The Mysterious Island
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.