The Mysterious Island
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.