The Mysterious Island
sand, very uninteresting to look at.”
“I shall not be sorry,” resumed the engineer, “to pass not only to-night
but to-morrow in that bay, which is worth being carefully explored.”
“I think that we shall be obliged to do so, whether we like it or not,”
answered Pencroft, “for the sky looks very threatening towards the west.
Dirty weather is coming on!”
“At any rate we have a favorable wind for reaching Cape Mandible,”
observed the reporter.
“A very fine wind,” replied the sailor; “but we must tack to enter the
gulf, and I should like to see my way clear in these unknown quarters.”
“Quarters which appear to be filled with rocks,” added Herbert, “if we
judge by what we saw on the south coast of Shark Gulf.”
“Pencroft,” said Cyrus Harding, “do as you think best, we will leave it
to you.”
“Don’t make your mind uneasy, captain,” replied the sailor, “I shall not
expose myself needlessly! I would rather a knife were run into my ribs
than a sharp rock into those of my ‘Bonadventure!’”
That which Pencroft called ribs was the part of his vessel under water,
and he valued it more than his own skin.
“What o’clock is it?” asked Pencroft.
“Ten o’clock,” replied Gideon Spilett.
“And what distance is it to the Cape, captain?”
“About fifteen miles,” replied the engineer.
“That’s a matter of two hours and a half,” said the sailor, “and we
shall be off the Cape between twelve and one o’clock. Unluckily, the
tide will be turning at that moment, and will be ebbing out of the gulf.
I am afraid that it will be very difficult to get in, having both wind
and tide against us.”
“And the more so that it is a full moon to-day,” remarked Herbert, “and
these April tides are very strong.”
“Well, Pencroft,” asked Harding, “can you not anchor off the Cape?”
“Anchor near land, with bad weather coming on!” exclaimed the sailor.
“What are you thinking of, captain? We should run aground, of a
certainty!”
“What will you do then?”
“I shall try to keep in the offing until the flood, that is to say, till
about seven in the evening, and if there is still light enough I will
try to enter the gulf; if not, we must stand off and on during the
night, and we will enter to-morrow at sunrise.”
“As I told you, Pencroft, we will leave it to you,” answered Harding.
“Ah!” said Pencroft, “if there was only a lighthouse on the coast, it
would be much more convenient for sailors.”
“Yes,” replied Herbert, “and this time we shall have no obliging
engineer to light a fire to guide us into port!”
“Why, indeed, my dear Cyrus,” said Spilett, “we have never thanked you;
but frankly, without that fire we should never have been able--”
“A fire?” asked Harding, much astonished at the reporter’s words.
“We mean, captain,” answered Pencroft, “that on board the ‘Bonadventure’
we were very anxious during the few hours before our return, and we
should have passed to windward of the island, if it had not been for the
precaution you took of lighting a fire the night of the 19th of October,
on Prospect Heights.”
“Yes, yes! That was a lucky idea of mine!” replied the engineer.
“And this time,” continued the sailor, “unless the idea occurs to
Ayrton, there will be no one to do us that little service!”
“No! No one!” answered Cyrus Harding.
A few minutes after, finding himself alone in the bows of the vessel,
with the reporter, the engineer bent down and whispered,--
“If there is one thing certain in this world, Spilett, it is that I
never lighted any fire during the night of the 19th of October, neither
on Prospect Heights nor on any other part of the island!”
Chapter 20
Things happened as Pencroft had predicted, he being seldom mistaken in
his prognostications. The wind rose, and from a fresh breeze it soon
increased to a regular gale; that is to say, it acquired a speed of from
forty to forty-five miles an hour, before which a ship in the open sea
would have run under close-reefed topsails. Now, as it was nearly six
o’clock when the “Bonadventure” reached the gulf, and as at that
moment the tide turned, it was impossible to enter. They were therefore
compelled to stand off, for even if he had wished to do so, Pencroft
could not have gained the mouth of the Mercy. Hoisting the jib to the
mainmast by way of a storm-sail, he hove to, putting the head of the
vessel towards the land.
Fortunately, although the wind was strong the sea, being sheltered by
the land, did not run very high. They had then little to fear from
the waves, which always endanger small craft. The “Bonadventure” would
doubtlessly not have capsized, for she was well ballasted, but enormous
masses of water falling on the deck might injure her if her timbers
could not sustain them. Pencroft, as a good sailor, was prepared
for anything. Certainly, he had great confidence in his vessel, but
nevertheless he awaited the return of day with some anxiety.
During the night, Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett had no opportunity
for talking together, and yet the words pronounced in the reporter’s
ear by the engineer were well worth being discussed, together with the
mysterious influence which appeared to reign over Lincoln Island. Gideon
Spilett did not cease from pondering over this new and inexplicable
incident, the appearance of a fire on the coast of the island. The fire
had actually been seen! His companions, Herbert and Pencroft, had seen
it with him! The fire had served to signalize the position of the island
during that dark night, and they had not doubted that it was lighted by
the engineer’s hand; and here was Cyrus Harding expressly declaring that
he had never done anything of the sort! Spilett resolved to recur to
this incident as soon as the “Bonadventure” returned, and to urge Cyrus
Harding to acquaint their companions with these strange facts. Perhaps
it would be decided to make in common a complete investigation of every
part of Lincoln Island.
However that might be, on this evening no fire was lighted on these yet
unknown shores, which formed the entrance to the gulf, and the little
vessel stood off during the night.
When the first streaks of dawn appeared in the western horizon, the
wind, which had slightly fallen, shifted two points, and enabled
Pencroft to enter the narrow gulf with greater ease. Towards seven
o’clock in the morning, the “Bonadventure,” weathering the North
Mandible Cape, entered the strait and glided on to the waters, so
strangely enclosed in the frame of lava.
“Well,” said Pencroft, “this bay would make admirable roads, in which a
whole fleet could lie at their ease!”
“What is especially curious,” observed Harding, “is that the gulf
has been formed by two rivers of lava, thrown out by the volcano, and
accumulated by successive eruptions. The result is that the gulf is
completely sheltered on all sides, and I believe that even in the
stormiest weather, the sea here must be as calm as a lake.”
“No doubt,” returned the sailor, “since the wind has only that narrow
entrance between the two capes to get in by, and, besides, the north
cape protects that of the south in a way which would make the entrance
of gusts very difficult. I declare our ‘Bonadventure’ could stay here
from one end of the year to the other, without even dragging at her
anchor!”
“It is rather large for her!” observed the reporter.
“Well! Mr. Spilett,” replied the sailor, “I agree that it is too large
for the ‘Bonadventure,’ but if the fleets of the Union were in want of a
harbor in the Pacific, I don’t think they would ever find a better place
than this!”
“We are in the shark’s mouth,” remarked Neb, alluding to the form of the
gulf.
“Right into its mouth, my honest Neb!” replied Herbert, “but you are not
afraid that it will shut upon us, are you?”
“No, Mr. Herbert,” answered Neb, “and yet this gulf here doesn’t please
me much! It has a wicked look!”
“Hallo!” cried Pencroft, “here is Neb turning up his nose at my gulf,
just as I was thinking of presenting it to America!”
“But, at any rate, is the water deep enough?” asked the engineer, “for a
depth sufficient for the keel of the ‘Bonadventure’ would not be enough
for those of our iron-clads.”
“That is easily found out,” replied Pencroft.
And the sailor sounded with a long cord, which served him as a
lead-line, and to which was fastened a lump of iron. This cord measured
nearly fifty fathoms, and its entire length was unrolled without finding
any bottom.
“There,” exclaimed Pencroft, “our iron-clads can come here after all!
They would not run aground!”
“Indeed,” said Gideon Spilett, “this gulf is a regular abyss, but,
taking into consideration the volcanic origin of the island, it is not
astonishing that the sea should offer similar depressions.”
“One would say too,” observed Herbert, “that these cliffs were perfectly
perpendicular; and I believe that at their foot, even with a line five
or six times longer, Pencroft would not find bottom.”
“That is all very well,” then said the reporter, “but I must point out
to Pencroft that his harbor is wanting in one very important respect!”
“And what is that, Mr. Spilett?”
“An opening, a cutting of some sort, to give access to the interior of
the island. I do not see a spot on which we could land.” And, in
fact, the steep lava cliffs did not afford a single place suitable for
landing. They formed an insuperable barrier, recalling, but with more
wildness, the fiords of Norway. The “Bonadventure,” coasting as close
as possible along the cliffs, did not discover even a projection which
would allow the passengers to leave the deck.
Pencroft consoled himself by saying that with the help of a mine they
could soon open out the cliff when that was necessary, and then, as
there was evidently nothing to be done in the gulf, he steered his
vessel towards the strait and passed out at about two o’clock in the
afternoon.
“Ah!” said Neb, uttering a sigh of satisfaction.
One might really say that the honest Negro did not feel at his ease in
those enormous jaws.
The distance from Mandible Cape to the mouth of the Mercy was not more
than eight miles. The head of the “Bonadventure” was put towards Granite
House, and a fair wind filling her sails, she ran rapidly along the
coast.
To the enormous lava rocks succeeded soon those capricious sand dunes,
among which the engineer had been so singularly recovered, and which
seabirds frequented in thousands.
About four o’clock, Pencroft leaving the point of the islet on his
left, entered the channel which separated it from the coast, and at five
o’clock the anchor of the “Bonadventure” was buried in the sand at the
mouth of the Mercy.
The colonists had been absent three days from their dwelling. Ayrton
was waiting for them on the beach, and Jup came joyously to meet them,
giving vent to deep grunts of satisfaction.
A complete exploration of the coast of the island had now been made,
and no suspicious appearances had been observed. If any mysterious being
resided on it, it could only be under cover of the impenetrable forest
of the Serpentine Peninsula, to which the colonists had not yet directed
their investigations.
Gideon Spilett discussed these things with the engineer, and it was
agreed that they should direct the attention of their companions to the
strange character of certain incidents which had occurred on the island,
and of which the last was the most unaccountable.
However, Harding, returning to the fact of a fire having been kindled on
the shore by an unknown hand, could not refrain from repeating for the
twentieth time to the reporter,--
“But are you quite sure of having seen it? Was it not a partial eruption
of the volcano, or perhaps some meteor?”
“No, Cyrus,” answered the reporter, “it was certainly a fire lighted by