The Mysterious Island, Jules Verne [most popular ebook readers txt] 📗

extremely varied. There must be a reason for this, and mine is, that Lincoln Island was formerly a part of some vast continent, which has, little by little, sunk beneath the surface of the Pacific.” “Then,” said Pencroff, who did not seem entirely convinced, “what remains of this old continent may disappear in its turn and leave nothing between America and Asia.” “Yes,” said Smith, “there will be new continents which millions upon millions of animalculæ are building at this moment.” “And who are these masons?” inquired Pencroff. “The coral insects,” answered Smith. “It is these who have built by their constant labor the Island of Clermont Tonnerre, the Atolls and many other coral islands which abound in the Pacific. It takes 47,000,000 of these insects to deposit one particle; and yet with the marine salt which they absorb, and the solid elements of the water which they assimilate, these animalculæ produce limestone, and limestone forms those enormous submarine structures whose hardness and solidity is equal to that of granite.

Formerly, during the first epochs of creation, Nature employed heat to produce land by upheaval, but now she lets these microscopic insects replace this agent, whose dynamic power at the interior of this globe has evidently diminished. This fact is sufficiently proved by the great number of volcanoes actually extinct on the surface of the earth. I verily believe that century after century, and infusoria after infusoria will change the Pacific some day into a vast continent, which new generations will, in their turn, inhabit and civilize.”

“It will take a long time,” said Pencroff. “Nature has time on her side,” replied the engineer. “But what is the good of new continents?” asked Herbert. “It seems to me that the present extent of habitable countries is enough for mankind. Now Nature does nothing in vain.” “Nothing in vain, indeed,” replied the engineer; “but let us see how we can explain the necessity of new continents in the future, and precisely in these tropical regions occupied by these coral islands. Here is an explanation, which seems to me at least plausible.”

“We are listening, Mr. Smith,” replied Herbert.

“This is my idea: Scientists generally admit that some day the globe must come to an end, or rather the animal and vegetable life will be no longer possible, on account of the intense cold which will prevail. What they cannot agree upon is the cause of this cold. Some think that it will be produced by the cooling of the sun in the course of millions of years; others by the gradual extinction of the internal fires of our own globe, which have a more decided influence than is generally supposed. I hold to this last hypothesis, based upon the fact that the moon is without doubt a refrigerated planet, which is no longer habitable, although the sun continues to pour upon its surface the same amount of heat. If then, the moon is refrigerated, it is because these internal fires, to which like all the stellar world it owes its origin, are entirely extinct. In short, whatever be the cause, our world will certainly some day cool; but this cooling will take place gradually. What will happen then? Why, the temperate zones, at a time more or less distant, will be no more habitable than are the Polar regions now. Then human, as well as animal life, will be driven to latitudes more directly under the influence of the solar rays. An immense emigration will take place. Europe, Central Asia, and North America will little by little be abandoned, as well as Australasia and the lower parts of South America. Vegetation will follow the human emigration. The flora will move towards the equator at the same time with the fauna, the central parts of South America and Africa will become the inhabited continent. The Laplanders and the Samoyedes will find the climate of the Polar Sea on the banks of the Mediterranean. Who can tell but that at this epoch, the equatorial regions will not be too small to contain and nourish the population of the globe. Now, why should not a provident nature, in order from this time, to provide a refuge for this animal and vegetable emigration, lay the foundation, under the equator, of a new continent, and charge these infusoria with the building of it? I have often thought of this, my friends, and I seriously believe that, some day, the aspect of our globe will be completely transformed, that after the upheaval of new continents the seas will cover the old ones, and that in future ages some Columbus will discover in the islands of Chimborazo or the Himalaya, or Mount Blanc, all that remains of an America, an Asia, and a Europe. Then at last, these new continents, in their turn, will become uninhabitable. The heat will die out as does the heat from a body whose soul has departed, and life will disappear from the globe, if not forever, at least for a time. Perhaps then our sphere will rest from its changes, and will prepare in death to live again under nobler conditions.

“But all this my friends, is with the Creator of all things. From the talking of the work of these infusoria I have been led into too deep a scrutiny of the secrets of the future.”

“My dear Cyrus,” said the reporter, “these theories are to me prophesies. Some day they will be accomplished.”

“It is a secret with the Almighty,” replied Smith.

“All this is well and good,” said Pencroff, who had listened with all his ears, “but will you tell me, Mr. Smith, if Lincoln Island has been constructed by these infusoria.”

“No,” replied Smith, “it is of purely volcanic origin.”

“Then it will probably disappear some day. I hope sincerely we won’t be here.”

“No, be easy, Pencroff, we will get away.”

“In the meantime,” said Spilett, “let us settle ourselves as if forever. It is never worth while to do anything by halves.”

This ended the conversation. Breakfast was over, the exploration continued, and the party soon arrived at the beginning of the swampy district.

It was, indeed, a marsh which extended as far as the rounded side forming the southeastern termination of the island, and measuring twenty square miles. The soil was formed of a silicious clay mixed with decayed vegetation. It was covered by confervæ, rushes, sedges, and here and there by beds of herbage, thick as a velvet carpet. In many places frozen pools glistened under the sun’s rays. Neither rains, nor any river swollen by a sudden increase could have produced this water. One would naturally conclude that this swamp was fed by the infiltration of water through the soil. And this was the fact. It was even to be feared that the air here during hot weather, was laden with that miasma which engenders the marsh fever. Above the aquatic herbs on the surface of the stagnant waters, a swarm of birds were flying. A hunter would not have lost a single shot. Wild ducks, teal, and snipe lived there in flocks, and it was easy to approach these fearless creatures. So thick were these birds that a charge of shot would certainly have brought down a dozen of them, but our friends had to content themselves with their bows and arrows. The slaughter was less, but the quiet arrow had the advantage of not frightening the birds, while the sound of fire-arms would have scattered them to every corner of the swamp. The hunters contented themselves this time with a dozen ducks, with white bodies, cinnamon-colored belts, green heads, wings black, white, and red, and feathered beaks. These Herbert recognized as the “Tadorns.” Top did his share well in the capture of these birds, whose name was given this swampy district.

The colonists now had an abundant reserve of aquatic game. When the time should come the only question would be how to make a proper use of them, and it was probable that several species of these birds would be, if not domesticated, at least acclimated, upon the borders of the lake, which would bring them nearer to the place of consumption.

About 5 o’clock in the afternoon Smith and his companions turned their faces homewards. They crossed Tadorn’s Fens, and re-crossed the Mercy upon the ice, arriving at Granite House at 8 o’clock in the evening.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE TRAPS—THE FOXES—THE PECCARIES —THE WIND VEERS TO THE NORTHWEST —THE SNOW-STORM—THE BASKET-MAKERS —THE COLDEST SNAP OF WINTER —CRYSTALLIZATION OF THE SUGAR-MAPLE —THE MYSTERIOUS SHAFTS—THE PROJECTED EXPLORATION—THE PELLET OF LEAD.

The intense cold lasted until the 15th of August, the thermometer never rising above the point hitherto observed. When the atmosphere was calm this low temperature could be easily borne; but when the wind blew, the poor fellows suffered much for want of warmer clothing. Pencroff regretted that Lincoln Island, instead of harboring so many foxes and seals, with no fur to speak of, did not shelter some families of bears.

“Bears,” said he, “are generally well dressed; and I would ask nothing better for the winter than the loan of their warm cloaks.”.

“But perhaps,” said Neb, laughing “These bears would not consent to give you their cloak. Pencroff, these fellows are no Saint Martins.”

“We would make them, Neb, we would make them,” answered Pencroff in a tone of authority.

But these formidable carnivora did not dwell on the island, or if they did, had not yet shown themselves. Herbert, Pencroff, and the reporter were constantly at work getting traps on Prospect Plateau and on the borders of the forest. In the sailor’s opinion any animal whatever would be a prize, and rodents or carnivora, whichever these new traps should entice, would be well received at Granite House. These traps were very simple. They were pits dug in the ground and covered with branches and grass, which hid the openings. At the bottom they placed some bait, whose odor would attract the animals. They used their discretion about the position of their traps, choosing places where numerous footprints indicated the frequent passage of quadrupeds. Every day they went to look at them, and at three different times during the first few days they found in them specimens of those foxes which had been already seen on the right bank of the Mercy.

“Pshaw! there are nothing but foxes in this part of the world,” said Pencroff, as, for the third time, he drew one of these animals out of the pit. “Good-for-nothing beasts;”

“Stop,” said Spilett; “they are good for something.”

“For what?”

“To serve as bait to attract others!”

The reporter was right, and from this time the traps were baited with the dead bodies of foxes. The sailor had made snares out of the threads of curry-jonc, and these snares were more profitable than the traps. It was a rare thing for a day to pass without some rabbit from the warren being captured. It was always a rabbit, but Neb knew how to vary his sauces, and his companions did not complain. However, once or twice in the second week in August, the traps contained other and more useful animals than the foxes. There were some of those wild boars which had been already noticed at the north of the lake. Pencroff had no need to ask if these animals were edible, that was evident from their resemblance to the hog of America and Europe.

“But these are not hogs, let me tell you,” said Herbert.

“My boy,” replied the sailor, handing over the trap and drawing out one of these representatives of the swine family by the little appendage which served for a tail, “do let me believe them to be hogs.”

“Why?”

“Because it pleases me.”

“You are fond of hogs, then, Pencroff?”

“I am very fond of them,” replied the sailor, “especially of their feet, and if any had eight instead of four I would like them twice as much.”

These animals were peccaries, belonging to one of the four genera, which make up that family. This particular species were the “tajassans,” known by there dark color