The Mysterious Island, Jules Verne [inspiring books for teens TXT] 📗

And it was agreed that henceforth, as a minute exploration of the island was to be made, they would not sail at night, but cast anchor every evening at the most available point.

The wind fell as night approached, and the silence was unbroken. The little party, excepting Pencroff, slept less comfortably than in their beds at Granite House, but still they slept; and at daylight the next morning the sailor raised anchor, and, with a free wind, skirted the shore.

The colonists knew this magnificently wooded border, as they had traversed it formerly, on foot; but its appearance excited renewed admiration. They ran as close in as possible, and moderated their speed in order to observe it carefully. Often, they would cast anchor that Spilett might take photographic views of the superb scenery.

About noon the Good Luck arrived at the mouth of the Fall River. Above, upon the right bank, the trees were less numerous, and three miles further on they grew in mere isolated groups between the western spurs of the mountain, whose arid declivities extended to the very edge of the ocean.

How great was the contrast between the southern and the northern portions of this coast! The one wooded and verdant, the other harsh and savage! It was what they call in certain countries, an “iron-bound coast,” and its tempestuous aspect seemed to indicate a sudden crystallization of the boiling basalt in the geologic epochs. How appalling would this hideous mass have been to the colonists if they had chanced to have been thrown on this part of the island! When they were on Mount Franklin, their position had been too elevated for them to recognize the awfully forbidding aspect of this shore; but, viewed from the sea, it presented an appearance, the like of which cannot be seen, perhaps, in any portion of the globe.

The sloop passed for half a mile before this coast. It was composed of blocks of all dimensions from twenty to thirty feet high, and of all sorts of shapes, towers, steeples, pyramids, obelisks, and cones. The ice-bergs of the polar seas could not have been thrown together in more frightful confusion! Here, the rocks formed bridges, there, nave-like arches, of indistinguishable depth; in one place, were excavations resembling monumental vaults, in another a crowd of points outnumbering the pinnacles of a Gothic cathedral. All the caprices of nature, more varied than those of the imagination, were here displayed over a distance of eight or nine miles.

Smith and companions gazed with a surprise approaching stupefaction. But, though they rested mute, Top kept up an incessant barking, which awoke a thousand echoes. The engineer noticed the same strangeness in the dog’s action as he showed at the month of the well in Granite House.

“Go alongside,” said Smith.

And the Good Luck ran in as close to the rocks as possible. Perhaps there was some cavern here which it would be well to explore. But Smith saw nothing, not even a hollow which could serve as a retreat for any living thing, and the base of the rocks was washed by the surf of the sea. After a time the dog stopped barking, and the sloop kept off again at some cable lengths from the shore.

In the northwest portion of the island the shore became flat and sandy. A few trees rose above the low and swampy ground, the home of myriads of aquatic birds.

In the evening the sloop moored in a slight hollow of the shore, to the north of the island. She was close into the bank, as the water here was of great depth. The breeze died away with nightfall, and the night passed without incident.

The next morning Spilett and Herbert went ashore for a couple of hours and brought back many bunches of ducks and snipe, and by 8 o’clock the Good Luck, with a fair, freshening breeze, was speeding on her way to North Mandible Cape.

“I should not be surprised,” said Pencroff, “if we had a squall. Yesterday the sun set red, and, this morning, the cats-tails foreboded no good.”

These “cats-tails”—were slender cyrrhi, scattered high above, in the zenith. These feathery messengers usually announce the near disturbance of the elements.

“Very well, then,” said Smith, “crowd on all sail and make for Shark Gulf. There, I think the sloop will be safe.”

“Perfectly,” replied the sailor, “and, moreover, the north coast is nothing but uninteresting downs.”

“I shall not regret,” added the engineer, “passing, not only the night, but also tomorrow in that bay, which deserves to be explored with care.”

“I guess we’ll have to, whether we want to or no,” replied Pencroff, “as it is beginning to be threatening in the west. See how dirty it looks!”

“Any how, we have a good wind to make Mandible Cape,” observed the reporter.

“First rate; but, we will have to tack to get into the gulf, and I would rather have clear weather in those parts which I know nothing about.”

“Parts which are sown with reefs,” added Herbert, “if I may judge from what we have seen of the coast to the south of the gulf.”

“Pencroff,” said Smith, “do whatever you think best, we leave everything to you.”

“Rest assured, sir,” responded the sailor, “I will not run any unnecessary risk. I would rather have a knife in my vitals, than that my Good Luck should run on a rock!”

“What time is it?” asked Pencroff.

“10 o’clock.”

“And how far is it to the cape?”

“About fifteen miles.”

“That will take two hours and a half. Unfortunately, the tide then will be going down, and it will be a hard matter to enter the gulf with wind and tide against us.”

“Moreover,” said Herbert, “it is full moon to-day, and these April tides are very strong.”

“But, Pencroff,” asked Smith, “cannot you anchor at the cape?”

“Anchor close to land, with bad weather coming on!” cried the sailor. “That would be to run ourselves ashore.”

“Then what will you do?”

“Keep off, if possible, until the tide turns, which will be about 1 o’clock, and if there is any daylight left try to enter the gulf; if not, we will beat on and off until daylight.”

“I have said, Pencroff, that we will leave everything to your judgment.”

“Ah,” said Pencroff, “if only there was a light-house on this coast it would be easier for sailors.”

“Yes,” answered Herbert, “and this time we have no thoughtful engineer to light a fire to guide us into harbor.”

“By the way, Cyrus,” said Spilett, “we have never thanked you for that; but indeed, without that fire we would not have reached—”

“A fire?” demanded Smith, astounded by the words of the reporter.

“We wish to say, sir,” said Pencroff, “that we would have been in a bad fix on board the Good Luck, when we were nearly back, and that we would have passed to windward of the island unless you had taken the precaution to light a fire, on the night of the 19th of October, upon the plateau above Granite House.”

“Oh, yes, yes! It was a happy thought!” replied Smith.

“And now,” added Pencroff, “unless Ayrton thinks of it, there is not a soul to do us this little service.”

“No—no one!” replied Smith.

And a moment or two later, being alone with Spilett, the engineer whispered to him:—

“If there is anything sure in this world, Spilett, it is that I never lit a fire on that night, either on the plateau or anywhere else!”

CHAPTER XLII.

NIGHT AT SEA—SHARK GULF—CONFIDENCES—PREPARATIONS FOR WINTER—EARLY ADVENT OF BAD WEATHER—COLD—IN-DOOR WORK—SIX MONTHS LATER—A SPECK ON THE PHOTOGRAPH—AN UNEXPECTED EVENT.

The sailor’s predictions were well founded. The breeze changed to a strong blow such as would hare caused a ship in the open sea to have lowered her topmasts and sailed under close reefs. The sloop was opposite the gulf at 6 o’clock, but the tide was running out, so all that Pencroff could do was to bend the jib down to the mainmast as a stay-sail and lie to with the bows of the Good Luck pointing on shore.

Fortunately, although the wind was strong, the ocean, protected by the coast, was not very rough, and there was no danger from heavy seas, which would have tried the staunchness of the little craft. Pencroff, although he had every confidence in his boat, waited anxiously for daylight.

During the night Smith and Spilett had not another opportunity to talk alone, although the whispered words of the engineer made the reporter anxious to discuss with him again the mysterious influence which seemed to pervade Lincoln Island. Spilett could not rid himself of the thought of this new and inexplicable incident. He and his companions also had certainly seen this light, and yet Smith declared that he knew nothing about it.

He determined to return to this subject as soon as they returned home, and to urge Smith to inform their companions of these strange events. Perhaps, then, they would decide to make, altogether, a thorough search into every part of the island.

Whatever it was, no light appeared upon these unknown shores during this night, and at daylight the wind, which had moderated somewhat, shifted a couple of points, and permitted Pencroff to enter the gulf without difficulty. About 7 o’clock the Good Luck passed into these waters enclosed in a grotesque frame of lava.

“Here,” said Pencroff, “is a fine roadstead, where fleets could ride at ease.”

“It is curious,” remarked Smith, “that this gulf has been formed by two successive streams of lava, completely enclosing its waters; and it is probable that, in the worst weather, the sea here is perfectly calm.”

“It is a little too large for the Good Luck,” remarked the reporter.

“I admit that,” replied the sailor, “but if the navy of the United States needed a shelter in the Pacific, I don’t think they could find a better roadstead than this!”

“We are in the shark’s jaws,” said Neb, alluding to the form of the gulf.

“We are, indeed,” replied Herbert; “but, Neb, you are not afraid that they will close on us?”

“No, sir, not that; and yet I don’t like the looks of the place. It has a wicked aspect.”

“So Neb begins running down my roadstead just as I was thinking to offer it to the United States!” cried Pencroff.

“But are its waters deep enough?” asked the engineer.

“That is easily seen,” answered the sailor, taking the sounding line, which measured fifty fathoms, and letting it down. It unrolled to the end without touching bottom.

“There,” said Pencroff, “our iron-clads could come here without running aground!”

“In truth,” said Smith, “this gulf is an abyss; but when we remember the plutonic origin of the island, that is not extraordinary.”

“One might think,” said Herbert, “that these walls had been cut with an instrument, and I believe that at their very base, even with a line six times as long, we could not reach the bottom.”

“All this is very well,” said the reporter, “but I would suggest that Pencroff’s roadstead lacks one important element.”

“What is that?”

“A cut, or pathway of some kind, by which one could go inland. I do not see a place where there is even a foothold.”

And, indeed, these steep lava walls afforded no landing place on all their circumference. The Good Luck, skirting within touching distance of the lava, found no place where the passengers could disembark.

Pencroff consoled himself by saying that they could blow up the wall, if they wanted to, and then, as there was certainly nothing to be done here, he turned towards the narrow opening, which was passed at 2 o’clock.

Neb gave a long sigh of relief. It was evident that the brave negro had not been comfortable in those enormous jaws!

The sloop was now headed for Granite House, eight miles distant, and, with a fair wind, coasted along within a mile of the shore. The enormous lava rocks were soon succeeded by the oddly-disposed downs, among which the engineer had been so singularly discovered, and the place was covered with sea-birds.

Towards 4 o’clock, Pencroff, leaving the islet to the left, entered the channel