposal a vast cavern, the size of
which could not be properly calculated by the feeble light of their torches,
but it would certainly be easy to divide it into rooms, by means of brick
partitions, or to use it, if not as a house, at least as a spacious apartment.
The water which had left it could not return. The place was free.

Two difficulties remained; firstly, the possibility of lighting this
excavation in the midst of solid rock; secondly, the necessity of rendering
the means of access more easy. It was useless to think of lighting it from
above, because of the enormous thickness of the granite which composed
the ceiling; but perhaps the outer wall next the sea might be pierced. Cyrus
Harding, during the descent, had roughly calculated its obliqueness, and
consequently the length of the passage, and was therefore led to believe that
the outer wall could not be very thick. If light was thus obtained, so would a
means of access, for it would be as easy to pierce a door as windows, and to
establish an exterior ladder.
Harding made known his ideas to his companions.
“Then, captain, let us set to work!” replied Pencroft. “I have my pickaxe,
and I shall soon make my way through this wall. Where shall I strike?”
“Here,” replied the engineer, showing the sturdy sailor a considerable
recess in the side, which would much diminish the thickness.
Pencroft attacked the granite, and for half an hour, by the light of the
torches, he made the splinters fly around him. Neb relieved him, then
Spilett took Neb’s place.
This work had lasted two hours, and they began to fear that at this spot
the wall would not yield to the pickaxe, when at a last blow given by
Gideon Spilett, the instrument, passing through the rock, fell outside.
“Hurrah! hurrah!” cried Pencroft.
The wall only measured there three feet in thickness.
Harding applied his eye to the aperture, which overlooked the ground
from a height of eighty feet. Before him was extended the sea-coast, the
islet, and beyond the open sea.
Floods of light entered by this hole, inundating the splendid cavern and
producing a magic effect! On its left side it did not measure more than thirty
feet in height and breadth, but on the right it was enormous, and its vaulted
roof rose to a height of more than eighty feet.
In some places granite pillars, irregularly disposed, supported the vaulted
roof, as those in the nave of a cathedral, here forming lateral piers, there
elliptical arches, adorned with pointed moldings, losing themselves in dark
bays, amid the fantastic arches of which glimpses could be caught in the
shade, covered with a profusion of projections formed like so many

pendants. This cavern was a picturesque mixture of all the styles of
Byzantine, Roman, or Gothic architecture ever produced by the hand of
man. And yet this was only the work of nature. She alone had hollowed this
fairy Alhambra in a mass of granite.
The settlers were overwhelmed with admiration. Where they had only
expected to find a narrow cavity, they had found a sort of marvelous palace,
and Neb had taken off his hat, as if he had been transported into a temple!
Cries of admiration issued from every mouth. Hurrahs resounded, and the
echo was repeated again and again till it died away in the dark naves.
“Ah, my friends!” exclaimed Cyrus Harding, “when we have lighted the
interior of this place, and have arranged our rooms and storehouses in the
left part, we shall still have this splendid cavern, which we will make our
study and our museum!”
“And we will call it?—” asked Herbert.
“Granite House,” replied Harding; a name which his companions again
saluted with a cheer.
The torches were now almost consumed, and as they were obliged to
return by the passage to reach the summit of the plateau, it was decided to
put off the work necessary for the arrangement of their new dwelling till the
next day.
Before departing, Cyrus Harding leaned once more over the dark well,
which descended perpendicularly to the level of the sea. He listened
attentively. No noise was heard, not even that of the water, which the
undulations of the surge must sometimes agitate in its depths. A flaming
branch was again thrown in. The sides of the well were lighted up for an
instant, but as at the first time, nothing suspicious was seen.
If some marine monster had been surprised unawares by the retreat of the
water, he would by this time have regained the sea by the subterranean
passage, before the new opening had been offered to him.
Meanwhile, the engineer was standing motionless, his eyes fixed on the
gulf, without uttering a word.
The sailor approached him, and touching his arm, “Captain!” said he.
“What do you want, my friend?” asked the engineer, as if he had returned
from the land of dreams.

“The torches will soon go out.”
“Forward!” replied Cyrus Harding.
The little band left the cavern and began to ascend through the dark
passage. Top closed the rear, still growling every now and then. The ascent
was painful enough. The settlers rested a few minutes in the upper grotto,
which made a sort of landing-place halfway up the long granite staircase.
Then they began to climb again.
Soon fresher air was felt. The drops of water, dried by evaporation, no
longer sparkled on the walls. The flaring torches began to grow dim. The
one which Neb carried went out, and if they did not wish to find their way
in the dark, they must hasten.
This was done, and a little before four o’clock, at the moment when the
sailor’s torch went out in its turn, Cyrus Harding and his companions
passed out of the passage.

Chapter 19
The next day, the 22nd of May, the arrangement of their new dwelling
was commenced. In fact, the settlers longed to exchange the insufficient
shelter of the Chimneys for this large and healthy retreat, in the midst of
solid rock, and sheltered from the water both of the sea and sky. Their
former dwelling was not, however, to be entirely abandoned, for the
engineer intended to make a manufactory of it for important works. Cyrus
Harding’s first care was to find out the position of the front of Granite
House from the outside. He went to the beach, and as the pickaxe when it
escaped from the hands of the reporter must have fallen perpendicularly to
the foot of the cliff, the finding it would be sufficient to show the place
where the hole had been pierced in the granite.
The pickaxe was easily found, and the hole could be seen in a
perpendicular line above the spot where it was stuck in the sand. Some rock
pigeons were already flying in and out of the narrow opening; they
evidently thought that Granite House had been discovered on purpose for
them. It was the engineer’s intention to divide the right portion of the
cavern into several rooms, preceded by an entrance passage, and to light it
by means of five windows and a door, pierced in the front. Pencroft was
much pleased with the five windows, but he could not understand the use of
the door, since the passage offered a natural staircase, through which it
would always be easy to enter Granite House.
“My friend,” replied Harding, “if it is easy for us to reach our dwelling
by this passage, it will be equally easy for others besides us. I mean, on the
contrary, to block up that opening, to seal it hermetically, and, if it is
necessary, to completely hide the entrance by making a dam, and thus
causing the water of the lake to rise.”
“And how shall we get in?” asked the sailor.
“By an outside ladder,” replied Cyrus Harding, “a rope ladder, which,
once drawn up, will render access to our dwelling impossible.”
“But why so many precautions?” asked Pencroft. “As yet we have seen
no dangerous animals. As to our island being inhabited by natives, I don’t

believe it!”
“Are you quite sure of that, Pencroft?” asked the engineer, looking at the
sailor.
“Of course we shall not be quite sure, till we have explored it in every
direction,” replied Pencroft.
“Yes,” said Harding, “for we know only a small portion of it as yet. But
at any rate, if we have no enemies in the interior, they may come from the
exterior, for parts of the Pacific are very dangerous. We must be provided
against every contingency.”
Cyrus Harding spoke wisely; and without making any further objection,
Pencroft prepared to execute his orders.
The front of Granite House was then to be lighted by five windows and a
door, besides a large bay window and some smaller oval ones, which would
admit plenty of light to enter into the marvelous nave which was to be their
chief room. This facade, situated at a height of eighty feet above the ground,
was exposed to the east, and the rising sun saluted it with its first rays. It
was found to be just at that part of the cliff which was between the
projection at the mouth of the Mercy and a perpendicular line traced above
the heap of rocks which formed the Chimneys. Thus the winds from the
northeast would only strike it obliquely, for it was protected by the
projection. Besides, until the window-frames were made, the engineer
meant to close the openings with thick shutters, which would prevent either
wind or rain from entering, and which could be concealed in need.
The first work was to make the openings. This would have taken too long
with the pickaxe alone, and it is known that Harding was an ingenious man.
He had still a quantity of nitro-glycerine at his disposal, and he employed it
usefully. By means of this explosive substance the rock was broken open at
the very places chosen by the engineer. Then, with the pickaxe and spade,
the windows and doors were properly shaped, the jagged edges were
smoothed off, and a few days after the beginning of the work, Granite
House was abundantly lighted by the rising sun, whose rays penetrated into
its most secret recesses. Following the plan proposed by Cyrus Harding, the
space was to be divided into five compartments looking out on the sea; to
the right, an entry with a door, which would meet the ladder; then a kitchen,
thirty feet long; a dining-room, measuring forty feet; a sleeping-room, of
equal size; and lastly, a “Visitor’s room,” petitioned for by Pencroft, and

which was next to the great hall. These rooms, or rather this suite of rooms,
would not occupy all the depth of the cave. There would be also a corridor
and a storehouse, in which their tools, provisions, and stores would be kept.
All the productions of the island, the flora as well as the fauna, were to be
there in the best possible state of preservation, and completely sheltered
from the damp. There was no want of space, so that each object could be
methodically arranged. Besides, the colonists had still at their disposal the
little grotto above the great cavern, which was like the garret of the new
dwelling.
This plan settled, it had only to be put into execution. The miners became
brickmakers again, then the bricks were brought to the foot of Granite
House. Till then, Harding and his companions had only entered the cavern
by the long passage. This mode of communication obliged them first to
climb Prospect Heights, making a detour by the river’s bank, and then to
descend two hundred feet through the passage, having to climb as far when
they wished to return to the plateau. This was a great loss of time, and was
also very fatiguing. Cyrus Harding, therefore, resolved to proceed without
any further delay to the fabrication of a strong rope ladder, which, once
raised, would render Granite House completely inaccessible.
This ladder was manufactured with extreme care, and its uprights,
formed of the twisted fibers of a species of cane, had the strength of a thick
cable. As to the rounds, they were made of a sort of red cedar, with light,
strong branches; and this apparatus was wrought by the masterly hand of
Pencroft.
Other ropes were made with vegetable fibers, and a sort of crane with a
tackle was fixed at the door. In this way bricks could easily be raised into
Granite House. The transport of the materials being thus simplified, the
arrangement of the interior could begin immediately. There was no want of
lime, and some thousands of bricks were there ready to be used. The
framework of the partitions was soon raised, very roughly at first, and in a
short time, the cave was divided into rooms and storehouses, according to
the plan agreed upon.
These different works progressed rapidly under the direction of the
engineer, who himself handled the hammer and the trowel. No labor came
amiss to Cyrus Harding, who thus set an example to his intelligent and
zealous companions. They worked with confidence, even gaily, Pencroft

always having some joke to crack, sometimes carpenter, sometimes rope-
maker, sometimes mason, while he communicated his good humor to all the
members of their little world. His faith in the engineer was complete;
nothing could disturb it. He believed him capable of undertaking anything
and succeeding in everything. The question of boots and clothes—assuredly
a serious question,—that of light during the winter months, utilizing the
fertile parts of the island, transforming the wild flora into cultivated flora, it
all appeared easy to him; Cyrus Harding helping, everything would be done
in time. He dreamed of canals facilitating the transport of the riches of the
ground; workings of quarries and mines; machines for every industrial
manufacture; railroads; yes, railroads! of which a network would certainly
one day cover Lincoln Island.
The engineer let Pencroft talk. He did not put down the aspirations of this
brave heart. He knew how communicable confidence is; he even smiled to
hear him speak, and said nothing of the uneasiness for the future which he
felt. In fact, in that part of the Pacific, out of the course of vessels, it was to
be feared that no help would ever come to them. It was on themselves, on
themselves alone, that the settlers must depend, for the distance of Lincoln
Island from all other land was such, that to hazard themselves in a boat, of a
necessarily inferior construction, would be a serious and perilous thing.
“But,” as the sailor said, “they quite took the wind out of the sails of the
Robinsons, for whom everything was done by a miracle.”
In fact, they were energetic; an energetic man will succeed where an
indolent one would vegetate and inevitably perish.
Herbert distinguished himself in these works. He was intelligent and
active; understanding quickly, he performed well; and Cyrus Harding
became more and more attached to the boy. Herbert had a lively and
reverent love for the engineer. Pencroft saw the close sympathy which
existed between the two, but he was not in the least jealous. Neb was Neb:
he was what he would be always, courage, zeal, devotion, self-denial
personified. He had the same faith in his master that Pencroft had, but he
showed it less vehemently. When the sailor was enthusiastic, Neb always
looked as if he would say, “Nothing could be more natural.” Pencroft and
he were great friends.
As to Gideon Spilett, he took part in the common work, and was not less
skilful in it than his companions, which always rather astonished the sailor.

A “journalist,” clever, not only in understanding, but in performing
everything.
The ladder was finally fixed on the 28th of May. There were not less than
a hundred rounds in this perpendicular height of eighty feet. Harding had
been able, fortunately, to divide it in two parts, profiting by an overhanging
of the cliff which made a projection forty feet above the ground. This
projection, carefully leveled by the pickaxe, made a sort of platform, to
which they fixed the first ladder, of which the oscillation was thus
diminished one-half, and a rope permitted it to be raised to the level of
Granite House. As to the second ladder, it was secured both at its lower part,
which rested on the projection, and at its upper end, which was fastened to
the door. In short the ascent had been made much easier. Besides, Cyrus
Harding hoped later to establish an hydraulic apparatus, which would avoid
all fatigue and loss of time, for the inhabitants of Granite House.
The settlers soon became habituated to the use of this ladder. They were
light and active, and Pencroft, as a sailor, accustomed to run up the masts
and shrouds, was able to give them lessons. But it was also necessary to
give them to Top. The poor dog, with his four paws, was not formed for this
sort of exercise. But Pencroft was such a zealous master, that Top ended by
properly performing his ascents, and soon mounted the ladder as readily as
his brethren in the circus. It need not be said that the sailor was proud of his
pupil. However, more than once Pencroft hoisted him on his back, which
Top never complained of.
It must be mentioned here, that during these works, which were actively
conducted, for the bad season was approaching, the alimentary question
was not neglected. Every day, the reporter and Herbert, who had been voted
purveyors to the colony, devoted some hours to the chase. As yet, they only
hunted in Jacamar Wood, on the left of the river, because, for want of a
bridge or boat, the Mercy had not yet been crossed. All the immense woods,
to which the name of the Forests of the Far West had been given, were not
explored. They reserved this important excursion for the first fine days of
the next spring. But Jacamar Wood was full of game; kangaroos and boars
abounded, and the hunters’ iron-tipped spears and bows and arrows did
wonders. Besides, Herbert discovered towards the southwest point of the
lagoon a natural warren, a slightly damp meadow, covered with willows and
aromatic herbs which scented the air, such as thyme, basil, savory, all the

sweet-scented species of the labiated plants, which the rabbits appeared to
be particularly fond of.
On the reporter observing that since the table was spread for the rabbits,
it was strange that the rabbits themselves should be wanting, the two
sportsmen carefully explored the warren. At any rate, it produced an
abundance of useful plants, and a naturalist would have had a good
opportunity of studying many specimens of the vegetable kingdom. Herbert
gathered several shoots of the basil, rosemary, balm, betony, etc., which
possess different medicinal properties, some pectoral, astringent, febrifuge,
others anti-spasmodic, or anti-rheumatic. When, afterwards, Pencroft asked
the use of this collection of herbs,—
“For medicine,” replied the lad, “to treat us when we are ill.”
“Why should we be ill, since there are no doctors in the island?” asked
Pencroft quite seriously.
There was no reply to be made to that, but the lad went on with his
collection all the same, and it was well received at Granite House. Besides
these medicinal herbs, he added a plant known in North America as
“Oswego tea,” which made an excellent beverage.
At last, by searching thoroughly, the hunters arrived at the real site of the
warren. There the ground was perforated like a sieve.
“Here are the burrows!” cried Herbert.
“Yes,” replied the reporter, “so I see.”
“But are they inhabited?”
“That is the question.”
This was soon answered. Almost immediately, hundreds of little animals,
similar to rabbits, fled in every direction, with such rapidity that even Top
could not overtake them. Hunters and dog ran in vain; these rodents escaped
them easily. But the reporter resolved not to leave the place, until he had
captured at least half-a-dozen of the quadrupeds. He wished to stock their
larder first, and domesticate those which they might take later. It would not
have been difficult to do this, with a few snares stretched at the openings of
the burrows. But at this moment they had neither snares, nor anything to
make them of. They must, therefore, be satisfied with visiting each hole,
and rummaging in it with a stick, hoping by dint of patience to do what
could not be done in any other way.

At last, after half an hour, four rodents were taken in their holes. They
were similar to their European brethren, and are commonly known by the
name of American rabbits.
This produce of the chase was brought back to Granite House, and
figured at the evening repast. The tenants of the warren were not at all to be
despised, for they were delicious. It was a valuable resource of the colony,
and it appeared to be inexhaustible.
On the 31st of May the partitions were finished. The rooms had now only
to be furnished, and this would be work for the long winter days. A chimney
was established in the first room, which served as a kitchen. The pipe
destined to conduct the smoke outside gave some trouble to these amateur
bricklayers. It appeared simplest to Harding to make it of brick clay; as
creating an outlet for it to the upper plateau was not to be thought of, a hole
was pierced in the granite above the window of the kitchen, and the pipe
met it like that of an iron stove. Perhaps the winds which blew directly
against the facade would make the chimney smoke, but these winds were
rare, and besides, Master Neb, the cook, was not so very particular about
that.
When these interior arrangements were finished, the engineer occupied
himself in blocking up the outlet by the lake, so as to prevent any access by
that way. Masses of rock were rolled to the entrance and strongly cemented
together. Cyrus Harding did not yet realize his plan of drowning this
opening under the waters of the lake, by restoring them to their former level
by means of a dam. He contented himself with hiding the obstruction with
grass and shrubs, which were planted in the interstices of the rocks, and
which next spring would sprout thickly. However, he used the waterfall so
as to lead a small stream of fresh water to the new dwelling. A little trench,
made below their level, produced this result; and this derivation from a pure
and inexhaustible source yielded twenty-five or thirty gallons a day. There
would never be any want of water at Granite House. At last all was finished,
and it was time, for the bad season was near. Thick shutters closed the
windows of the facade, until the engineer had time to make glass.
Gideon Spilett had very artistically arranged on the rocky projections
around the windows plants of different kinds, as well as long streaming
grass, so that the openings were picturesquely framed in green, which had a
pleasing effect.

The inhabitants of this solid, healthy, and secure dwelling, could not but
be charmed with their work. The view from the windows extended over a
boundless horizon, which was closed by the two Mandible Capes on the
north, and Claw Cape on the south. All Union Bay was spread before them.
Yes, our brave settlers had reason to be satisfied, and Pencroft was lavish in
his praise of what he humorously called, “his apartments on the fifth floor
above the ground!”

Chapter 20
The winter season set in with the month of June, which corresponds with
the month of December in the Northern Hemisphere. It began with showers
and squalls, which succeeded each other without intermission. The tenants
of Granite House could appreciate the advantages of a dwelling which
sheltered them from the inclement weather. The Chimneys would have been
quite insufficient to protect them against the rigor of winter, and it was to be
feared that the high tides would make another irruption. Cyrus Harding had
taken precautions against this contingency, so as to preserve as much as
possible the forge and furnace which were established there.
During the whole of the month of June the time was employed in
different occupations, which excluded neither hunting nor fishing, the larder
being, therefore, abundantly supplied. Pencroft, so soon as he had leisure,
proposed to set some traps, from which he expected great results. He soon
made some snares with creepers, by the aid of which the warren henceforth
every day furnished its quota of rodents. Neb employed nearly all his time
in salting or smoking meat, which insured their always having plenty of
provisions. The question of clothes was now seriously discussed, the settlers
having no other garments than those they wore when the balloon threw
them on the island. These clothes were warm and good; they had taken
great care of them as well as of their linen, and they were perfectly whole,
but they would soon need to be replaced. Moreover, if the winter was
severe, the settlers would suffer greatly from cold.
On this subject the ingenuity of Harding was at fault. They must provide
for their most pressing wants, settle their dwelling, and lay in a store of
food; thus the cold might come upon them before the question of clothes
had been settled. They must therefore make up their minds to pass this first
winter without additional clothing. When the fine season came round again,
they would regularly hunt those musmons which had been seen on the
expedition to Mount Franklin, and the wool once collected, the engineer
would know how to make it into strong warm stuff.... How? He would
consider.

“Well, we are free to roast ourselves at Granite House!” said Pencroft.
“There are heaps of fuel, and no reason for sparing it.”
“Besides,” added Gideon Spilett, “Lincoln Island is not situated under a
very high latitude, and probably the winters here are not severe. Did you not
say, Cyrus, that this thirty-fifth parallel corresponded to that of Spain in the
other hemisphere?”
“Doubtless,” replied the engineer, “but some winters in Spain are very
cold! No want of snow and ice; and perhaps Lincoln Island is just as
rigorously tried. However, it is an island, and as such, I hope that the
temperature will be more moderate.”
“Why, captain?” asked Herbert.
“Because the sea, my boy, may be considered as an immense reservoir, in
which is stored the heat of the summer. When winter comes, it restores this
heat, which insures for the regions near the ocean a medium temperature,
less high in summer, but less low in winter.”
“We shall prove that,” replied Pencroft. “But I don’t want to bother
myself about whether it will be cold or not. One thing is certain, that is that
the days are already short, and the evenings long. Suppose we talk about the
question of light.”
“Nothing is easier,” replied Harding.
“To talk about?” asked the sailor.
“To settle.”
“And when shall we begin?”
“To-morrow, by having a seal hunt.”
“To make candles?”
“Yes.”
Such was the engineer’s project; and it was quite feasible, since he had
lime and sulphuric acid, while the amphibians of the islet would furnish the
fat necessary for the manufacture.
They were now at the 4th of June. It was Whit Sunday and they agreed to
observe this feast. All work was suspended, and prayers were offered to
Heaven. But these prayers were now thanksgivings. The settlers in Lincoln
Island were no longer the miserable castaways thrown on the islet. They
asked for nothing more—they gave thanks. The next day, the 5th of June, in

rather uncertain weather, they set out for the islet. They had to profit by the
low tide to cross the Channel, and it was agreed that they would construct,
for this purpose, as well as they could, a boat which would render
communication so much easier, and would also permit them to ascend the
Mercy, at the time of their grand exploration of the southwest of the island,
which was put off till the first fine days.
The seals were numerous, and the hunters, armed with their iron-tipped
spears, easily killed half-a-dozen. Neb and Pencroft skinned them, and only
brought back to Granite House their fat and skin, this skin being intended
for the manufacture of boots.
The result of the hunt was this: nearly three hundred pounds of fat, all to
be employed in the fabrication of candles.
The operation was extremely simple, and if it did not yield absolutely
perfect results, they were at least very useful. Cyrus Harding would only
have had at his disposal sulphuric acid, but by heating this acid with the
neutral fatty bodies he could separate the glycerine; then from this new
combination, he easily separated the olein, the margarin, and the stearin, by
employing boiling water. But to simplify the operation, he preferred to
saponify the fat by means of lime. By this he obtained a calcareous soap,
easy to decompose by sulphuric acid, which precipitated the lime into the
state of sulphate, and liberated the fatty acids.
From these three acids-oleic, margaric, and stearic-the first, being liquid,
was driven out by a sufficient pressure. As to the two others, they formed
the very substance of which the candles were to be molded.
This operation did not last more than four and twenty hours. The wicks,
after several trials, were made of vegetable fibers, and dipped in the
liquefied substance, they formed regular stearic candles, molded by the
hand, which only wanted whiteness and polish. They would not doubtless
have the advantages of the wicks which are impregnated with boracic acid,
and which vitrify as they burn and are entirely consumed, but Cyrus
Harding having manufactured a beautiful pair of snuffers, these candles
would be greatly appreciated during the long evenings in Granite House.
During this month there was no want of work in the interior of their new
dwelling. The joiners had plenty to do. They improved their tools, which
were very rough, and added others also.

Scissors were made among other things, and the settlers were at last able
to cut their hair, and also to shave, or at least trim their beards. Herbert had
none, Neb but little, but their companions were bristling in a way which
justified the making of the said scissors.
The manufacture of a hand-saw cost infinite trouble, but at last an
instrument was obtained which, when vigorously handled, could divide the
ligneous fibers of the wood. They then made tables, seats, cupboards, to
furnish the principal rooms, and bedsteads, of which all the bedding
consisted of grass mattresses. The kitchen, with its shelves, on which rested
the cooking utensils, its brick stove, looked very well, and Neb worked
away there as earnestly as if he was in a chemist’s laboratory.
But the joiners had soon to be replaced by carpenters. In fact, the
waterfall created by the explosion rendered the construction of two bridges
necessary, one on Prospect Heights, the other on the shore. Now the plateau
and the shore were transversely divided by a watercourse, which had to be
crossed to reach the northern part of the island. To avoid it the colonists had
been obliged to make a considerable detour, by climbing up to the source of
the Red Creek. The simplest thing was to establish on the plateau, and on
the shore, two bridges from twenty to five and twenty feet in length. All the
carpenter’s work that was needed was to clear some trees of their branches:
this was a business of some days. Directly the bridges were established,
Neb and Pencroft profited by them to go to the oyster-bed which had been
discovered near the downs. They dragged with them a sort of rough cart,
which replaced the former inconvenient hurdle, and brought back some
thousands of oysters, which soon increased among the rocks and formed a
bed at the mouth of the Mercy. These molluscs were of excellent quality,
and the colonists consumed some daily.
It has been seen that Lincoln Island, although its inhabitants had as yet
only explored a small portion of it, already contributed to almost all their
wants. It was probable that if they hunted into its most secret recesses, in all
the wooded part between the Mercy and Reptile Point, they would find new
treasures.
The settlers in Lincoln Island had still one privation. There was no want
of meat, nor of vegetable products; those ligneous roots which they had
found, when subjected to fermentation, gave them an acid drink, which was
preferable to cold water; they also made sugar, without canes or beet-roots,

by collecting the liquor which distils from the “acer saceharinum,” a sort of
maple-tree, which flourishes in all the temperate zones, and of which the
island possessed a great number; they made a very agreeable tea by
employing the herbs brought from the warren; lastly, they had an abundance
of salt, the only mineral which is used in food... but bread was wanting.
Perhaps in time the settlers could replace this want by some equivalent, it
was possible that they might find the sago or the breadfruit tree among the
forests of the south, but they had not as yet met with these precious trees.
However, Providence came directly to their aid, in an infinitesimal
proportion it is true, but Cyrus Harding, with all his intelligence, all his
ingenuity, would never have been able to produce that which, by the
greatest chance, Herbert one day found in the lining of his waistcoat, which
he was occupied in setting to rights.
On this day, as it was raining in torrents, the settlers were assembled in
the great hall in Granite House, when the lad cried out all at once,—
“Look here, captain—A grain of corn!”
And he showed his companions a grain—a single grain—which from a
hole in his pocket had got into the lining of his waistcoat.
The presence of this grain was explained by the fact that Herbert, when at
Richmond, used to feed some pigeons, of which Pencroft had made him a
present.
“A grain of corn?” said the engineer quickly.
“Yes, captain; but one, only one!”
“Well, my boy,” said Pencroft, laughing, “we’re getting on capitally,
upon my word! What shall we make with one grain of corn?”
“We will make bread of it,” replied Cyrus Harding.
“Bread, cakes, tarts!” replied the sailor. “Come, the bread that this grain
of corn will make won’t choke us very soon!”
Herbert, not attaching much importance to his discovery, was going to
throw away the grain in question; but Harding took it, examined it, found
that it was in good condition, and looking the sailor full in the face
—“Pencroft,” he asked quietly, “do you know how many ears one grain of
corn can produce?”
“One, I suppose!” replied the sailor, surprised at the question.

“Ten, Pencroft! And do you know how many grains one ear bears?”
“No, upon my word.”
“About eighty!” said Cyrus Harding. “Then, if we plant this grain, at the
first crop we shall reap eight hundred grains which at the second will
produce six hundred and forty thousand; at the third, five hundred and
twelve millions; at the fourth, more than four hundred thousands of
millions! There is the proportion.”
Harding’s companions listened without answering. These numbers
astonished them. They were exact, however.
“Yes, my friends,” continued the engineer, “such are the arithmetical
progressions of prolific nature; and yet what is this multiplication of the
grain of corn, of which the ear only bears eight hundred grains, compared to
the poppy-plant, which bears thirty-two thousand seeds; to the tobacco-
plant, which produces three hundred and sixty thousand? In a few years,
without the numerous causes of destruction, which arrests their fecundity,
these plants would overrun the earth.”
But the engineer had not finished his lecture.
“And now, Pencroft,” he continued, “do you know how many bushels
four hundred thousand millions of grains would make?”
“No,” replied the sailor; “but what I do know is, that I am nothing better
than a fool!”
“Well, they would make more than three millions, at a hundred and thirty
thousand a bushel, Pencroft.”
“Three millions!” cried Pencroft.
“Three millions.”
“In four years?”
“In four years,” replied Cyrus Harding, “and even in two years, if, as I
hope, in this latitude we can obtain two crops a year.”
At that, according to his usual custom, Pencroft could not reply otherwise
than by a tremendous hurrah.
“So, Herbert,” added the engineer, “you have made a discovery of great
importance to us. Everything, my friends, everything can serve us in the
condition in which we are. Do not forget that, I beg of you.”

“No, captain, no, we shan’t forget it,” replied Pencroft; “and if ever I find
one of those tobacco-seeds, which multiply by three hundred and sixty
thousand, I assure you I won’t throw it away! And now, what must we do?”
“We must plant this grain,” replied Herbert.
“Yes,” added Gideon Spilett, “and with every possible care, for it bears in
itself our future harvests.”
“Provided it grows!” cried the sailor.
“It will grow,” replied Cyrus Harding.
This was the 20th of June. The time was then propitious for sowing this
single precious grain of corn. It was first proposed to plant it in a pot, but
upon reflection it was decided to leave it to nature, and confide it to the
earth. This was done that very day, and it is needless to add, that every
precaution was taken that the experiment might succeed.
The weather having cleared, the settlers climbed the height above Granite
House. There, on the plateau, they chose a spot, well sheltered from the
wind, and exposed to all the heat of the midday sun. The place was cleared,
carefully weeded, and searched for insects and worms; then a bed of good
earth, improved with a little lime, was made; it was surrounded by a railing;
and the grain was buried in the damp earth.
Did it not seem as if the settlers were laying the first stone of some
edifice? It recalled to Pencroft the day on which he lighted his only match,
and all the anxiety of the operation. But this time the thing was more
serious. In fact, the castaways would have been always able to procure fire,
in some mode or other, but no human power could supply another grain of
corn, if unfortunately this should be lost!

Chapter 21
From this time Pencroft did not let a single day pass without going to
visit what he gravely called his “corn-field.” And woe to the insects which
dared to venture there! No mercy was shown them.
Towards the end of the month of June, after incessant rain, the weather
became decidedly colder, and on the 29th a Fahrenheit thermometer would
certainly have announced only twenty degrees above zero, that is
considerably below the freezing-point. The next day, the 30th of June, the
day which corresponds to the 31st of December in the northern year, was a
Friday. Neb remarked that the year finished on a bad day, but Pencroft
replied that naturally the next would begin on a good one, which was better.
At any rate it commenced by very severe cold. Ice accumulated at the
mouth of the Mercy, and it was not long before the whole expanse of the
lake was frozen.
The settlers had frequently been obliged to renew their store of wood.
Pencroft also had wisely not waited till the river was frozen, but had
brought enormous rafts of wood to their destination. The current was an
indefatigable moving power, and it was employed in conveying the floating
wood to the moment when the frost enchained it. To the fuel which was so
abundantly supplied by the forest, they added several cartloads of coal,
which had to be brought from the foot of the spurs of Mount Franklin. The
powerful heat of the coal was greatly appreciated in the low temperature,
which on the 4th of July fell to eight degrees of Fahrenheit, that is, thirteen
degrees below zero. A second fireplace had been established in the dining-
room, where they all worked together at their different avocations. During
this period of cold, Cyrus Harding had great cause to congratulate himself
on having brought to Granite House the little stream of water from Lake
Grant. Taken below the frozen surface, and conducted through the passage,
it preserved its fluidity, and arrived at an interior reservoir which had been
hollowed out at the back part of the storeroom, while the overflow ran
through the well to the sea.

About this time, the weather being extremely dry, the colonists, clothed
as warmly as possible, resolved to devote a day to the exploration of that
part of the island between the Mercy and Claw Cape. It was a wide extent
of marshy land, and they would probably find good sport, for water-birds
ought to swarm there.
They reckoned that it would be about eight or nine miles to go there, and
as much to return, so that the whole of the day would be occupied. As an
unknown part of the island was about to be explored, the whole colony took
part in the expedition. Accordingly, on the 5th of July, at six o’clock in the
morning, when day had scarcely broken, Cyrus Harding, Gideon Spilett,
Herbert, Neb, and Pencroft, armed with spears, snares, bows and arrows,
and provided with provisions, left Granite House, preceded by Top, who
bounded before them.
Their shortest way was to cross the Mercy on the ice, which then covered
it.
“But,” as the engineer justly observed, “that could not take the place of a
regular bridge!” So, the construction of a regular bridge was noted in the
list of future works.
It was the first time that the settlers had set foot on the right bank of the
Mercy, and ventured into the midst of those gigantic and superb coniferae
now sprinkled over with snow.
But they had not gone half a mile when from a thicket a whole family of
quadrupeds, who had made a home there, disturbed by Top, rushed forth
into the open country.
“Ah! I should say those are foxes!” cried Herbert, when he saw the troop
rapidly decamping.
They were foxes, but of a very large size, who uttered a sort of barking,
at which Top seemed to be very much astonished, for he stopped short in
the chase, and gave the swift animals time to disappear.
The dog had reason to be surprised, as he did not know Natural History.
But, by their barking, these foxes, with reddish-gray hair, black tails
terminating in a white tuft, had betrayed their origin. So Herbert was able,
without hesitating, to give them their real name of “Arctic foxes.” They are
frequently met with in Chile, in the Falkland Islands, and in all parts of

America traversed by the thirtieth and fortieth parallels. Herbert much
regretted that Top had not been able to catch one of these carnivora.
“Are they good to eat?” asked Pencroft, who only regarded the
representatives of the fauna in the island from one special point of view.
“No,” replied Herbert; “but zoologists have not yet found out if the eye
of these foxes is diurnal or nocturnal, or whether it is correct to class them
in the genus dog, properly so called.”
Harding could not help smiling on hearing the lad’s reflection, which
showed a thoughtful mind. As to the sailor, from the moment when he
found that the foxes were not classed in the genus eatable, they were
nothing to him. However, when a poultry-yard was established at Granite
House, he observed that it would be best to take some precautions against a
probable visit from these four-legged plunderers, and no one disputed this.
After having turned the point, the settlers saw a long beach washed by
the open sea. It was then eight o’clock in the morning. The sky was very
clear, as it often is after prolonged cold; but warmed by their walk, neither
Harding nor his companions felt the sharpness of the atmosphere too
severely. Besides there was no wind, which made it much more bearable. A
brilliant sun, but without any calorific action, was just issuing from the
ocean. The sea was as tranquil and blue as that of a Mediterranean gulf,
when the sky is clear. Claw Cape, bent in the form of a yataghan, tapered
away nearly four miles to the southeast. To the left the edge of the marsh
was abruptly ended by a little point. Certainly, in this part of Union Bay,
which nothing sheltered from the open sea, not even a sandbank, ships
beaten by the east winds would have found no shelter. They perceived by
the tranquillity of the sea, in which no shallows troubled the waters, by its
uniform color, which was stained by no yellow shades, by the absence of
even a reef, that the coast was steep and that the ocean there covered a deep
abyss. Behind in the west, but at a distance of four miles, rose the first trees
of the forests of the Far West. They might have believed themselves to be
on the desolate coast of some island in the Antarctic regions which the ice
had invaded. The colonists halted at this place for breakfast. A fire of
brushwood and dried seaweed was lighted, and Neb prepared the breakfast
of cold meat, to which he added some cups of Oswego tea.
While eating they looked around them. This part of Lincoln Island was
very sterile, and contrasted with all the western part. The reporter was thus

led to observe that if chance had thrown them at first on the shore, they
would have had but a deplorable idea of their future domain.
“I believe that we should not have been able to reach it,” replied the
engineer, “for the sea is deep, and there is not a rock on which we could
have taken refuge. Before Granite House, at least, there were sandbanks, an
islet, which multiplied our chances of safety. Here, nothing but the depths!”
“It is singular enough,” remarked Spilett, “that this comparatively small
island should present such varied ground. This diversity of aspect, logically
only belongs to continents of a certain extent. One would really say, that the
western part of Lincoln Island, so rich and so fertile, is washed by the warm
waters of the Gulf of Mexico, and that its shores to the north and the
southeast extend over a sort of Arctic sea.”
“You are right, my dear Spilett,” replied Cyrus Harding, “I have also
observed this. I think the form and also the nature of this island strange. It is
a summary of all the aspects which a continent presents, and I should not be
surprised if it was a continent formerly.”
“What! a continent in the middle of the Pacific?” cried Pencroft.
“Why not?” replied Cyrus Harding. “Why should not Australia, New
Ireland, Australasia, united to the archipelagoes of the Pacific, have once
formed a sixth part of the world, as important as Europe or Asia, as Africa
or the two Americas? To my mind, it is quite possible that all these islands,
emerging from this vast ocean, are but the summits of a continent, now
submerged, but which was above the waters at a prehistoric period.”
“As the Atlantis was formerly,” replied Herbert.
“Yes, my boy... if, however, it existed.”
“And would Lincoln Island have been a part of that continent?” asked
Pencroft.
“It is probable,” replied Cyrus Harding, “and that would sufficiently,
explain the variety of productions which are seen on its surface.”
“And the great number of animals which still inhabit it,” added Herbert.
“Yes, my boy,” replied the engineer, “and you furnish me with an
argument to support my theory. It is certain, after what we have seen, that
animals are numerous in this island, and what is more strange, that the
species are extremely varied. There is a reason for that, and to me it is that

Lincoln Island may have formerly been a part of some vast continent which
had gradually sunk below the Pacific.”
“Then, some fine day,” said Pencroft, who did not appear to be entirely
convinced, “the rest of this ancient continent may disappear in its turn, and
there will be nothing between America and Asia.”
“Yes,” replied Harding, “there will be new continents which millions and
millions of animalculae are building at this moment.”
“And what are these masons?” asked Pencroft.
“Coral insects,” replied Cyrus Harding. “By constant work they made the
island of Clermont-Tonnerre, and numerous other coral islands in the
Pacific Ocean. Forty-seven millions of these insects are needed to weigh a
grain, and yet, with the sea-salt they absorb, the solid elements of water
which they assimilate, these animalculae produce limestone, and this
limestone forms enormous submarine erections, of which the hardness and
solidity equal granite. Formerly, at the first periods of creation, nature
employing fire, heaved up the land, but now she entrusts to these
microscopic creatures the task of replacing this agent, of which the dynamic
power in the interior of the globe has evidently diminished—which is
proved by the number of volcanoes on the surface of the earth, now actually
extinct. And I believe that centuries succeeding to centuries, and insects to
insects, this Pacific may one day be changed into a vast continent, which
new generations will inhabit and civilize in their turn.”
“That will take a long time,” said Pencroft.
“Nature has time for it,” replied the engineer.
“But what would be the use of new continents?” asked Herbert. “It
appears to me that the present extent of habitable countries is sufficient for
humanity. Yet nature does nothing uselessly.”
“Nothing uselessly, certainly,” replied the engineer, “but this is how the
necessity of new continents for the future, and exactly on the tropical zone
occupied by the coral islands, may be explained. At least to me this
explanation appears plausible.”
“We are listening, captain,” said Herbert.
“This is my idea: philosophers generally admit that some day our globe
will end, or rather that animal and vegetable life will no longer be possible,
because of the intense cold to which it will be subjected. What they are not

agreed upon, is the cause of this cold. Some think that it will arise from the
falling of the temperature, which the sun will experience after millions of
years; others, from the gradual extinction of the fires in the interior of our
globe, which have a greater influence on it than is generally supposed. I
hold to this last hypothesis, grounding it on the fact that the moon is really a
cold star, which is no longer habitable, although the sun continues to throw
on its surface the same amount of heat. If, then, the moon has become cold,
it is because the interior fires to which, as do all the stars of the stellar
world, it owes its origin, are completely extinct. Lastly, whatever may be
the cause, our globe will become cold some day, but this cold will only
operate gradually. What will happen, then? The temperate zones, at a more
or less distant period, will not be more habitable than the polar regions now
are. Then the population of men, as well as the animals, will flow towards
the latitudes which are more directly under the solar influence. An immense
emigration will take place. Europe, Central Asia, North America, will
gradually be abandoned, as well as Australasia and the lower parts of South
America. The vegetation will follow the human emigration. The flora will
retreat towards the Equator at the same time as the fauna. The central parts
of South America and Africa will be the continents chiefly inhabited. The
Laplanders and the Samoides will find the climate of the polar regions on
the shores of the Mediterranean. Who can say, that at this period, the
equatorial regions will not be too small, to contain and nourish terrestrial
humanity? Now, may not provident nature, so as to give refuge to all the
vegetable and animal emigration, be at present laying the foundation of a
new continent under the Equator, and may she not have entrusted these
insects with the construction of it? I have often thought of all these things,
my friends, and I seriously believe that the aspect of our globe will some
day be completely changed; that by the raising of new continents the sea
will cover the old, and that, in future ages, a Columbus will go to discover
the islands of Chimborazo, of the Himalayas, or of Mont Blanc, remains of
a submerged America, Asia, and Europe. Then these new continents will
become, in their turn, uninhabitable; heat will die away, as does the heat
from a body when the soul has left it; and life will disappear from the globe,
if not for ever, at least for a period. Perhaps then, our spheroid will rest—
will be left to death—to revive some day under superior conditions! But all
that, my friends, is the secret of the Author of all things; and beginning by

the work of the insects, I have perhaps let myself be carried too far, in
investigating the secrets of the future.
“My dear Cyrus,” replied Spilett, “these theories are prophecies to me,
and they will be accomplished some day.”
“That is the secret of God,” said the engineer.
“All that is well and good,” then said Pencroft, who had listened with all
his might, “but will you tell me, captain, if Lincoln Island has been made by
your insects?”
“No,” replied Harding; “it is of a purely volcanic origin.”
“Then it will disappear some day?”
“That is probable.”
“I hope we won’t be here then.”
“No, don’t be uneasy, Pencroft; we shall not be here then, as we have no
wish to die here, and hope to get away some time.”
“In the meantime,” replied Gideon Spilett, “let us establish ourselves
here as if forever. There is no use in doing things by halves.”
This ended the conversation. Breakfast was finished, the exploration was
continued, and the settlers arrived at the border of the marshy region. It was
a marsh of which the extent, to the rounded coast which terminated the
island at the southeast, was about twenty square miles. The soil was formed
of clayey flint-earth, mingled with vegetable matter, such as the remains of
rushes, reeds, grass, etc. Here and there beds of grass, thick as a carpet,
covered it. In many places icy pools sparkled in the sun. Neither rain nor
any river, increased by a sudden swelling, could supply these ponds. They
therefore naturally concluded that the marsh was fed by the infiltrations of
the soil and it was really so. It was also to be feared that during the heat
miasmas would arise, which might produce fevers.
Above the aquatic plants, on the surface of the stagnant water, fluttered
numbers of birds. Wild duck, teal, snipe lived there in flocks, and those
fearless birds allowed themselves to be easily approached.
One shot from a gun would certainly have brought down some dozen of
the birds, they were so close together. The explorers were, however, obliged
to content themselves with bows and arrows. The result was less, but the
silent arrow had the advantage of not frightening the birds, while the noise

of firearms would have dispersed them to all parts of the marsh. The hunters
were satisfied, for this time, with a dozen ducks, which had white bodies
with a band of cinnamon, a green head, wings black, white, and red, and
flattened beak. Herbert called them tadorns. Top helped in the capture of
these birds, whose name was given to this marshy part of the island. The
settlers had here an abundant reserve of aquatic game. At some future time
they meant to explore it more carefully, and it was probable that some of the
birds there might be domesticated, or at least brought to the shores of the
lake, so that they would be more within their reach.
About five o’clock in the evening Cyrus Harding and his companions
retraced their steps to their dwelling by traversing Tadorn’s Fens, and
crossed the Mercy on the ice-bridge.
At eight in the evening they all entered Granite House.

Chapter 22
This intense cold lasted till the 15th of August, without, however, passing
the degree of Fahrenheit already mentioned. When the atmosphere was
calm, the low temperature was easily borne, but when the wind blew, the
poor settlers, insufficiently clothed, felt it severely. Pencroft regretted that
Lincoln Island was not the home of a few families of bears rather than of so
many foxes and seals.
“Bears,” said he, “are generally very well dressed, and I ask no more than
to borrow for the winter the warm cloaks which they have on their backs.”
“But,” replied Neb, laughing, “perhaps the bears would not consent to
give you their cloaks, Pencroft. These beasts are not St. Martins.”
“We would make them do it, Neb, we would make them,” replied
Pencroft, in quite an authoritative tone.
But these formidable carnivora did not exist in the island, or at any rate
they had not yet shown themselves.
In the meanwhile, Herbert, Pencroft, and the reporter occupied
themselves with making traps on Prospect Heights and at the border of the
forest.
According to the sailor, any animal, whatever it was, would be a lawful
prize, and the rodents or carnivora which might get into the new snares
would be well received at Granite House.
The traps were besides extremely simple; being pits dug in the ground, a
platform of branches and grass above, which concealed the opening, and at
the bottom some bait, the scent of which would attract animals. It must be
mentioned also, that they had not been dug at random, but at certain places
where numerous footprints showed that quadrupeds frequented the ground.
They were visited every day, and at three different times, during the first
days, specimens of those Antarctic foxes which they had already seen on
the right bank of the Mercy were found in them.
“Why, there are nothing but foxes in this country!” cried Pencroft, when
for the third time he drew one of the animals out of the pit. Looking at it in
great disgust, he added, “beasts which are good for nothing!”

“Yes,” said Gideon Spilett, “they are good for something!”
“And what is that?”
“To make bait to attract other creatures!”
The reporter was right, and the traps were henceforward baited with the
foxes carcasses.
The sailor had also made snares from the long tough fibers of a certain
plant, and they were even more successful than the traps. Rarely a day
passed without some rabbits from the warren being caught. It was always
rabbit, but Neb knew how to vary his sauces and the settlers did not think of
complaining.
However, once or twice in the second week of August, the traps supplied
the hunters with other animals more useful than foxes, namely, several of
those small wild boars which had already been seen to the north of the lake.
Pencroft had no need to ask if these beasts were eatable. He could see that
by their resemblance to the pig of America and Europe.
“But these are not pigs,” said Herbert to him, “I warn you of that,
Pencroft.”
“My boy,” replied the sailor, bending over the trap and drawing out one
of these representatives of the family of sus by the little appendage which
served it as a tail. “Let me believe that these are pigs.”
“Why?”
“Because that pleases me!”
“Are you very fond of pig then, Pencroft?”
“I am very fond of pig,” replied the sailor, “particularly of its feet, and if
it had eight instead of four, I should like it twice as much!”
As to the animals in question, they were peccaries belonging to one of
the four species which are included in the family, and they were also of the
species of Tajacu, recognizable by their deep color and the absence of those
long teeth with which the mouths of their congeners are armed. These
peccaries generally live in herds, and it was probable that they abounded in
the woody parts of the island.
At any rate, they were eatable from head to foot, and Pencroft did not ask
more from them.

Towards the 15th of August, the state of the atmosphere was suddenly
moderated by the wind shifting to the northwest. The temperature rose some
degrees, and the accumulated vapor in the air was not long in resolving into
snow. All the island was covered with a sheet of white, and showed itself to
its inhabitants under a new aspect. The snow fell abundantly for several
days, and it soon reached a thickness of two feet.
The wind also blew with great violence, and at the height of Granite
House the sea could be heard thundering against the reefs. In some places,
the wind, eddying round the corners, formed the snow into tall whirling
columns, resembling those waterspouts which turn round on their base, and
which vessels attack with a shot from a gun. However, the storm, coming
from the northwest, blew across the island, and the position of Granite
House preserved it from a direct attack.
But in the midst of this snow-storm, as terrible as if it had been produced
in some polar country, neither Cyrus Harding nor his companions could,
notwithstanding their wish for it, venture forth, and they remained shut up
for five days, from the 20th to the 25th of August. They could hear the
tempest raging in Jacamar Wood, which would surely suffer from it. Many
of the trees would no doubt be torn up by the roots, but Pencroft consoled
himself by thinking that he would not have the trouble of cutting them
down.
“The wind is turning woodman, let it alone,” he repeated.
Besides, there was no way of stopping it, if they had wished to do so.
How grateful the inhabitants of Granite House then were to Heaven for
having prepared for them this solid and immovable retreat! Cyrus Harding
had also his legitimate share of thanks, but after all, it was Nature who had
hollowed out this vast cavern, and he had only discovered it. There all were
in safety, and the tempest could not reach them. If they had constructed a
house of bricks and wood on Prospect Heights, it certainly would not have
resisted the fury of this storm. As to the Chimneys, it must have been
absolutely uninhabitable, for the sea, passing over the islet, would beat
furiously against it. But here, in Granite House, in the middle of a solid
mass, over which neither the sea nor air had any influence, there was
nothing to fear.
During these days of seclusion the settlers did not remain inactive.

There was no want of wood, cut up into planks, in the storeroom, and
little by little they completed their furnishing; constructing the most solid of
tables and chairs, for material was not spared. Neb and Pencroft were very
proud of this rather heavy furniture, which they would not have changed on
any account.
Then the carpenters became basket-makers, and they did not succeed
badly in this new manufacture. At the point of the lake which projected to
the north, they had discovered an osier-bed in which grew a large number of
purple osiers. Before the rainy season, Pencroft and Herbert had cut down
these useful shrubs, and their branches, well prepared, could now be
effectively employed. The first attempts were somewhat crude, but in
consequence of the cleverness and intelligence of the workmen, by
consulting, and recalling the models which they had seen, and by emulating
each other, the possessions of the colony were soon increased by several
baskets of different sizes. The storeroom was provided with them, and in
special baskets Neb placed his collection of rhizomes, stone-pine almonds,
etc.
During the last week of the month of August the weather moderated
again. The temperature fell a little, and the tempest abated. The colonists
sallied out directly. There was certainly two feet of snow on the shore, but
they were able to walk without much difficulty on the hardened surface.
Cyrus Harding and his companions climbed Prospect Heights.
What a change! The woods, which they had left green, especially in the
part at which the firs predominated, had disappeared under a uniform color.
All was white, from the summit of Mount Franklin to the shore, the forests,
the plains, the lake, the river. The waters of the Mercy flowed under a roof
of ice, which, at each rising and ebbing of the tide, broke up with loud
crashes. Numerous birds fluttered over the frozen surface of the lake. Ducks
and snipe, teal and guillemots were assembled in thousands. The rocks
among which the cascade flowed were bristling with icicles. One might
have said that the water escaped by a monstrous gargoyle, shaped with all
the imagination of an artist of the Renaissance. As to the damage caused by
the storm in the forest, that could not as yet be ascertained; they would have
to wait till the snowy covering was dissipated.
Gideon Spilett, Pencroft, and Herbert did not miss this opportunity of
going to visit their traps. They did not find them easily, under the snow with

which they were covered. They had also to be careful not to fall into one or
other of them, which would have been both dangerous and humiliating; to
be taken in their own snares! But happily they avoided this unpleasantness,
and found their traps perfectly intact. No animal had fallen into them, and
yet the footprints in the neighborhood were very numerous, among others,
certain very clear marks of claws. Herbert did not hesitate to affirm that
some animal of the feline species had passed there, which justified the
engineer’s opinion that dangerous beasts existed in Lincoln Island. These
animals doubtless generally lived in the forests of the Far West, but pressed
by hunger, they had ventured as far as Prospect Heights. Perhaps they had
smelled out the inhabitants of Granite House. “Now, what are these feline
creatures?” asked Pencroft. “They are tigers,” replied Herbert. “I thought
those beasts were only found in hot countries?”
“On the new continent,” replied the lad, “they are found from Mexico to
the Pampas of Buenos Aires. Now, as Lincoln Island is nearly under the
same latitude as the provinces of La Plata, it is not surprising that tigers are
to be met with in it.”
“Well, we must look out for them,” replied Pencroft.
However, the snow soon disappeared, quickly dissolving under the
influence of the rising temperature. Rain fell, and the sheet of white soon
vanished. Notwithstanding the bad weather, the settlers renewed their stores
of different things, stone-pine almonds, rhizomes, syrup from the maple-
tree, for the vegetable part; rabbits from the warren, agouties, and
kangaroos for the animal part. This necessitated several excursions into the
forest, and they found that a great number of trees had been blown down by
the last hurricane. Pencroft and Neb also pushed with the cart as far as the
vein of coal, and brought back several tons of fuel. They saw in passing that
the pottery kiln had been severely damaged by the wind, at least six feet of
it having been blown off.
At the same time as the coal, the store of wood was renewed at Granite
House, and they profited by the current of the Mercy having again become
free, to float down several rafts. They could see that the cold period was not
ended.
A visit was also paid to the Chimneys, and the settlers could not but
congratulate themselves on not having been living there during the
hurricane. The sea had left unquestionable traces of its ravages. Sweeping

over the islet, it had furiously assailed the passages, half filling them with
sand, while thick beds of seaweed covered the rocks. While Neb, Herbert,
and Pencroft hunted or collected wood, Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett
busied themselves in putting the Chimneys to rights, and they found the
forge and the bellows almost unhurt, protected as they had been from the
first by the heaps of sand.
The store of fuel had not been made uselessly. The settlers had not done
with the rigorous cold. It is known that, in the Northern Hemisphere, the
month of February is principally distinguished by rapid fallings of the
temperature. It is the same in the Southern Hemisphere, and the end of the
month of August, which is the February of North America, does not escape
this climatic law.
About the 25th, after another change from snow to rain, the wind shifted
to the southeast, and the cold became, suddenly, very severe. According to
the engineer’s calculation, the mercurial column of a Fahrenheit
thermometer would not have marked less than eight degrees below zero,
and this intense cold, rendered still more painful by a sharp gale, lasted for
several days. The colonists were again shut up in Granite House, and as it
was necessary to hermetically seal all the openings of the facade, only
leaving a narrow passage for renewing the air, the consumption of candles
was considerable. To economize them, the cavern was often only lighted by
the blazing hearths, on which fuel was not spared. Several times, one or
other of the settlers descended to the beach in the midst of ice which the
waves heaped up at each tide, but they soon climbed up again to Granite
House, and it was not without pain and difficulty that their hands could hold
to the rounds of the ladder. In consequence of the intense cold, their fingers
felt as if burned when they touched the rounds. To occupy the leisure hours,
which the tenants of Granite House now had at their disposal, Cyrus
Harding undertook an operation which could be performed indoors.
We know that the settlers had no other sugar at their disposal than the
liquid substance which they drew from the maple, by making deep incisions
in the tree. They contented themselves with collecting this liquor in jars and
employing it in this state for different culinary purposes, and the more so, as
on growing old, this liquid began to become white and to be of a syrupy
consistence.

But there was something better to be made of it, and one day Cyrus
Harding announced that they were going to turn into refiners.
“Refiners!” replied Pencroft. “That is rather a warm trade, I think.”
“Very warm,” answered the engineer.
“Then it will be seasonable!” said the sailor.
This word refining need not awake in the mind thoughts of an elaborate
manufactory with apparatus and numerous workmen. No! to crystallize this
liquor, only an extremely easy operation is required. Placed on the fire in
large earthen pots, it was simply subjected to evaporation, and soon a scum
arose to its surface. As soon as this began to thicken, Neb carefully removed
it with a wooden spatula; this accelerated the evaporation, and at the same
time prevented it from contracting an empyreumatic flavor.
After boiling for several hours on a hot fire, which did as much good to
the operators as the substance operated upon, the latter was transformed
into a thick syrup. This syrup was poured into clay molds, previously
fabricated in the kitchen stove, and to which they had given various shapes.
The next day this syrup had become cold, and formed cakes and tablets.
This was sugar of rather a reddish color, but nearly transparent and of a
delicious taste.
The cold continued to the middle of September, and the prisoners in
Granite House began to find their captivity rather tedious. Nearly every day
they attempted sorties which they could not prolong. They constantly
worked at the improvement of their dwelling. They talked while working.
Harding instructed his companions in many things, principally explaining to
them the practical applications of science. The colonists had no library at
their disposal; but the engineer was a book which was always at hand,
always open at the page which one wanted, a book which answered all their
questions, and which they often consulted. The time thus passed away
pleasantly, these brave men not appearing to have any fears for the future.
However, all were anxious to see, if not the fine season, at least the
cessation of the insupportable cold. If only they had been clothed in a way
to meet it, how many excursions they would have attempted, either to the
downs or to Tadorn’s Fens! Game would have been easily approached, and
the chase would certainly have been most productive. But Cyrus Harding
considered it of importance that no one should injure his health, for he had
need of all his hands, and his advice was followed.

But it must be said, that the one who was most impatient of this
imprisonment, after Pencroft perhaps, was Top. The faithful dog found
Granite House very narrow. He ran backwards and forwards from one room
to another, showing in his way how weary he was of being shut up. Harding
often remarked that when he approached the dark well which
communicated with the sea, and of which the orifice opened at the back of
the storeroom, Top uttered singular growlings. He ran round and round this
hole, which had been covered with a wooden lid. Sometimes even he tried
to put his paws under the lid, as if he wished to raise it. He then yelped in a
peculiar way, which showed at once anger and uneasiness.
The engineer observed this maneuver several times.
What could there be in this abyss to make such an impression on the
intelligent animal? The well led to the sea, that was certain. Could narrow
passages spread from it through the foundations of the island? Did some
marine monster come from time to time, to breathe at the bottom of this
well? The engineer did not know what to think, and could not refrain from
dreaming of many strange improbabilities. Accustomed to go far into the
regions of scientific reality, he would not allow himself to be drawn into the
regions of the strange and almost of the supernatural; but yet how to explain
why Top, one of those sensible dogs who never waste their time in barking
at the moon, should persist in trying with scent and hearing to fathom this
abyss, if there was nothing there to cause his uneasiness? Top’s conduct
puzzled Cyrus Harding even more than he cared to acknowledge to himself.
At all events, the engineer only communicated his impressions to Gideon
Spilett, for he thought it useless to explain to his companions the suspicions
which arose from what perhaps was only Top’s fancy.
At last the cold ceased. There had been rain, squalls mingled with snow,
hailstorms, gusts of wind, but these inclemencies did not last. The ice
melted, the snow disappeared; the shore, the plateau, the banks of the
Mercy, the forest, again became practicable. This return of spring delighted
the tenants of Granite House, and they soon only passed in it the hours
necessary for eating and sleeping.
They hunted much in the second part of September, which led Pencroft to
again entreat for the firearms, which he asserted had been promised by
Cyrus Harding. The latter, knowing well that without special tools it would
be nearly impossible for him to manufacture a gun which would be of any

use, still drew back and put off the operation to some future time, observing
in his usual dry way, that Herbert and Spilett had become very skilful
archers, so that many sorts of excellent animals, agouties, kangaroos,
capybaras, pigeons, bustards, wild ducks, snipes, in short, game both with
fur and feathers, fell victims to their arrows, and that, consequently, they
could wait. But the obstinate sailor would listen to nothing of this, and he
would give the engineer no peace till he promised to satisfy his desire.
Gideon Spilett, however, supported Pencroft.
“If, which may be doubted,” said he, “the island is inhabited by wild
beasts, we must think how to fight with and exterminate them. A time may
come when this will be our first duty.”
But at this period, it was not the question of firearms which occupied
Harding, but that of clothes. Those which the settlers wore had passed this
winter, but they would not last until next winter. Skins of carnivora or the
wool of ruminants must be procured at any price, and since there were
plenty of musmons, it was agreed to consult on the means of forming a
flock which might be brought up for the use of the colony. An enclosure for
the domestic animals, a poultry-yard for the birds, in a word to establish a
sort of farm in the island, such were the two important projects for the fine
season.
In consequence and in view of these future establishments, it became of
much importance that they should penetrate into all the yet unknown parts
of Lincoln Island, that is to say, through that thick forest which extended on
the right bank of the Mercy, from its mouth to the extremity of the
Serpentine Peninsula, as well as on the whole of its western side. But this
needed settled weather, and a month must pass before this exploration could
be profitably undertaken.
They therefore waited with some impatience, when an incident occurred
which increased the desire the settlers had to visit the whole of their
domain.
It was the 24th of October. On this day, Pencroft had gone to visit his
traps, which he always kept properly baited. In one of them he found three
animals which would be very welcome for the larder. They were a female
peccary and her two young ones.
Pencroft then returned to Granite House, enchanted with his capture, and,
as usual, he made a great show of his game.

“Come, we shall have a grand feast, captain!” he exclaimed. “And you
too, Mr. Spilett, you will eat some!”
“I shall be very happy,” replied the reporter; “but what is it that I am
going to eat?”
“Suckling-pig.”
“Oh, indeed, suckling-pig, Pencroft? To hear you, I thought that you were
bringing back a young partridge stuffed with truffles!”
“What?” cried Pencroft. “Do you mean to say that you turn up your nose
at suckling-pig?’
“No,” replied Gideon Spilett, without showing any enthusiasm;
“provided one doesn’t eat too much.”
“That’s right, that’s right,” returned the sailor, who was not pleased
whenever he heard his chase made light of. “You like to make objections.
Seven months ago, when we landed on the island, you would have been
only too glad to have met with such game!”
“Well, well,” replied the reporter, “man is never perfect, nor contented.”
“Now,” said Pencroft, “I hope that Neb will distinguish himself. Look
here! These two little peccaries are not more than three months old! They
will be as tender as quails! Come along, Neb, come! I will look after the
cooking myself.”
And the sailor, followed by Neb, entered the kitchen, where they were
soon absorbed in their culinary labors.
They were allowed to do it in their own way. Neb, therefore, prepared a
magnificent repast—the two little peccaries, kangaroo soup, a smoked ham,
stone-pine almonds, Oswego tea; in fact, all the best that they had, but
among all the dishes figured in the first rank the savory peccaries.
At five o’clock dinner was served in the dining-room of Granite House.
The kangaroo soup was smoking on the table. They found it excellent.
To the soup succeeded the peccaries, which Pencroft insisted on carving
himself, and of which he served out monstrous portions to each of the
guests.
These suckling-pigs were really delicious, and Pencroft was devouring
his share with great gusto, when all at once a cry and an oath escaped him.
“What’s the matter?” asked Cyrus Harding.

“The matter? the matter is that I have just broken a tooth!” replied the
sailor.
“What, are there pebbles in your peccaries?” said Gideon Spilett.
“I suppose so,” replied Pencroft, drawing from his lips the object which
had cost him a grinder—!
It was not a pebble—it was a leaden bullet.

PART 2. ABANDONED

Chapter 1
It was now exactly seven months since the balloon voyagers had been
thrown on Lincoln Island. During that time, notwithstanding the researches
they had made, no human being had been discovered. No smoke even had
betrayed the presence of man on the surface of the island. No vestiges of his
handiwork showed that either at an early or at a late period had man lived
there. Not only did it now appear to be uninhabited by any but themselves,
but the colonists were compelled to believe that it never had been inhabited.
And now, all this scaffolding of reasonings fell before a simple ball of
metal, found in the body of an inoffensive rodent! In fact, this bullet must
have issued from a firearm, and who but a human being could have used
such a weapon?
When Pencroft had placed the bullet on the table, his companions looked
at it with intense astonishment. All the consequences likely to result from
this incident, notwithstanding its apparent insignificance, immediately took
possession of their minds. The sudden apparition of a supernatural being
could not have startled them more completely.
Cyrus Harding did not hesitate to give utterance to the suggestions which
this fact, at once surprising and unexpected, could not fail to raise in his
mind. He took the bullet, turned it over and over, rolled it between his
finger and thumb; then, turning to Pencroft, he asked,—
“Are you sure that the peccary wounded by this bullet was not more than
three months old?”
“Not more, captain,” replied Pencroft. “It was still sucking its mother
when I found it in the trap.”
“Well,” said the engineer, “that proves that within three months a gun-
shot was fired in Lincoln Island.”
“And that a bullet,” added Gideon Spilett, “wounded, though not
mortally, this little animal.”
“That is unquestionable,” said Cyrus Harding, “and these are the
deductions which must be drawn from this incident: that the island was
inhabited before our arrival, or that men have landed here within three

months. Did these men arrive here voluntarily or involuntarily, by
disembarking on the shore or by being wrecked? This point can only be
cleared up later. As to what they were, Europeans or Malays, enemies or
friends of our race, we cannot possibly guess; and if they still inhabit the
island, or if they have left it, we know not. But these questions are of too
much importance to be allowed to remain long unsettled.”
“No! a hundred times no! a thousand times no!” cried the sailor,
springing up from the table. “There are no other men than ourselves on
Lincoln Island! By my faith! The island isn’t large and if it had been
inhabited, we should have seen some of the inhabitants long before this!”
“In fact, the contrary would be very astonishing,” said Herbert.
“But it would be much more astonishing, I should think,” observed the
reporter, “if this peccary had been born with a bullet in its inside!”
“At least,” said Neb seriously, “if Pencroft has not had—”
“Look here, Neb,” burst out Pencroft. “Do you think I could have a bullet
in my jaw for five or six months without finding it out? Where could it be
hidden?” he asked, opening his mouth to show the two-and-thirty teeth with
which it was furnished. “Look well, Neb, and if you find one hollow tooth
in this set, I will let you pull out half a dozen!”
“Neb’s supposition is certainly inadmissible,” replied Harding, who,
notwithstanding the gravity of his thoughts, could not restrain a smile. “It is
certain that a gun has been fired in the island, within three months at most.
But I am inclined to think that the people who landed on this coast were
only here a very short time ago, or that they just touched here; for if, when
we surveyed the island from the summit of Mount Franklin, it had been
inhabited, we should have seen them or we should have been seen
ourselves. It is therefore, probable that within only a few weeks castaways
have been thrown by a storm on some part of the coast. However that may
be, it is of consequence to us to have this point settled.”
“I think that we should act with caution,” said the reporter.
“Such is my advice,” replied Cyrus Harding, “for it is to be feared that
Malay pirates have landed on the island!”
“Captain,” asked the sailor, “would it not be a good plan, before setting
out, to build a canoe in which we could either ascend the river, or, if we
liked, coast round the inland? It will not do to be unprovided.”

“Your idea is good, Pencroft,” replied the engineer, “but we cannot wait
for that. It would take at least a month to build a boat.”
“Yes, a real boat,” replied the sailor; “but we do not want one for a sea
voyage, and in five days at the most, I will undertake to construct a canoe
fit to navigate the Mercy.”
“Five days,” cried Neb, “to build a boat?”
“Yes, Neb; a boat in the Indian fashion.”
“Of wood?” asked the Negro, looking still unconvinced.
“Of wood,” replied Pencroft, “or rather of bark. I repeat, captain, that in
five days the work will be finished!”
“In five days, then, be it,” replied the engineer.
“But till that time we must be very watchful,” said Herbert.
“Very watchful indeed, my friends,” replied Harding; “and I beg you to
confine your hunting excursions to the neighborhood of Granite House.”
The dinner ended less gaily than Pencroft had hoped.
So, then, the island was, or had been, inhabited by others than the
settlers. Proved as it was by the incident of the bullet, it was hereafter an
unquestionable fact, and such a discovery could not but cause great
uneasiness among the colonists.
Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett, before sleeping, conversed long about
the matter. They asked themselves if by chance this incident might not have
some connection with the inexplicable way in which the engineer had been
saved, and the other peculiar circumstances which had struck them at
different times. However, Cyrus Harding, after having discussed the pros
and cons of the question, ended by saying,—
“In short, would you like to know my opinion, my dear Spilett?”
“Yes, Cyrus.”
“Well, then, it is this: however minutely we explore the island, we shall
find nothing.”
The next day Pencroft set to work. He did not mean to build a boat with
boards and planking, but simply a flat-bottomed canoe, which would be
well suited for navigating the Mercy—above all, for approaching its source,
where the water would naturally be shallow. Pieces of bark, fastened one to
the other, would form a light boat; and in case of natural obstacles, which

would render a portage necessary, it would be easily carried. Pencroft
intended to secure the pieces of bark by means of nails, to insure the canoe
being water-tight.
It was first necessary to select the trees which would afford a strong and
supple bark for the work. Now the last storm had brought down a number of
large birch-trees, the bark of which would be perfectly suited for their
purpose. Some of these trees lay on the ground, and they had only to be
barked, which was the most difficult thing of all, owing to the imperfect
tools which the settlers possessed. However, they overcame all difficulties.
While the sailor, seconded by the engineer, thus occupied himself without
losing an hour, Gideon Spilett and Herbert were not idle.
They were made purveyors to the colony. The reporter could not but
admire the boy, who had acquired great skill in handling the bow and spear.
Herbert also showed great courage and much of that presence of mind
which may justly be called “the reasoning of bravery.” These two
companions of the chase, remembering Cyrus Harding’s recommendations,
did not go beyond a radius of two miles round Granite House; but the
borders of the forest furnished a sufficient tribute of agoutis, capybaras,
kangaroos, peccaries, etc.; and if the result from the traps was less than
during the cold, still the warren yielded its accustomed quota, which might
have fed all the colony in Lincoln Island.
Often during these excursions, Herbert talked with Gideon Spilett on the
incident of the bullet, and the deductions which the engineer drew from it,
and one day—it was the 26th of October—he said—“But, Mr. Spilett, do
you not think it very extraordinary that, if any castaways have landed on the
island, they have not yet shown themselves near Granite House?”
“Very astonishing if they are still here,” replied the reporter, “but not
astonishing at all if they are here no longer!”
“So you think that these people have already quitted the island?” returned
Herbert.
“It is more than probable, my boy; for if their stay was prolonged, and
above all, if they were still here, some accident would have at last betrayed
their presence.”
“But if they were able to go away,” observed the lad, “they could not
have been castaways.”

“No, Herbert; or, at least, they were what might be called provisional
castaways. It is very possible that a storm may have driven them to the
island without destroying their vessel, and that, the storm over, they went
away again.”
“I must acknowledge one thing,” said Herbert, “it is that Captain Harding
appears rather to fear than desire the presence of human beings on our
island.”
“In short,” responded the reporter, “there are only Malays who frequent
these seas, and those fellows are ruffians which it is best to avoid.”
“It is not impossible, Mr. Spilett,” said Herbert, “that some day or other
we may find traces of their landing.”
“I do not say no, my boy. A deserted camp, the ashes of a fire, would put
us on the track, and this is what we will look for in our next expedition.”
The day on which the hunters spoke thus, they were in a part of the forest
near the Mercy, remarkable for its beautiful trees. There, among others,
rose, to a height of nearly 200 feet above the ground, some of those superb
coniferae, to which, in New Zealand, the natives give the name of Kauris.
“I have an idea, Mr. Spilett,” said Herbert. “If I were to climb to the top
of one of these kauris, I could survey the country for an immense distance
round.”
“The idea is good,” replied the reporter; “but could you climb to the top
of those giants?”
“I can at least try,” replied Herbert.
The light and active boy then sprang on the first branches, the
arrangement of which made the ascent of the kauri easy, and in a few
minutes he arrived at the summit, which emerged from the immense plain
of verdure.
From this elevated situation his gaze extended over all the southern
portion of the island, from Claw Cape on the southeast, to Reptile End on
the southwest. To the northwest rose Mount Franklin, which concealed a
great part of the horizon.
But Herbert, from the height of his observatory, could examine all the yet
unknown portion of the island, which might have given shelter to the
strangers whose presence they suspected.

The lad looked attentively. There was nothing in sight on the sea, not a
sail, neither on the horizon nor near the island. However, as the bank of
trees hid the shore, it was possible that a vessel, especially if deprived of
her masts, might lie close to the land and thus be invisible to Herbert.
Neither in the forests of the Far West was anything to be seen. The wood
formed an impenetrable screen, measuring several square miles, without a
break or an opening. It was impossible even to follow the course of the
Mercy, or to ascertain in what part of the mountain it took its source.
Perhaps other creeks also ran towards the west, but they could not be seen.
But at last, if all indication of an encampment escaped Herbert’s sight
could he not even catch a glimpse of smoke, the faintest trace of which
would be easily discernible in the pure atmosphere?
For an instant Herbert thought he could perceive a slight smoke in the
west, but a more attentive examination showed that he was mistaken. He
strained his eyes in every direction, and his sight was excellent. No,
decidedly there was nothing there.
Herbert descended to the foot of the kauri, and the two sportsmen
returned to Granite House. There Cyrus Harding listened to the lad’s
account, shook his head and said nothing. It was very evident that no
decided opinion could be pronounced on this question until after a complete
exploration of the island.
Two days after—the 28th of October—another incident occurred, for
which an explanation was again required.
While strolling along the shore about two miles from Granite House,
Herbert and Neb were fortunate enough to capture a magnificent specimen
of the order of chelonia. It was a turtle of the species Midas, the edible
green turtle, so called from the color both of its shell and fat.
Herbert caught sight of this turtle as it was crawling among the rocks to
reach the sea.
“Help, Neb, help!” he cried.
Neb ran up.
“What a fine animal!” said Neb; “but how are we to catch it?”
“Nothing is easier, Neb,” replied Herbert. “We have only to turn the turtle
on its back, and it cannot possibly get away. Take your spear and do as I
do.”

The reptile, aware of danger, had retired between its carapace and
plastron. They no longer saw its head or feet, and it was motionless as a
rock.
Herbert and Neb then drove their sticks underneath the animal, and by
their united efforts managed without difficulty to turn it on its back. The
turtle, which was three feet in length, would have weighed at least four
hundred pounds.
“Capital!” cried Neb; “this is something which will rejoice friend
Pencroft’s heart.”
In fact, the heart of friend Pencroft could not fail to be rejoiced, for the
flesh of the turtle, which feeds on wrack-grass, is extremely savory. At this
moment the creature’s head could be seen, which was small, flat, but
widened behind by the large temporal fossae hidden under the long roof.
“And now, what shall we do with our prize?” said Neb. “We can’t drag it
to Granite House!”
“Leave it here, since it cannot turn over,” replied Herbert, “and we will
come back with the cart to fetch it.”
“That is the best plan.”
However, for greater precaution, Herbert took the trouble, which Neb
deemed superfluous, to wedge up the animal with great stones; after which
the two hunters returned to Granite House, following the beach, which the
tide had left uncovered. Herbert, wishing to surprise Pencroft, said nothing
about the “superb specimen of a chelonian” which they had turned over on
the sand; but, two hours later, he and Neb returned with the cart to the place
where they had left it. The “superb specimen of a chelonian” was no longer
there!
Neb and Herbert stared at each other first; then they stared about them. It
was just at this spot that the turtle had been left. The lad even found the
stones which he had used, and therefore he was certain of not being
mistaken.
“Well!” said Neb, “these beasts can turn themselves over, then?’’
“It appears so,” replied Herbert, who could not understand it at all, and
was gazing at the stones scattered on the sand.
“Well, Pencroft will be disgusted!”

“And Captain Harding will perhaps be very perplexed how to explain this
disappearance,” thought Herbert.
“Look here,” said Neb, who wished to hide his ill-luck, “we won’t speak
about it.”
“On the contrary, Neb, we must speak about it,” replied Herbert.
And the two, taking the cart, which there was now no use for, returned to
Granite House.
Arrived at the dockyard, where the engineer and the sailor were working
together, Herbert recounted what had happened.
“Oh! the stupids!” cried the sailor, “to have let at least fifty meals
escape!”
“But, Pencroft,” replied Neb, “it wasn’t our fault that the beast got away;
as I tell you, we had turned it over on its back!”
“Then you didn’t turn it over enough!” returned the obstinate sailor.
“Not enough!” cried Herbert.
And he told how he had taken care to wedge up the turtle with stones.
“It is a miracle, then!” replied Pencroft.
“I thought, captain,” said Herbert, “that turtles, once placed on their
backs, could not regain their feet, especially when they are of a large size?’
“That is true, my boy,” replied Cyrus Harding.
“Then how did it manage?”
“At what distance from the sea did you leave this turtle?” asked the
engineer, who, having suspended his work, was reflecting on this incident.
“Fifteen feet at the most,” replied Herbert.
“And the tide was low at the time?”
“Yes, captain.”
“Well,” replied the engineer, “what the turtle could not do on the sand it
might have been able to do in the water. It turned over when the tide
overtook it, and then quietly returned to the deep sea.”
“Oh! what stupids we were!” cried Neb.
“That is precisely what I had the honor of telling you before!” returned
the sailor.

Cyrus Harding had given this explanation, which, no doubt, was
admissible. But was he himself convinced of the accuracy of this
explanation? It cannot be said that he was.

Chapter 2
On the 9th of October the bark canoe was entirely finished. Pencroft had
kept his promise, and a light boat, the shell of which was joined together by
the flexible twigs of the crejimba, had been constructed in five days. A seat
in the stern, a second seat in the middle to preserve the equilibrium, a third
seat in the bows, rowlocks for the two oars, a scull to steer with, completed
the little craft, which was twelve feet long, and did not weigh more than
two hundred pounds. The operation of launching it was extremely simple.
The canoe was carried to the beach and laid on the sand before Granite
House, and the rising tide floated it. Pencroft, who leaped in directly,
maneuvered it with the scull and declared it to be just the thing for the
purpose to which they wished to put it.
“Hurrah!” cried the sailor, who did not disdain to celebrate thus his own
triumph. “With this we could go round—”
“The world?” asked Gideon Spilett.
“No, the island. Some stones for ballast, a mast and a sail, which the
captain will make for us some day, and we shall go splendidly! Well,
captain—and you, Mr. Spilett; and you, Herbert; and you, Neb—aren’t you
coming to try our new vessel? Come along! we must see if it will carry all
five of us!”
This was certainly a trial which ought to be made. Pencroft soon brought
the canoe to the shore by a narrow passage among the rocks, and it was
agreed that they should make a trial of the boat that day by following the
shore as far as the first point at which the rocks of the south ended.
As they embarked, Neb cried,—
“But your boat leaks rather, Pencroft.”
“That’s nothing, Neb,” replied the sailor; “the wood will get seasoned. In
two days there won’t be a single leak, and our boat will have no more water
in her than there is in the stomach of a drunkard. Jump in!”
They were soon all seated, and Pencroft shoved off. The weather was
magnificent, the sea as calm as if its waters were contained within the

narrow limits of a lake. Thus the boat could proceed with as much security
as if it was ascending the tranquil current of the Mercy.
Neb took one of the oars, Herbert the other, and Pencroft remained in the
stern in order to use the scull.
The sailor first crossed the channel, and steered close to the southern
point of the islet. A light breeze blew from the south. No roughness was
found either in the channel or the green sea. A long swell, which the canoe
scarcely felt, as it was heavily laden, rolled regularly over the surface of the
water. They pulled out about half a mile distant from the shore, that they
might have a good view of Mount Franklin.
Pencroft afterwards returned towards the mouth of the river. The boat
then skirted the shore, which, extending to the extreme point, hid all
Tadorn’s Fens.
This point, of which the distance was increased by the irregularity of the
coast, was nearly three miles from the Mercy. The settlers resolved to go to
its extremity, and only go beyond it as much as was necessary to take a
rapid survey of the coast as far as Claw Cape.
The canoe followed the windings of the shore, avoiding the rocks which
fringed it, and which the rising tide began to cover. The cliff gradually
sloped away from the mouth of the river to the point. This was formed of
granite rocks, capriciously distributed, very different from the cliff at
Prospect Heights, and of an extremely wild aspect. It might have been said
that an immense cartload of rocks had been emptied out there. There was no
vegetation on this sharp promontory, which projected two miles from the
forest, and it thus represented a giant’s arm stretched out from a leafy
sleeve.
The canoe, impelled by the two oars, advanced without difficulty. Gideon
Spilett, pencil in one hand and notebook in the other, sketched the coast in
bold strokes. Neb, Herbert, and Pencroft chatted, while examining this part
of their domain, which was new to them, and, in proportion as the canoe
proceeded towards the south, the two Mandible Capes appeared to move,
and surround Union Bay more closely.
As to Cyrus Harding, he did not speak; he simply gazed, and by the
mistrust which his look expressed, it appeared that he was examining some
strange country.

In the meantime, after a voyage of three-quarters of an hour, the canoe
reached the extremity of the point, and Pencroft was preparing to return,
when Herbert, rising, pointed to a black object, saying,—
“What do I see down there on the beach?”
All eyes turned towards the point indicated.
“Why,” said the reporter, “there is something. It looks like part of a
wreck half buried in the sand.”
“Ah!” cried Pencroft, “I see what it is!”
“What?” asked Neb.
“Barrels, barrels, which perhaps are full,” replied the sailor.
“Pull to the shore, Pencroft!” said Cyrus.
A few strokes of the oar brought the canoe into a little creek, and its
passengers leaped on shore.
Pencroft was not mistaken. Two barrels were there, half buried in the
sand, but still firmly attached to a large chest, which, sustained by them,
had floated to the moment when it stranded on the beach.
“There has been a wreck, then, in some part of the island,” said Herbert.
“Evidently,” replied Spilett.
“But what’s in this chest?” cried Pencroft, with very natural impatience.
“What’s in this chest? It is shut up, and nothing to open it with! Well,
perhaps a stone—”
And the sailor, raising a heavy block, was about to break in one of the
sides of the chest, when the engineer arrested his hand.
“Pencroft,” said he, “can you restrain your impatience for one hour
only?”
“But, captain, just think! Perhaps there is everything we want in there!”
“We shall find that out, Pencroft,” replied the engineer; “but trust to me,
and do not break the chest, which may be useful to us. We must convey it to
Granite House, where we can open it easily, and without breaking it. It is
quite prepared for a voyage; and since it has floated here, it may just as well
float to the mouth of the river.”
“You are right, captain, and I was wrong, as usual,” replied the sailor.

The engineer’s advice was good. In fact, the canoe probably would not
have been able to contain the articles possibly enclosed in the chest, which
doubtless was heavy, since two empty barrels were required to buoy it up. It
was, therefore, much better to tow it to the beach at Granite House.
And now, whence had this chest come? That was the important question.
Cyrus Harding and his companions looked attentively around them, and
examined the shore for several hundred steps. No other articles or pieces of
wreck could be found. Herbert and Neb climbed a high rock to survey the
sea, but there was nothing in sight—neither a dismasted vessel nor a ship
under sail.
However, there was no doubt that there had been a wreck. Perhaps this
incident was connected with that of the bullet? Perhaps strangers had landed
on another part of the island? Perhaps they were still there? But the thought
which came naturally to the settlers was, that these strangers could not be
Malay pirates, for the chest was evidently of American or European make.
All the party returned to the chest, which was of an unusually large size.
It was made of oak wood, very carefully closed and covered with a thick
hide, which was secured by copper nails. The two great barrels,
hermetically sealed, but which sounded hollow and empty, were fastened to
its sides by strong ropes, knotted with a skill which Pencroft directly
pronounced sailors alone could exhibit. It appeared to be in a perfect state
of preservation, which was explained by the fact that it had stranded on a
sandy beach, and not among rocks. They had no doubt whatever, on
examining it carefully, that it had not been long in the water, and that its
arrival on this coast was recent. The water did not appear to have penetrated
to the inside, and the articles which it contained were no doubt uninjured.
It was evident that this chest had been thrown overboard from some
dismasted vessel driven towards the island, and that, in the hope that it
would reach the land, where they might afterwards find it, the passengers
had taken the precaution to buoy it up by means of this floating apparatus.
“We will tow this chest to Granite House,” said the engineer, “where we
can make an inventory of its contents; then, if we discover any of the
survivors from the supposed wreck, we can return it to those to whom it
belongs. If we find no one—”
“We will keep it for ourselves!” cried Pencroft. “But what in the world
can there be in it?”

The sea was already approaching the chest, and the high tide would
evidently float it. One of the ropes which fastened the barrels was partly
unlashed and used as a cable to unite the floating apparatus with the canoe.
Pencroft and Neb then dug away the sand with their oars, so as to facilitate
the moving of the chest, towing which the boat soon began to double the
point, to which the name of Flotsam Point was given.
The chest was heavy, and the barrels were scarcely sufficient to keep it
above water. The sailor also feared every instant that it would get loose and
sink to the bottom of the sea. But happily his fears were not realized, and an
hour and a half after they set out—all that time had been taken up in going a
distance of three miles—the boat touched the beach below Granite House.
Canoe and chest were then hauled up on the sands; and as the tide was
then going out, they were soon left high and dry. Neb, hurrying home,
brought back some tools with which to open the chest in such a way that it
might be injured as little as possible, and they proceeded to its inventory.
Pencroft did not try to hide that he was greatly excited.
The sailor began by detaching the two barrels, which, being in good
condition, would of course be of use. Then the locks were forced with a
cold chisel and hammer, and the lid thrown back. A second casing of zinc
lined the interior of the chest, which had been evidently arranged that the
articles which it enclosed might under any circumstances be sheltered from
damp.
“Oh!” cried Neb, “suppose it’s jam!
“I hope not,” replied the reporter.
“If only there was—” said the sailor in a low voice.
“What?” asked Neb, who overheard him.
“Nothing!”
The covering of zinc was torn off and thrown back over the sides of the
chest, and by degrees numerous articles of very varied character were
produced and strewn about on the sand. At each new object Pencroft uttered
fresh hurrahs, Herbert clapped his hands, and Neb danced up and down.
There were books which made Herbert wild with joy, and cooking utensils
which Neb covered with kisses!
In short, the colonists had reason to be extremely satisfied, for this chest
contained tools, weapons, instruments, clothes, books; and this is the exact

list of them as stated in Gideon Spilett’s note-book: —Tools:—3 knives
with several blades, 2 woodmen’s axes, 2 carpenter’s hatchets, 3 planes, 2
adzes, 1 twibil or mattock, 6 chisels, 2 files, 3 hammers, 3 gimlets, 2 augers,
10 bags of nails and screws, 3 saws of different sizes, 2 boxes of needles.
Weapons:—2 flint-lock guns, 2 for percussion caps, 2 breach-loader
carbines, 5 boarding cutlasses, 4 sabers, 2 barrels of powder, each
containing twenty-five pounds; 12 boxes of percussion caps.
Instruments:—1 sextant, 1 double opera-glass, 1 telescope, 1 box of
mathematical instruments, 1 mariner’s compass, 1 Fahrenheit thermometer,
1 aneroid barometer, 1 box containing a photographic apparatus, object-
glass, plates, chemicals, etc.
Clothes:—2 dozen shirts of a peculiar material resembling wool, but
evidently of a vegetable origin; 3 dozen stockings of the same material.
Utensils:—1 iron pot, 6 copper saucepans, 3 iron dishes, 10 metal plates,
2 kettles, 1 portable stove, 6 table-knives.
Books:—1 Bible, 1 atlas, 1 dictionary of the different Polynesian idioms,
1 dictionary of natural science, in six volumes; 3 reams of white paper, 2
books with blank pages.
“It must be allowed,” said the reporter, after the inventory had been
made, “that the owner of this chest was a practical man! Tools, weapons,
instruments, clothes, utensils, books—nothing is wanting! It might really be
said that he expected to be wrecked, and had prepared for it beforehand.”
“Nothing is wanting, indeed,” murmured Cyrus Harding thoughtfully.
“And for a certainty,” added Herbert, “the vessel which carried this chest
and its owner was not a Malay pirate!”
“Unless,” said Pencroft, “the owner had been taken prisoner by pirates
—”
“That is not admissible,” replied the reporter. “It is more probable that an
American or European vessel has been driven into this quarter, and that her
passengers, wishing to save necessaries at least, prepared this chest and
threw it overboard.”
“Is that your opinion, captain?” asked Herbert.
“Yes, my boy,” replied the engineer, “that may have been the case. It is
possible that at the moment, or in expectation of a wreck, they collected

into this chest different articles of the greatest use in hopes of finding it
again on the coast—”
“Even the photographic box!” exclaimed the sailor incredulously.
“As to that apparatus,” replied Harding, “I do not quite see the use of it;
and a more complete supply of clothes or more abundant ammunition
would have been more valuable to us as well as to any other castaways!”
“But isn’t there any mark or direction on these instruments, tools, or
books, which would tell us something about them?” asked Gideon Spilett.
That might be ascertained. Each article was carefully examined,
especially the books, instruments and weapons. Neither the weapons nor the
instruments, contrary to the usual custom, bore the name of the maker; they
were, besides, in a perfect state, and did not appear to have been used. The
same peculiarity marked the tools and utensils; all were new, which proved
that the articles had not been taken by chance and thrown into the chest,
but, on the contrary, that the choice of things had been well considered and
arranged with care. This was also indicated by the second case of metal
which had preserved them from damp, and which could not have been
soldered in a moment of haste.
As to the dictionaries of natural science and Polynesian idioms, both
were English; but they neither bore the name of the publisher nor the date
of publication.
The same with the Bible printed in English, in quarto, remarkable from a
typographic point of view, and which appeared to have been often used.
The atlas was a magnificent work, comprising maps of every country in
the world, and several planispheres arranged upon Mercator’s projection,
and of which the nomenclature was in French—but which also bore neither
date nor name of publisher.
There was nothing, therefore, on these different articles by which they
could be traced, and nothing consequently of a nature to show the
nationality of the vessel which must have recently passed these shores.
But, wherever the chest might have come from, it was a treasure to the
settlers on Lincoln Island. Till then, by making use of the productions of
nature, they had created everything for themselves, and, thanks to their
intelligence, they had managed without difficulty. But did it not appear as if

Providence had wished to reward them by sending them these productions
of human industry? Their thanks rose unanimously to Heaven.
However, one of them was not quite satisfied: it was Pencroft. It
appeared that the chest did not contain something which he evidently held
in great esteem, for in proportion as they approached the bottom of the box,
his hurrahs diminished in heartiness, and, the inventory finished, he was
heard to mutter these words:—“That’s all very fine, but you can see that
there is nothing for me in that box!”
This led Neb to say,—
“Why, friend Pencroft, what more do you expect?”
“Half a pound of tobacco,” replied Pencroft seriously, “and nothing
would have been wanting to complete my happiness!”
No one could help laughing at this speech of the sailor’s.
But the result of this discovery of the chest was, that it was now more
than ever necessary to explore the island thoroughly. It was therefore agreed
that the next morning at break of day, they should set out, by ascending the
Mercy so as to reach the western shore. If any castaways had landed on the
coast, it was to be feared they were without resources, and it was therefore
the more necessary to carry help to them without delay.
During the day the different articles were carried to Granite House, where
they were methodically arranged in the great hall. This day—the 29th of
October—happened to be a Sunday, and, before going to bed, Herbert asked
the engineer if he would not read them something from the Gospel.
“Willingly,” replied Cyrus Harding.
He took the sacred volume, and was about to open it, when Pencroft
stopped him, saying,—“Captain, I am superstitious. Open at random and
read the first verse which, your eye falls upon. We will see if it applies to
our situation.”
Cyrus Harding smiled at the sailor’s idea, and, yielding to his wish, he
opened exactly at a place where the leaves were separated by a marker.
Immediately his eyes were attracted by a cross which, made with a
pencil, was placed against the eighth verse of the seventh chapter of the
Gospel of St. Matthew. He read the verse, which was this:—
“For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth.”

Chapter 3
The next day, the 30th of October, all was ready for the proposed
exploring expedition, which recent events had rendered so necessary. In
fact, things had so come about that the settlers in Lincoln Island no longer
needed help for themselves, but were even able to carry it to others.
It was therefore agreed that they should ascend the Mercy as far as the
river was navigable. A great part of the distance would thus be traversed
without fatigue, and the explorers could transport their provisions and arms
to an advanced point in the west of the island.
It was necessary to think not only of the things which they should take
with them, but also of those which they might have by chance to bring back
to Granite House. If there had been a wreck on the coast, as was supposed,
there would be many things cast up, which would be lawfully their prizes.
In the event of this, the cart would have been of more use than the light
canoe, but it was heavy and clumsy to drag, and therefore more difficult to
use; this led Pencroft to express his regret that the chest had not contained,
besides “his halfpound of tobacco,” a pair of strong New Jersey horses,
which would have been very useful to the colony!
The provisions, which Neb had already packed up, consisted of a store of
meat and of several gallons of beer, that is to say enough to sustain them for
three days, the time which Harding assigned for the expedition. They hoped
besides to supply themselves on the road, and Neb took care not to forget
the portable stove.
The only tools the settlers took were the two woodmen’s axes, which
they could use to cut a path through the thick forests, as also the
instruments, the telescope and pocket-compass.
For weapons they selected the two flint-lock guns, which were likely to
be more useful to them than the percussion fowling-pieces, the first only
requiring flints which could be easily replaced, and the latter needing
fulminating caps, a frequent use of which would soon exhaust their limited
stock. However, they took also one of the carbines and some cartridges. As
to the powder, of which there was about fifty pounds in the barrel, a small

supply of it had to be taken, but the engineer hoped to manufacture an
explosive substance which would allow them to husband it. To the firearms
were added the five cutlasses well sheathed in leather, and, thus supplied,
the settlers could venture into the vast forest with some chance of success.
It is useless to add that Pencroft, Herbert, and Neb, thus armed, were at
the summit of their happiness, although Cyrus Harding made them promise
not to fire a shot unless it was necessary.
At six in the morning the canoe put off from the shore; all had embarked,
including Top, and they proceeded to the mouth of the Mercy.
The tide had begun to come up half an hour before. For several hours,
therefore, there would be a current, which it was well to profit by, for later
the ebb would make it difficult to ascend the river. The tide was already
strong, for in three days the moon would be full, and it was enough to keep
the boat in the center of the current, where it floated swiftly along between
the high banks without its being necessary to increase its speed by the aid of
the oars. In a few minutes the explorers arrived at the angle formed by the
Mercy and exactly at the place where, seven months before, Pencroft had
made his first raft of wood.
After this sudden angle the river widened and flowed under the shade of
great evergreen firs.
The aspect of the banks was magnificent. Cyrus Harding and his
companions could not but admire the lovely effects so easily produced by
nature with water and trees. As they advanced the forest element
diminished. On the right bank of the river grew magnificent specimens of
the ulmaceae tribe, the precious elm, so valuable to builders, and which
withstands well the action of water. Then there were numerous groups
belonging to the same family, among others one in particular, the fruit of
which produces a very useful oil. Further on, Herbert remarked the
lardizabala, a twining shrub which, when bruised in water, furnishes
excellent cordage; and two or three ebony trees of a beautiful black, crossed
with capricious veins.
From time to time, in certain places where the landing was easy, the
canoe was stopped, when Gideon Spilett, Herbert, and Pencroft, their guns
in their hands, and preceded by Top, jumped on shore. Without expecting
game, some useful plant might be met with, and the young naturalist was
delighted with discovering a sort of wild spinach, belonging to the order of

chenopodiaceae, and numerous specimens of cruciferae, belonging to the
cabbage tribe, which it would certainly be possible to cultivate by
transplanting. There were cresses, horseradish, turnips, and lastly, little
branching hairy stalks, scarcely more than three feet high, which produced
brownish grains.
“Do you know what this plant is?” asked Herbert of the sailor.
“Tobacco!” cried Pencroft, who evidently had never seen his favorite
plant except in the bowl of his pipe.
“No, Pencroft,” replied Herbert; “this is not tobacco, it is mustard.”
“Mustard be hanged!” returned the sailor; “but if by chance you happen
to come across a tobacco-plant, my boy, pray don’t scorn that!”
“We shall find it some day!” said Gideon Spilett.
“Well!” exclaimed Pencroft, “when that day comes, I do not know what
more will be wanting in our island!”
These different plants, which had been carefully rooted up, were carried
to the canoe, where Cyrus Harding had remained buried in thought.
The reporter, Herbert, and Pencroft in this manner frequently
disembarked, sometimes on the right bank, sometimes on the left bank of
the Mercy.
The latter was less abrupt, but the former more wooded. The engineer
ascertained by consulting his pocket-compass that the direction of the river
from the first turn was obviously southwest and northeast, and nearly
straight for a length of about three miles. But it was to be supposed that this
direction changed beyond that point, and that the Mercy continued to the
north-west, towards the spurs of Mount Franklin, among which the river
rose.
During one of these excursions, Gideon Spilett managed to get hold of
two couples of living gallinaceae. They were birds with long, thin beaks,
lengthened necks, short wings, and without any appearance of a tail.
Herbert rightly gave them the name of tinamous, and it was resolved that
they should be the first tenants of their future poultry-yard.
But till then the guns had not spoken, and the first report which awoke
the echoes of the forest of the Far West was provoked by the appearance of
a beautiful bird, resembling the kingfisher.

“I recognize him!” cried Pencroft, and it seemed as if his gun went off by
itself.
“What do you recognize?” asked the reporter.
“The bird which escaped us on our first excursion, and from which we
gave the name to that part of the forest.”
“A jacamar!” cried Herbert.
It was indeed a jacamar, of which the plumage shines with a metallic
luster. A shot brought it to the ground, and Top carried it to the canoe. At the
same time half a dozen lories were brought down. The lory is of the size of
a pigeon, the plumage dashed with green, part of the wings crimson, and its
crest bordered with white. To the young boy belonged the honor of this
shot, and he was proud enough of it. Lories are better food than the jacamar,
the flesh of which is rather tough, but it was difficult to persuade Pencroft
that he had not killed the king of eatable birds. It was ten o’clock in the
morning when the canoe reached a second angle of the Mercy, nearly five
miles from its mouth. Here a halt was made for breakfast under the shade of
some splendid trees. The river still measured from sixty to seventy feet in
breadth, and its bed from five to six feet in depth. The engineer had
observed that it was increased by numerous affluents, but they were
unnavigable, being simply little streams. As to the forest, including Jacamar
Wood, as well as the forests of the Far West, it extended as far as the eye
could reach. In no place, either in the depths of the forests or under the trees
on the banks of the Mercy, was the presence of man revealed. The explorers
could not discover one suspicious trace. It was evident that the woodman’s
axe had never touched these trees, that the pioneer’s knife had never
severed the creepers hanging from one trunk to another in the midst of
tangled brushwood and long grass. If castaways had landed on the island,
they could not have yet quitted the shore, and it was not in the woods that
the survivors of the supposed shipwreck should be sought.
The engineer therefore manifested some impatience to reach the western
coast of Lincoln Island, which was at least five miles distant according to
his estimation.
The voyage was continued, and as the Mercy appeared to flow not
towards the shore, but rather towards Mount Franklin, it was decided that
they should use the boat as long as there was enough water under its keel to
float it. It was both fatigue spared and time gained, for they would have

been obliged to cut a path through the thick wood with their axes. But soon
the flow completely failed them, either the tide was going down, and it was
about the hour, or it could no longer be felt at this distance from the mouth
of the Mercy. They had therefore to make use of the oars. Herbert and Neb
each took one, and Pencroft took the scull. The forest soon became less
dense, the trees grew further apart and often quite isolated. But the further
they were from each other the more magnificent they appeared, profiting, as
they did, by the free, pure air which circulated around them.
What splendid specimens of the flora of this latitude! Certainly their
presence would have been enough for a botanist to name without hesitation
the parallel which traversed Lincoln Island.
“Eucalypti!” cried Herbert.
They were, in fact, those splendid trees, the giants of the extratropical
zone, the congeners of the Australian and New Zealand eucalyptus, both
situated under the same latitude as Lincoln Island. Some rose to a height of
two hundred feet. Their trunks at the base measured twenty feet in
circumference, and their bark was covered by a network of farrows
containing a red, sweet-smelling gum. Nothing is more wonderful or more
singular than those enormous specimens of the order of the myrtaceae, with
their leaves placed vertically and not horizontally, so that an edge and not a
surface looks upwards, the effect being that the sun’s rays penetrate more
freely among the trees.
The ground at the foot of the eucalypti was carpeted with grass, and from
the bushes escaped flights of little birds, which glittered in the sunlight like
winged rubies.
“These are something like trees!” cried Neb; “but are they good for
anything?”
“Pooh!” replied Pencroft. “Of course there are vegetable giants as well as
human giants, and they are no good, except to show themselves at fairs!”
“I think that you are mistaken, Pencroft,” replied Gideon Spilett, “and
that the wood of the eucalyptus has begun to be very advantageously
employed in cabinet-making.”
“And I may add,” said Herbert, “that the eucalyptus belongs to a family
which comprises many useful members; the guava-tree, from whose fruit
guava jelly is made; the clove-tree, which produces the spice; the

pomegranate-tree, which bears pomegranates; the Eugeacia Cauliflora, the
fruit of which is used in making a tolerable wine; the Ugui myrtle, which
contains an excellent alcoholic liquor; the Caryophyllus myrtle, of which
the bark forms an esteemed cinnamon; the Eugenia Pimenta, from whence
comes Jamaica pepper; the common myrtle, from whose buds and berries
spice is sometimes made; the Eucalyptus manifera, which yields a sweet
sort of manna; the Guinea Eucalyptus, the sap of which is transformed into
beer by fermentation; in short, all those trees known under the name of
gum-trees or iron-bark trees in Australia, belong to this family of the
myrtaceae, which contains forty-six genera and thirteen hundred species!”
The lad was allowed to run on, and he delivered his little botanical
lecture with great animation. Cyrus Harding listened smiling, and Pencroft
with an indescribable feeling of pride.
“Very good, Herbert,” replied Pencroft, “but I could swear that all those
useful specimens you have just told us about are none of them giants like
these!”
“That is true, Pencroft.”
“That supports what I said,” returned the sailor, “namely, that these giants
are good for nothing!”
“There you are wrong, Pencroft,” said the engineer; “these gigantic
eucalypti, which shelter us, are good for something.”
“And what is that?”
“To render the countries which they inhabit healthy. Do you know what
they are called in Australia and New Zealand?”
“No, captain.”
“They are called ‘fever trees.’”
“Because they give fevers?”
“No, because they prevent them!”
“Good. I must note that,” said the reporter.
“Note it then, my dear Spilett; for it appears proved that the presence of
the eucalyptus is enough to neutralize miasmas. This natural antidote has
been tried in certain countries in the middle of Europe and the north of
Africa where the soil was absolutely unhealthy, and the sanitary condition
of the inhabitants has been gradually ameliorated. No more intermittent

fevers prevail in the regions now covered with forests of the myrtaceae.
This fact is now beyond doubt, and it is a happy circumstance for us settlers
in Lincoln Island.”
“Ah! what an island! What a blessed island!” cried Pencroft. “I tell you,
it wants nothing—unless it is—”
“That will come, Pencroft, that will be found,” replied the engineer; “but
now we must continue our voyage and push on as far as the river will carry
our boat!”
The exploration was therefore continued for another two miles in the
midst of country covered with eucalypti, which predominated in the woods
of this portion of the island. The space which they occupied extended as far
as the eye could reach on each side of the Mercy, which wound along
between high green banks. The bed was often obstructed by long weeds,
and even by pointed rocks, which rendered the navigation very difficult.
The action of the oars was prevented, and Pencroft was obliged to push
with a pole. They found also that the water was becoming shallower and
shallower, and that the canoe must soon stop. The sun was already sinking
towards the horizon, and the trees threw long shadows on the ground. Cyrus
Harding, seeing that he could not hope to reach the western coast of the
island in one journey, resolved to camp at the place where any further
navigation was prevented by want of water. He calculated that they were
still five or six miles from the coast, and this distance was too great for
them to attempt during the night in the midst of unknown woods.
The boat was pushed on through the forest, which gradually became
thicker again, and appeared also to have more inhabitants; for if the eyes of
the sailor did not deceive him, he thought he saw bands of monkeys
springing among the trees. Sometimes even two or three of these animals
stopped at a little distance from the canoe and gazed at the settlers without
manifesting any terror, as if, seeing men for the first time, they had not yet
learned to fear them. It would have been easy to bring down one of these
quadramani with a gunshot, and Pencroft was greatly tempted to fire, but
Harding opposed so useless a massacre. This was prudent, for the monkeys,
or apes rather, appearing to be very powerful and extremely active, it was
useless to provoke an unnecessary aggression, and the creatures might,
ignorant of the power of the explorers’ firearms, have attacked them. It is
true that the sailor considered the monkeys from a purely alimentary point

of view, for those animals which are herbivorous make very excellent game;
but since they had an abundant supply of provisions, it was a pity to waste
their ammunition.
Towards four o’clock, the navigation of the Mercy became exceedingly
difficult, for its course was obstructed by aquatic plants and rocks. The
banks rose higher and higher, and already they were approaching the spurs
of Mount Franklin. The source could not be far off, since it was fed by the
water from the southern slopes of the mountain.
“In a quarter of an hour,” said the sailor, “we shall be obliged to stop,
captain.”
“Very well, we will stop, Pencroft, and we will make our encampment for
the night.”
“At what distance are we from Granite House?” asked Herbert.
“About seven miles,” replied the engineer, “taking into calculation,
however, the detours of the river, which has carried us to the northwest.”
“Shall we go on?” asked the reporter.
“Yes, as long as we can,” replied Cyrus Harding. “To-morrow, at break of
day, we will leave the canoe, and in two hours I hope we shall cross the
distance which separates us from the coast, and then we shall have the
whole day in which to explore the shore.”
“Go ahead!” replied Pencroft.
But soon the boat grated on the stony bottom of the river, which was now
not more than twenty feet in breadth. The trees met like a bower overhead,
and caused a half-darkness. They also heard the noise of a waterfall, which
showed that a few hundred feet up the river there was a natural barrier.
Presently, after a sudden turn of the river, a cascade appeared through the
trees. The canoe again touched the bottom, and in a few minutes it was
moored to a trunk near the right bank.
It was nearly five o’clock. The last rays of the sun gleamed through the
thick foliage and glanced on the little waterfall, making the spray sparkle
with all the colors of the rainbow. Beyond that, the Mercy was lost in the
bushwood, where it was fed from some hidden source. The different
streams which flowed into it increased it to a regular river further down, but
here it was simply a shallow, limpid brook.

It was agreed to camp here, as the place was charming. The colonists
disembarked, and a fire was soon lighted under a clump of trees, among the
branches of which Cyrus Harding and his companions could, if it was
necessary, take refuge for the night.
Supper was quickly devoured, for they were very hungry, and then there
was only sleeping to think of. But, as roarings of rather a suspicious nature
had been heard during the evening, a good fire was made up for the night,
so as to protect the sleepers with its crackling flames. Neb and Pencroft also
watched by turns, and did not spare fuel. They thought they saw the dark
forms of some wild animals prowling round the camp among the bushes,
but the night passed without incident, and the next day, the 31st of October,
at five o’clock in the morning, all were on foot, ready for a start.

Chapter 4
It was six o’ clock in the morning when the settlers, after a hasty
breakfast, set out to reach by the shortest way, the western coast of the
island. And how long would it take to do this? Cyrus Harding had said two
hours, but of course that depended on the nature of the obstacles they might
meet with. As it was probable that they would have to cut a path through the
grass, shrubs, and creepers, they marched axe in hand, and with guns also
ready, wisely taking warning from the cries of the wild beasts heard in the
night.
The exact position of the encampment could be determined by the
bearing of Mount Franklin, and as the volcano arose in the north at a
distance of less than three miles, they had only to go straight towards the
southwest to reach the western coast. They set out, having first carefully
secured the canoe. Pencroft and Neb carried sufficient provision for the
little band for at least two days. It would not thus be necessary to hunt. The
engineer advised his companions to refrain from firing, that their presence
might not be betrayed to any one near the shore. The first hatchet blows
were given among the brushwood in the midst of some mastic-trees, a little
above the cascade; and his compass in his hand, Cyrus Harding led the way.
The forest here was composed for the most part of trees which had
already been met with near the lake and on Prospect Heights. There were
deodars, Douglas firs, casuarinas, gum trees, eucalypti, hibiscus, cedars,
and other trees, generally of a moderate size, for their number prevented
their growth.
Since their departure, the settlers had descended the slopes which
constituted the mountain system of the island, on to a dry soil, but the
luxuriant vegetation of which indicated it to be watered either by some
subterranean marsh or by some stream. However, Cyrus Harding did not
remember having seen, at the time of his excursion to the crater, any other
watercourses but the Red Creek and the Mercy.
During the first part of their excursion, they saw numerous troops of
monkeys who exhibited great astonishment at the sight of men, whose

appearance was so new to them. Gideon Spilett jokingly asked whether
these active and merry quadrupeds did not consider him and his
companions as degenerate brothers.
And certainly, pedestrians, hindered at each step by bushes, caught by
creepers, barred by trunks of trees, did not shine beside those supple
animals, who, bounding from branch to branch, were hindered by nothing
on their course. The monkeys were numerous, but happily they did not
manifest any hostile disposition.
Several pigs, agoutis, kangaroos, and other rodents were seen, also two or
three koalas, at which Pencroft longed to have a shot.
“But,” said he, “you may jump and play just now; we shall have one or
two words to say to you on our way back!”
At half-past nine the way was suddenly found to be barred by an
unknown stream, from thirty to forty feet broad, whose rapid current dashed
foaming over the numerous rocks which interrupted its course. This creek
was deep and clear, but it was absolutely unnavigable.
“We are cut off!” cried Neb.
“No,” replied Herbert, “it is only a stream, and we can easily swim over.”
“What would be the use of that?” returned Harding. “This creek
evidently runs to the sea. Let us remain on this side and follow the bank,
and I shall be much astonished if it does not lead us very quickly to the
coast. Forward!”
“One minute,” said the reporter. “The name of this creek, my friends? Do
not let us leave our geography incomplete.”
“All right!” said Pencroft.
“Name it, my boy,” said the engineer, addressing the lad.
“Will it not be better to wait until we have explored it to its mouth?”
answered Herbert.
“Very well,” replied Cyrus Harding. “Let us follow it as fast as we can
without stopping.”
“Still another minute!” said Pencroft.
“What’s the matter?” asked the reporter.
“Though hunting is forbidden, fishing is allowed, I suppose,” said the
sailor.

“We have no time to lose,” replied the engineer.
“Oh! five minutes!” replied Pencroft, “I only ask for five minutes to use
in the interest of our breakfast!”
And Pencroft, lying down on the bank, plunged his arm into the water,
and soon pulled up several dozen of fine crayfish from among the stones.
“These will be good!” cried Neb, going to the sailor’s aid.
“As I said, there is everything in this island, except tobacco!” muttered
Pencroft with a sigh.
The fishing did not take five minutes, for the crayfish were swarming in
the creek. A bag was filled with the crustaceae, whose shells were of a
cobalt blue. The settlers then pushed on.
They advanced more rapidly and easily along the bank of the river than
in the forest. From time to time they came upon the traces of animals of a
large size who had come to quench their thirst at the stream, but none were
actually seen, and it was evidently not in this part of the forest that the
peccary had received the bullet which had cost Pencroft a grinder.
In the meanwhile, considering the rapid current, Harding was led to
suppose that he and his companions were much farther from the western
coast than they had at first supposed. In fact, at this hour, the rising tide
would have turned back the current of the creek, if its mouth had only been
a few miles distant. Now, this effect was not produced, and the water
pursued its natural course. The engineer was much astonished at this, and
frequently consulted his compass, to assure himself that some turn of the
river was not leading them again into the Far West.
However, the creek gradually widened and its waters became less
tumultuous. The trees on the right bank were as close together as on the left
bank, and it was impossible to distinguish anything beyond them; but these
masses of wood were evidently uninhabited, for Top did not bark, and the
intelligent animal would not have failed to signal the presence of any
stranger in the neighborhood.
At half-past ten, to the great surprise of Cyrus Harding, Herbert, who was
a little in front, suddenly stopped and exclaimed,—
“The sea!”
In a few minutes more, the whole western shore of the island lay
extended before the eyes of the settlers.

But what a contrast between this and the eastern coast, upon which
chance had first thrown them. No granite cliff, no rocks, not even a sandy
beach. The forest reached the shore, and the tall trees bending over the
water were beaten by the waves. It was not such a shore as is usually
formed by nature, either by extending a vast carpet of sand, or by grouping
masses of rock, but a beautiful border consisting of the most splendid trees.
The bank was raised a little above the level of the sea, and on this luxuriant
soil, supported by a granite base, the fine forest trees seemed to be as firmly
planted as in the interior of the island.
The colonists were then on the shore of an unimportant little harbor,
which would scarcely have contained even two or three fishing-boats. It
served as a neck to the new creek, of which the curious thing was that its
waters, instead of joining the sea by a gentle slope, fell from a height of
more than forty feet, which explained why the rising tide was not felt up the
stream. In fact, the tides of the Pacific, even at their maximum elevation,
could never reach the level of the river, and, doubtless, millions of years
would pass before the water would have worn away the granite and
hollowed a practicable mouth.
It was settled that the name of Falls River should be given to this stream.
Beyond, towards the north, the forest border was prolonged for a space of
nearly two miles; then the trees became scarcer, and beyond that again the
picturesque heights described a nearly straight line, which ran north and
south. On the contrary, all the part of the shore between Falls River and
Reptile End was a mass of wood, magnificent trees, some straight, others
bent, so that the long sea-swell bathed their roots. Now, it was this coast,
that is, all the Serpentine Peninsula, that was to be explored, for this part of
the shore offered a refuge to castaways, which the other wild and barren
side must have refused.
The weather was fine and clear, and from a height of a hillock on which
Neb and Pencroft had arranged breakfast, a wide view was obtained. There
was, however, not a sail in sight; nothing could be seen along the shore as
far as the eye could reach. But the engineer would take nothing for granted
until he had explored the coast to the very extremity of the Serpentine
Peninsula.
Breakfast was soon despatched, and at half-past eleven the captain gave
the signal for departure. Instead of proceeding over the summit of a cliff or

along a sandy beach, the settlers were obliged to remain under cover of the
trees so that they might continue on the shore.
The distance which separated Falls River from Reptile End was about
twelve miles. It would have taken the settlers four hours to do this, on a
clear ground and without hurrying themselves; but as it was they needed
double the time, for what with trees to go round, bushes to cut down, and
creepers to chop away, they were impeded at every step, these obstacles
greatly lengthening their journey.
There was, however, nothing to show that a shipwreck had taken place
recently. It is true that, as Gideon Spilett observed, any remains of it might
have drifted out to sea, and they must not take it for granted that because
they could find no traces of it, a ship had not been castaway on the coast.
The reporter’s argument was just, and besides, the incident of the bullet
proved that a shot must have been fired in Lincoln Island within three
months.
It was already five o’clock, and there were still two miles between the
settlers and the extremity of the Serpentine Peninsula. It was evident that
after having reached Reptile End, Harding and his companions would not
have time to return before dark to their encampment near the source of the
Mercy. It would therefore be necessary to pass the night on the promontory.
But they had no lack of provisions, which was lucky, for there were no
animals on the shore, though birds, on the contrary, abound—jacamars,
couroucous, tragopans, grouse, lories, parrots, cockatoos, pheasants,
pigeons, and a hundred others. There was not a tree without a nest, and not
a nest which was not full of flapping wings.
Towards seven o’clock the weary explorers arrived at Reptile End. Here
the seaside forest ended, and the shore resumed the customary appearance
of a coast, with rocks, reefs, and sands. It was possible that something
might be found here, but darkness came on, and the further exploration had
to be put off to the next day.
Pencroft and Herbert hastened on to find a suitable place for their camp.
Among the last trees of the forest of the Far West, the boy found several
thick clumps of bamboos.
“Good,” said he; “this is a valuable discovery.”
“Valuable?” returned Pencroft.

“Certainly,” replied Herbert. “I may say, Pencroft, that the bark of the
bamboo, cut into flexible laths, is used for making baskets; that this bark,
mashed into a paste, is used for the manufacture of Chinese paper; that the
stalks furnish, according to their size, canes and pipes and are used for
conducting water; that large bamboos make excellent material for building,
being light and strong, and being never attacked by insects. I will add that
by sawing the bamboo in two at the joint, keeping for the bottom the part of
the transverse film which forms the joint, useful cups are obtained, which
are much in use among the Chinese. No! you don’t care for that. But—”
“But what?”
“But I can tell you, if you are ignorant of it, that in India these bamboos
are eaten like asparagus.”
“Asparagus thirty feet high!” exclaimed the sailor. “And are they good?”
“Excellent,” replied Herbert. “Only it is not the stems of thirty feet high
which are eaten, but the young shoots.”
“Perfect, my boy, perfect!” replied Pencroft.
“I will also add that the pith of the young stalks, preserved in vinegar,
makes a good pickle.”
“Better and better, Herbert!”
“And lastly, that the bamboos exude a sweet liquor which can be made
into a very agreeable drink.”
“Is that all?” asked the sailor.
“That is all!”
“And they don’t happen to do for smoking?”
“No, my poor Pencroft.”
Herbert and the sailor had not to look long for a place in which to pass
the night. The rocks, which must have been violently beaten by the sea
under the influence of the winds of the southwest, presented many cavities
in which shelter could be found against the night air. But just as they were
about to enter one of these caves a loud roaring arrested them.
“Back!” cried Pencroft. “Our guns are only loaded with small shot, and
beasts which can roar as loud as that would care no more for it than for
grains of salt!” And the sailor, seizing Herbert by the arm, dragged him

behind a rock, just as a magnificent animal showed itself at the entrance of
the cavern.
It was a jaguar of a size at least equal to its Asiatic congeners, that is to
say, it measured five feet from the extremity of its head to the beginning of
its tail. The yellow color of its hair was relieved by streaks and regular
oblong spots of black, which contrasted with the white of its chest. Herbert
recognized it as the ferocious rival of the tiger, as formidable as the puma,
which is the rival of the largest wolf!
The jaguar advanced and gazed around him with blazing eyes, his hair
bristling as if this was not the first time he had scented men.
At this moment the reporter appeared round a rock, and Herbert, thinking
that he had not seen the jaguar, was about to rush towards him, when
Gideon Spilett signed to him to remain where he was. This was not his first
tiger, and advancing to within ten feet of the animal he remained
motionless, his gun to his shoulder, without moving a muscle. The jaguar
collected itself for a spring, but at that moment a shot struck it in the eyes,
and it fell dead.
Herbert and Pencroft rushed towards the jaguar. Neb and Harding also
ran up, and they remained for some instants contemplating the animal as it
lay stretched on the ground, thinking that its magnificent skin would be a
great ornament to the hall at Granite House.
“Oh, Mr. Spilett, how I admire and envy you!” cried Herbert, in a fit of
very natural enthusiasm.
“Well, my boy,” replied the reporter, “you could have done the same.”
“I! with such coolness!—”
“Imagine to yourself, Herbert, that the jaguar is only a hare, and you
would fire as quietly as possible.”
“That is,” rejoined Pencroft, “that it is not more dangerous than a hare!”
“And now,” said Gideon Spilett, “since the jaguar has left its abode, I do
not see, my friends, why we should not take possession of it for the night.”
“But others may come,” said Pencroft.
“It will be enough to light a fire at the entrance of the cavern,” said the
reporter, “and no wild beasts will dare to cross the threshold.”

“Into the jaguar’s house, then!” replied the sailor, dragging after him the
body of the animal.
While Neb skinned the jaguar, his companions collected an abundant
supply of dry wood from the forest, which they heaped up at the cave.
Cyrus Harding, seeing the clump of bamboos, cut a quantity, which he
mingled with the other fuel.
This done, they entered the grotto, of which the floor was strewn with
bones, the guns were carefully loaded, in case of a sudden attack, they had
supper, and then just before they lay down to rest, the heap of wood piled at
the entrance was set fire to. Immediately, a regular explosion, or rather a
series of reports, broke the silence! The noise was caused by the bamboos,
which, as the flames reached them, exploded like fireworks. The noise was
enough to terrify even the boldest of wild beasts.
It was not the engineer who had invented this way of causing loud
explosions, for, according to Marco Polo, the Tartars have employed it for
many centuries to drive away from their encampments the formidable wild
beasts of Central Asia.

Chapter 5
Cyrus Harding and his companions slept like innocent marmots in the
cave which the jaguar had so politely left at their disposal.
At sunrise all were on the shore at the extremity of the promontory, and
their gaze was directed towards the horizon, of which two-thirds of the
circumference were visible. For the last time the engineer could ascertain
that not a sail nor the wreck of a ship was on the sea, and even with the
telescope nothing suspicious could be discovered.
There was nothing either on the shore, at least, in the straight line of three
miles which formed the south side of the promontory, for beyond that,
rising ground had the rest of the coast, and even from the extremity of the
Serpentine Peninsula Claw Cape could not be seen.
The southern coast of the island still remained to be explored. Now
should they undertake it immediately, and devote this day to it?
This was not included in their first plan. In fact, when the boat was
abandoned at the sources of the Mercy, it had been agreed that after having
surveyed the west coast, they should go back to it, and return to Granite
House by the Mercy. Harding then thought that the western coast would
have offered refuge, either to a ship in distress, or to a vessel in her regular
course; but now, as he saw that this coast presented no good anchorage, he
wished to seek on the south what they had not been able to find on the west.
Gideon Spilett proposed to continue the exploration, that the question of
the supposed wreck might be completely settled, and he asked at what
distance Claw Cape might be from the extremity of the peninsula.
“About thirty miles,” replied the engineer, “if we take into consideration
the curvings of the coast.”
“Thirty miles!” returned Spilett. “That would be a long day’s march.
Nevertheless, I think that we should return to Granite House by the south
coast.”
“But,” observed Herbert, “from Claw Cape to Granite House there must
be at least another ten miles.

“Make it forty miles in all,” replied the engineer, “and do not hesitate to
do it. At least we should survey the unknown shore, and then we shall not
have to begin the exploration again.”
“Very good,” said Pencroft. “But the boat?”
“The boat has remained by itself for one day at the sources of the
Mercy,” replied Gideon Spilett; “it may just as well stay there two days! As
yet, we have had no reason to think that the island is infested by thieves!”
“Yet,” said the sailor, “when I remember the history of the turtle, I am far
from confident of that.”
“The turtle! the turtle!” replied the reporter. “Don’t you know that the sea
turned it over?”
“Who knows?” murmured the engineer.
“But,—” said Neb.
Neb had evidently something to say, for he opened his mouth to speak
and yet said nothing.
“What do you want to say, Neb?” asked the engineer.
“If we return by the shore to Claw Cape,” replied Neb, “after having
doubled the Cape, we shall be stopped—”
“By the Mercy! of course,” replied Herbert, “and we shall have neither
bridge nor boat by which to cross.”
“But, captain,” added Pencroft, “with a few floating trunks we shall have
no difficulty in crossing the river.”
“Never mind,” said Spilett, “it will be useful to construct a bridge if we
wish to have an easy access to the Far West!”
“A bridge!” cried Pencroft. “Well, is not the captain the best engineer in
his profession? He will make us a bridge when we want one. As to
transporting you this evening to the other side of the Mercy, and that
without wetting one thread of your clothes, I will take care of that. We have
provisions for another day, and besides we can get plenty of game.
Forward!”
The reporter’s proposal, so strongly seconded by the sailor, received
general approbation, for each wished to have their doubts set at rest, and by
returning by Claw Cape the exploration would be ended. But there was not

an hour to lose, for forty miles was a long march, and they could not hope
to reach Granite House before night.
At six o’clock in the morning the little band set out. As a precaution the
guns were loaded with ball, and Top, who led the van, received orders to
beat about the edge of the forest.
From the extremity of the promontory which formed the tail of the
peninsula the coast was rounded for a distance of five miles, which was
rapidly passed over, without even the most minute investigations bringing
to light the least trace of any old or recent landings; no debris, no mark of
an encampment, no cinders of a fire, nor even a footprint!
From the point of the peninsula on which the settlers now were their gaze
could extend along the southwest. Twenty-five miles off the coast
terminated in the Claw Cape, which loomed dimly through the morning
mists, and which, by the phenomenon of the mirage, appeared as if
suspended between land and water.
Between the place occupied by the colonists and the other side of the
immense bay, the shore was composed, first, of a tract of low land, bordered
in the background by trees; then the shore became more irregular,
projecting sharp points into the sea, and finally ended in the black rocks
which, accumulated in picturesque disorder, formed Claw Cape.
Such was the development of this part of the island, which the settlers
took in at a glance, while stopping for an instant.
“If a vessel ran in here,” said Pencroft, “she would certainly be lost.
Sandbanks and reefs everywhere! Bad quarters!”
“But at least something would be left of the ship,” observed the reporter.
“There might be pieces of wood on the rocks, but nothing on the sands,”
replied the sailor.
“Why?”
“Because the sands are still more dangerous than the rocks, for they
swallow up everything that is thrown on them. In a few days the hull of a
ship of several hundred tons would disappear entirely in there!”
“So, Pencroft,” asked the engineer, “if a ship has been wrecked on these
banks, is it not astonishing that there is now no trace of her remaining?”

“No, captain, with the aid of time and tempest. However, it would be
surprising, even in this case, that some of the masts or spars should not have
been thrown on the beach, out of reach of the waves.”
“Let us go on with our search, then,” returned Cyrus Harding.
At one o’clock the colonists arrived at the other side of Washington Bay,
they having now gone a distance of twenty miles.
They then halted for breakfast.
Here began the irregular coast, covered with lines of rocks and
sandbanks. The long sea-swell could be seen breaking over the rocks in the
bay, forming a foamy fringe. From this point to Claw Cape the beach was
very narrow between the edge of the forest and the reefs.
Walking was now more difficult, on account of the numerous rocks
which encumbered the beach. The granite cliff also gradually increased in
height, and only the green tops of the trees which crowned it could be seen.
After half an hour’s rest, the settlers resumed their journey, and not a spot
among the rocks was left unexamined. Pencroft and Neb even rushed into
the surf whenever any object attracted their attention. But they found
nothing, some curious formations of the rocks having deceived them. They
ascertained, however, that eatable shellfish abounded there, but these could
not be of any great advantage to them until some easy means of
communication had been established between the two banks of the Mercy,
and until the means of transport had been perfected.
Nothing therefore which threw any light on the supposed wreck could be
found on this shore, yet an object of any importance, such as the hull of a
ship, would have been seen directly, or any of her masts and spars would
have been washed on shore, just as the chest had been, which was found
twenty miles from here. But there was nothing.
Towards three o’clock Harding and his companions arrived at a snug
little creek. It formed quite a natural harbor, invisible from the sea, and was
entered by a narrow channel.
At the back of this creek some violent convulsion had torn up the rocky
border, and a cutting, by a gentle slope, gave access to an upper plateau,
which might be situated at least ten miles from Claw Cape, and
consequently four miles in a straight line from Prospect Heights. Gideon
Spilett proposed to his companions that they should make a halt here. They

agreed readily, for their walk had sharpened their appetites; and although it
was not their usual dinner-hour, no one refused to strengthen himself with a
piece of venison. This luncheon would sustain them until their supper,
which they intended to take at Granite House. In a few minutes the settlers,
seated under a clump of fine sea-pines, were devouring the provisions
which Neb produced from his bag.
This spot was raised from fifty to sixty feet above the level of the sea.
The view was very extensive, but beyond the cape it ended in Union Bay.
Neither the islet nor Prospect Heights was visible, and could not be from
thence, for the rising ground and the curtain of trees closed the northern
horizon.
It is useless to add that notwithstanding the wide extent of sea which the
explorers could survey, and though the engineer swept the horizon with his
glass, no vessel could be found.
The shore was of course examined with the same care from the edge of
the water to the cliff, and nothing could be discovered even with the aid of
the instrument.
“Well,” said Gideon Spilett, “it seems we must make up our minds to
console ourselves with thinking that no one will come to dispute with us the
possession of Lincoln Island!”
“But the bullet,” cried Herbert. “That was not imaginary, I suppose!”
“Hang it, no!” exclaimed Pencroft, thinking of his absent tooth.
“Then what conclusion may be drawn?” asked the reporter.
“This,” replied the engineer, “that three months or more ago, a vessel,
either voluntarily or not, came here.”
“What! then you admit, Cyrus, that she was swallowed up without
leaving any trace?” cried the reporter.
“No, my dear Spilett; but you see that if it is certain that a human being
set foot on the island, it appears no less certain that he has now left it.”
“Then, if I understand you right, captain,” said Herbert, “the vessel has
left again?”
“Evidently.”
“And we have lost an opportunity to get back to our country?” said Neb.
“I fear so.”

“Very well, since the opportunity is lost, let us go on; it can’t be helped,”
said Pencroft, who felt home-sickness for Granite House.
But just as they were rising, Top was heard loudly barking; and the dog
issued from the wood, holding in his mouth a rag soiled with mud.
Neb seized it. It was a piece of strong cloth!
Top still barked, and by his going and coming, seemed to invite his
master to follow him into the forest.
“Now there’s something to explain the bullet!” exclaimed Pencroft.
“A castaway!” replied Herbert.
“Wounded, perhaps!” said Neb.
“Or dead!” added the reporter.
All ran after the dog, among the tall pines on the border of the forest.
Harding and his companions made ready their firearms, in case of an
emergency.
They advanced some way into the wood, but to their great
disappointment, they as yet saw no signs of any human being having passed
that way. Shrubs and creepers were uninjured, and they had even to cut
them away with the axe, as they had done in the deepest recesses of the
forest. It was difficult to fancy that any human creature had ever passed
there, but yet Top went backward and forward, not like a dog who searches
at random, but like a dog being endowed with a mind, who is following up
an idea.
In about seven or eight minutes Top stopped in a glade surrounded with
tall trees. The settlers gazed around them, but saw nothing, neither under
the bushes nor among the trees.
“What is the matter, Top?” said Cyrus Harding.
Top barked louder, bounding about at the foot of a gigantic pine. All at
once Pencroft shouted,—“Ho, splendid! capital!”
“What is it?” asked Spilett.
“We have been looking for a wreck at sea or on land!”
“Well?”
“Well; and here we’ve found one in the air!”

And the sailor pointed to a great white rag, caught in the top of the pine,
a fallen scrap of which the dog had brought to them.
“But that is not a wreck!” cried Gideon Spilett.
“I beg your pardon!” returned Pencroft.
“Why? is it—?”
“It is all that remains of our airy boat, of our balloon, which has been
caught up aloft there, at the top of that tree!”
Pencroft was not mistaken, and he gave vent to his feelings in a
tremendous hurrah, adding,—
“There is good cloth! There is what will furnish us with linen for years.
There is what will make us handkerchiefs and shirts! Ha, ha, Mr. Spilett,
what do you say to an island where shirts grow on the trees?”
It was certainly a lucky circumstance for the settlers in Lincoln Island
that the balloon, after having made its last bound into the air, had fallen on
the island and thus given them the opportunity of finding it again, whether
they kept the case under its present form, or whether they wished to attempt
another escape by it, or whether they usefully employed the several hundred
yards of cotton, which was of fine quality. Pencroft’s joy was therefore
shared by all.
But it was necessary to bring down the remains of the balloon from the
tree, to place it in security, and this was no slight task. Neb, Herbert, and the
sailor, climbing to the summit of the tree, used all their skill to disengage
the now reduced balloon.
The operation lasted two hours, and then not only the case, with its valve,
its springs, its brasswork, lay on the ground, but the net, that is to say a
considerable quantity of ropes and cordage, and the circle and the anchor.
The case, except for the fracture, was in good condition, only the lower
portion being torn.
It was a fortune which had fallen from the sky.
“All the same, captain,” said the sailor, “if we ever decide to leave the
island, it won’t be in a balloon, will it? These airboats won’t go where we
want them to go, and we have had some experience in that way! Look here,
we will build a craft of some twenty tons, and then we can make a main-
sail, a foresail, and a jib out of that cloth. As to the rest of it, that will help
to dress us.”

“We shall see, Pencroft,” replied Cyrus Harding; “we shall see.”
“In the meantime, we must put it in a safe place,” said Neb.
They certainly could not think of carrying this load of cloth, ropes, and
cordage, to Granite House, for the weight of it was very considerable, and
while waiting for a suitable vehicle in which to convey it, it was of
importance that this treasure should not be left longer exposed to the
mercies of the first storm. The settlers, uniting their efforts, managed to
drag it as far as the shore, where they discovered a large rocky cavity, which
owing to its position could not be visited either by the wind or rain.
“We needed a locker, and now we have one,” said Pencroft; “but as we
cannot lock it up, it will be prudent to hide the opening. I don’t mean from
two-legged thieves, but from those with four paws!”
At six o’clock, all was stowed away, and after having given the creek the
very suitable name of “Port Balloon,” the settlers pursued their way along
Claw Cape. Pencroft and the engineer talked of the different projects which
it was agreed to put into execution with the briefest possible delay. It was
necessary first of all to throw a bridge over the Mercy, so as to establish an
easy communication with the south of the island; then the cart must be
taken to bring back the balloon, for the canoe alone could not carry it, then
they would build a decked boat, and Pencroft would rig it as a cutter, and
they would be able to undertake voyages of circumnavigation round the
island, etc.
In the meanwhile night came on, and it was already dark when the
settlers reached Flotsam Point, where they had found the precious chest.
The distance between Flotsam Point and Granite House was another four
miles, and it was midnight when, after having followed the shore to the
mouth of the Mercy, the settlers arrived at the first angle formed by the
Mercy.
There the river was eighty feet in breadth, which was awkward to cross,
but as Pencroft had taken upon himself to conquer this difficulty, he was
compelled to do it. The settlers certainly had reason to be pretty tired. The
journey had been long, and the task of getting down the balloon had not
rested either their arms or legs. They were anxious to reach Granite House
to eat and sleep, and if the bridge had been constructed, in a quarter of an
hour they would have been at home.

The night was very dark. Pencroft prepared to keep his promise by
constructing a sort of raft, on which to make the passage of the Mercy. He
and Neb, armed with axes, chose two trees near the water, and began to
attack them at the base.
Cyrus Harding and Spilett, seated on the bank, waited till their
companions were ready for their help, while Herbert roamed about, though
without going to any distance. All at once, the lad, who had strolled by the
river, came running back, and, pointing up the Mercy, exclaimed,—
“What is floating there?”
Pencroft stopped working, and seeing an indistinct object moving
through the gloom,—
“A canoe!” cried he.
All approached, and saw to their extreme surprise, a boat floating down
the current.
“Boat ahoy!” shouted the sailor, without thinking that perhaps it would
be best to keep silence.
No reply. The boat still drifted onward, and it was not more than twelve
feet off, when the sailor exclaimed,—
“But it is our own boat! she has broken her moorings, and floated down
the current. I must say she has arrived very opportunely.”
“Our boat?” murmured the engineer.
Pencroft was right. It was indeed the canoe, of which the rope had
undoubtedly broken, and which had come alone from the sources of the
Mercy. It was very important to seize it before the rapid current should have
swept it away out of the mouth of the river, but Neb and Pencroft cleverly
managed this by means of a long pole.
The canoe touched the shore. The engineer leaped in first, and found, on
examining the rope, that it had been really worn through by rubbing against
the rocks.
“Well,” said the reporter to him, in a low voice, “this is a strange thing.”
“Strange indeed!” returned Cyrus Harding.
Strange or not, it was very fortunate. Herbert, the reporter, Neb, and
Pencroft, embarked in turn. There was no doubt about the rope having been
worn through, but the astonishing part of the affair was, that the boat should

arrive just at the moment when the settlers were there to seize it on its way,
for a quarter of an hour earlier or later it would have been lost in the sea.
If they had been living in the time of genii, this incident would have
given them the right to think that the island was haunted by some
supernatural being, who used his power in the service of the castaways!
A few strokes of the oar brought the settlers to the mouth of the Mercy.
The canoe was hauled up on the beach near the Chimneys, and all
proceeded towards the ladder of Granite House.
But at that moment, Top barked angrily, and Neb, who was looking for
the first steps, uttered a cry.
There was no longer a ladder!

Chapter 6
Cyrus Harding stood still, without saying a word. His companions
searched in the darkness on the wall, in case the wind should have moved
the ladder, and on the ground, thinking that it might have fallen down.... But
the ladder had quite disappeared. As to ascertaining if a squall had blown it
on the landing-place, half way up, that was impossible in the dark.
“If it is a joke,” cried Pencroft, “it is a very stupid one! To come home
and find no staircase to go up to your room by—that’s nothing for weary
men to laugh at.”
Neb could do nothing but cry out “Oh! oh! oh!”
“I begin to think that very curious things happen in Lincoln Island!” said
Pencroft.
“Curious?” replied Gideon Spilett, “not at all, Pencroft, nothing can be
more natural. Some one has come during our absence, taken possession of
our dwelling and drawn up the ladder.”
“Some one,” cried the sailor. “But who?”
“Who but the hunter who fired the bullet?” replied the reporter.
“Well, if there is any one up there,” replied Pencroft, who began to lose
patience, “I will give them a hail, and they must answer.”
And in a stentorian voice the sailor gave a prolonged “Halloo!” which
was echoed again and again from the cliff and rocks.
The settlers listened and they thought they heard a sort of chuckling
laugh, of which they could not guess the origin. But no voice replied to
Pencroft, who in vain repeated his vigorous shouts.
There was something indeed in this to astonish the most apathetic of
men, and the settlers were not men of that description. In their situation
every incident had its importance, and, certainly, during the seven months
which they had spent on the island, they had not before met with anything
of so surprising a character.
Be that as it may, forgetting their fatigue in the singularity of the event,
they remained below Granite House, not knowing what to think, not

knowing what to do, questioning each other without any hope of a
satisfactory reply, every one starting some supposition each more unlikely
than the last. Neb bewailed himself, much disappointed at not being able to
get into his kitchen, for the provisions which they had had on their
expedition were exhausted, and they had no means of renewing them.
“My friends,” at last said Cyrus Harding, “there is only one thing to be
done at present; wait for day, and then act according to circumstances. But
let us go to the Chimneys. There we shall be under shelter, and if we cannot
eat, we can at least sleep.”
“But who is it that has played us this cool trick?” again asked Pencroft,
unable to make up his mind to retire from the spot.
Whoever it was, the only thing practicable was to do as the engineer
proposed, to go to the Chimneys and there wait for day. In the meanwhile
Top was ordered to mount guard below the windows of Granite House, and
when Top received an order he obeyed it without any questioning. The
brave dog therefore remained at the foot of the cliff while his master with
his companions sought a refuge among the rocks.
To say that the settlers, notwithstanding their fatigue, slept well on the
sandy floor of the Chimneys would not be true. It was not only that they
were extremely anxious to find out the cause of what had happened,
whether it was the result of an accident which would be discovered at the
return of day, or whether on the contrary it was the work of a human being;
but they also had very uncomfortable beds. That could not be helped,
however, for in some way or other at that moment their dwelling was
occupied, and they could not possibly enter it.
Now Granite House was more than their dwelling, it was their
warehouse. There were all the stores belonging to the colony, weapons,
instruments, tools, ammunition, provisions, etc. To think that all that might
be pillaged and that the settlers would have all their work to do over again,
fresh weapons and tools to make, was a serious matter. Their uneasiness led
one or other of them also to go out every few minutes to see if Top was
keeping good watch. Cyrus Harding alone waited with his habitual
patience, although his strong mind was exasperated at being confronted
with such an inexplicable fact, and he was provoked at himself for allowing
a feeling to which he could not give a name, to gain an influence over him.
Gideon Spilett shared his feelings in this respect, and the two conversed

together in whispers of the inexplicable circumstance which baffled even
their intelligence and experience.
“It is a joke,” said Pencroft; “it is a trick some one has played us. Well, I
don’t like such jokes, and the joker had better look out for himself, if he
falls into my hands, I can tell him.”
As soon as the first gleam of light appeared in the east, the colonists,
suitably armed, repaired to the beach under Granite House. The rising sun
now shone on the cliff and they could see the windows, the shutters of
which were closed, through the curtains of foliage.
All here was in order; but a cry escaped the colonists when they saw that
the door, which they had closed on their departure, was now wide open.
Some one had entered Granite House—there could be no more doubt
about that.
The upper ladder, which generally hung from the door to the landing, was
in its place, but the lower ladder was drawn up and raised to the threshold.
It was evident that the intruders had wished to guard themselves against a
surprise.
Pencroft hailed again.
No reply.
“The beggars,” exclaimed the sailor. “There they are sleeping quietly as
if they were in their own house. Hallo there, you pirates, brigands, robbers,
sons of John Bull!”
When Pencroft, being a Yankee, treated any one to the epithet of “son of
John Bull,” he considered he had reached the last limits of insult.
The sun had now completely risen, and the whole facade of Granite
House became illuminated by its rays; but in the interior as well as on the
exterior all was quiet and calm.
The settlers asked if Granite House was inhabited or not, and yet the
position of the ladder was sufficient to show that it was; it was also certain
that the inhabitants, whoever they might be, had not been able to escape.
But how were they to be got at?
Herbert then thought of fastening a cord to an arrow, and shooting the
arrow so that it should pass between the first rounds of the ladder which
hung from the threshold. By means of the cord they would then be able to

draw down the ladder to the ground, and so re-establish the communication
between the beach and Granite House. There was evidently nothing else to
be done, and, with a little skill, this method might succeed. Very fortunately
bows and arrows had been left at the Chimneys, where they also found a
quantity of light hibiscus cord. Pencroft fastened this to a well-feathered
arrow. Then Herbert fixing it to his bow, took a careful aim for the lower
part of the ladder.
Cyrus Harding, Gideon Spilett, Pencroft, and Neb drew back, so as to see
if anything appeared at the windows. The reporter lifted his gun to his
shoulder and covered the door.
The bow was bent, the arrow flew, taking the cord with it, and passed
between the two last rounds.
The operation had succeeded.
Herbert immediately seized the end of the cord, but, at that moment when
he gave it a pull to bring down the ladder, an arm, thrust suddenly out
between the wall and the door, grasped it and dragged it inside Granite
House.
“The rascals!” shouted the sailor. “If a ball can do anything for you, you
shall not have long to wait for it.
“But who was it?” asked Neb.
“Who was it? Didn’t you see?”
“No.”
“It was a monkey, a sapajou, an orangoutang, a baboon, a gorilla, a
sagoin. Our dwelling has been invaded by monkeys, who climbed up the
ladder during our absence.”
And, at this moment, as if to bear witness to the truth of the sailor’s
words, two or three quadrumana showed themselves at the windows, from
which they had pushed back the shutters, and saluted the real proprietors of
the place with a thousand hideous grimaces.
“I knew that it was only a joke,” cried Pencroft; “but one of the jokers
shall pay the penalty for the rest.”
So saying, the sailor, raising his piece, took a rapid aim at one of the
monkeys and fired. All disappeared, except one who fell mortally wounded
on the beach. This monkey, which was of a large size, evidently belonged to

the first order of the quadrumana. Whether this was a chimpanzee, an
orangoutang, or a gorilla, he took rank among the anthropoid apes, who are
so called from their resemblance to the human race. However, Herbert
declared it to be an orangoutang.
“What a magnificent beast!” cried Neb.
“Magnificent, if you like,” replied Pencroft; “but still I do not see how
we are to get into our house.”
“Herbert is a good marksman,” said the reporter, “and his bow is here. He
can try again.”
“Why, these apes are so cunning,” returned Pencroft; “they won’t show
themselves again at the windows and so we can’t kill them; and when I
think of the mischief they may do in the rooms and storehouse—”
“Have patience,” replied Harding; “these creatures cannot keep us long at
bay.”
“I shall not be sure of that till I see them down here,” replied the sailor.
“And now, captain, do you know how many dozens of these fellows are up
there?”
It was difficult to reply to Pencroft, and as for the young boy making
another attempt, that was not easy; for the lower part of the ladder had been
drawn again into the door, and when another pull was given, the line broke
and the ladder remained firm. The case was really perplexing. Pencroft
stormed. There was a comic side to the situation, but he did not think it
funny at all. It was certain that the settlers would end by reinstating
themselves in their domicile and driving out the intruders, but when and
how? this is what they were not able to say.
Two hours passed, during which the apes took care not to show
themselves, but they were still there, and three or four times a nose or a paw
was poked out at the door or windows, and was immediately saluted by a
gun-shot.
“Let us hide ourselves,” at last said the engineer. “Perhaps the apes will
think we have gone quite away and will show themselves again. Let Spilett
and Herbert conceal themselves behind those rocks and fire on all that may
appear.”
The engineer’s orders were obeyed, and while the reporter and the lad,
the best marksmen in the colony, posted themselves in a good position, but