The Mysterious Island
Then more humbly,--
“Alas!”
“No! no!” exclaimed Harding with animation, “no, Ayrton, Pencroft does
not mistrust you. You interpret his words wrongly.”
“Indeed,” returned the sailor, “I only propose to accompany Ayrton as
far as the islet. It may be, although it is scarcely possible, that one
of these villains has landed, and in that case two men will not be too
many to hinder him from giving the alarm. I will wait for Ayrton on the
islet, and he shall go alone to the vessel, since he has proposed to do
so.” These things agreed to, Ayrton made preparations for his departure.
His plan was bold, but it might succeed, thanks to the darkness of the
night. Once arrived at the vessel’s side, Ayrton, holding on to the main
chains, might reconnoiter the number and perhaps overhear the intentions
of the pirates.
Ayrton and Pencroft, followed by their companions, descended to the
beach. Ayrton undressed and rubbed himself with grease, so as to suffer
less from the temperature of the water, which was still cold. He might,
indeed, be obliged to remain in it for several hours.
Pencroft and Neb, during this time, had gone to fetch the boat, moored
a few hundred feet higher up, on the bank of the Mercy, and by the time
they returned, Ayrton was ready to start. A coat was thrown over his
shoulders, and the settlers all came round him to press his hand.
Ayrton then shoved off with Pencroft in the boat.
It was half-past ten in the evening when the two adventurers disappeared
in the darkness. Their companions returned to wait at the Chimneys.
The channel was easily traversed, and the boat touched the opposite
shore of the islet. This was not done without precaution, for fear lest
the pirates might be roaming about there. But after a careful survey,
it was evident that the islet was deserted. Ayrton then, followed by
Pencroft, crossed it with a rapid step, scaring the birds nestled in the
holes of the rocks; then, without hesitating, he plunged into the sea,
and swam noiselessly in the direction of the ship, in which a few lights
had recently appeared, showing her exact situation. As to Pencroft,
he crouched down in a cleft of the rock, and awaited the return of his
companion.
In the meanwhile, Ayrton, swimming with a vigorous stroke, glided
through the sheet of water without producing the slightest ripple. His
head just emerged above it and his eyes were fixed on the dark hull of
the brig, from which the lights were reflected in the water. He thought
only of the duty which he had promised to accomplish, and nothing of the
danger which he ran, not only on board the ship, but in the sea, often
frequented by sharks. The current bore him along and he rapidly receded
from the shore.
Half an hour afterwards, Ayrton, without having been either seen or
heard, arrived at the ship and caught hold of the main-chains. He took
breath, then, hoisting himself up, he managed to reach the extremity of
the cutwater. There were drying several pairs of sailors’ trousers. He
put on a pair. Then settling himself firmly, he listened. They were not
sleeping on board the brig. On the contrary, they were talking, singing,
laughing. And these were the sentences, accompanied with oaths, which
principally struck Ayrton:--
“Our brig is a famous acquisition.”
“She sails well, and merits her name of the ‘Speedy.’”
“She would show all the navy of Norfolk a clean pair of heels.”
“Hurrah for her captain!”
“Hurrah for Bob Harvey!”
What Ayrton felt when he overheard this fragment of conversation may be
understood when it is known that in this Bob Harvey he recognized one
of his old Australian companions, a daring sailor, who had continued his
criminal career. Bob Harvey had seized, on the shores of Norfolk Island
this brig, which was loaded with arms, ammunition, utensils, and tools
of all sorts, destined for one of the Sandwich Islands. All his gang had
gone on board, and pirates after having been convicts, these wretches,
more ferocious than the Malays themselves, scoured the Pacific,
destroying vessels, and massacring their crews.
The convicts spoke loudly, they recounted their deeds, drinking deeply
at the same time, and this is what Ayrton gathered. The actual crew
of the “Speedy” was composed solely of English prisoners, escaped from
Norfolk Island.
Here it may be well to explain what this island was. In 29deg 2’ south
latitude, and 165deg 42’ east longitude, to the east of Australia, is
found a little island, six miles in circumference, overlooked by Mount
Pitt, which rises to a height of 1,100 feet above the level of the sea.
This is Norfolk Island, once the seat of an establishment in which were
lodged the most intractable convicts from the English penitentiaries.
They numbered 500, under an iron discipline, threatened with terrible
punishments, and were guarded by 150 soldiers, and 150 employed
under the orders of the governor. It would be difficult to imagine
a collection of greater ruffians. Sometimes,--although very
rarely,--notwithstanding the extreme surveillance of which they were
the object, many managed to escape, and seizing vessels which they
surprised, they infested the Polynesian Archipelagoes.
Thus had Bob Harvey and his companions done. Thus had Ayrton formerly
wished to do. Bob Harvey had seized the brig “Speedy,” anchored in sight
of Norfolk Island; the crew had been massacred; and for a year this ship
had scoured the Pacific, under the command of Harvey, now a pirate, and
well known to Ayrton!
The convicts were, for the most part, assembled under the poop; but a
few, stretched on the deck, were talking loudly.
The conversation still continued amid shouts and libations. Ayrton
learned that chance alone had brought the “Speedy” in sight of Lincoln
Island; Bob Harvey had never yet set foot on it; but, as Cyrus Harding
had conjectured, finding this unknown land in his course, its position
being marked on no chart, he had formed the project of visiting it, and,
if he found it suitable, of making it the brig’s headquarters.
As to the black flag hoisted at the “Speedy’s” peak, and the gun which
had been fired, in imitation of men-of-war when they lower their
colors, it was pure piratical bravado. It was in no way a signal, and no
communication yet existed between the convicts and Lincoln Island.
The settlers’ domain was now menaced with terrible danger. Evidently
the island, with its water, its harbor, its resources of all kinds so
increased in value by the colonists, and the concealment afforded by
Granite House, could not but be convenient for the convicts; in their
hands it would become an excellent place of refuge, and, being unknown,
it would assure them, for a long time perhaps, impunity and security.
Evidently, also, the lives of the settlers would not be respected, and
Bob Harvey and his accomplices’ first care would be to massacre them
without mercy. Harding and his companions had, therefore, not even the
choice of flying and hiding themselves in the island, since the convicts
intended to reside there, and since, in the event of the “Speedy”
departing on an expedition, it was probable that some of the crew would
remain on shore, so as to settle themselves there. Therefore, it
would be necessary to fight, to destroy every one of these scoundrels,
unworthy of pity, and against whom any means would be right. So thought
Ayrton, and he well knew that Cyrus Harding would be of his way of
thinking.
But was resistance and, in the last place, victory possible? That would
depend on the equipment of the brig, and the number of men which she
carried.
This Ayrton resolved to learn at any cost, and as an hour after his
arrival the vociferations had begun to die away, and as a large number
of the convicts were already buried in a drunken sleep, Ayrton did not
hesitate to venture onto the “Speedy’s” deck, which the extinguished
lanterns now left in total darkness. He hoisted himself onto the
cutwater, and by the bowsprit arrived at the forecastle. Then, gliding
among the convicts stretched here and there, he made the round of the
ship, and found that the “Speedy” carried four guns, which would throw
shot of from eight to ten pounds in weight. He found also, on touching
them that these guns were breech-loaders. They were therefore, of modern
make, easily used, and of terrible effect.
As to the men lying on the deck, they were about ten in number, but
it was to be supposed that more were sleeping down below. Besides, by
listening to them, Ayrton had understood that there were fifty on
board. That was a large number for the six settlers of Lincoln Island to
contend with! But now, thanks to Ayrton’s devotion, Cyrus Harding would
not be surprised, he would know the strength of his adversaries, and
would make his arrangements accordingly.
There was nothing more for Ayrton to do but to return, and render to his
companions an account of the mission with which he had charged himself,
and he prepared to regain the bows of the brig, so that he might let
himself down into the water. But to this man, whose wish was, as he had
said, to do more than his duty, there came an heroic thought. This was
to sacrifice his own life, but save the island and the colonists. Cyrus
Harding evidently could not resist fifty ruffians, all well armed, who,
either by penetrating by main force into Granite House, or by starving
out the besieged, could obtain from them what they wanted. And then he
thought of his preservers--those who had made him again a man, and an
honest mm, those to whom he owed all--murdered without pity, their works
destroyed, their island turned into a pirates’ den! He said to himself
that he, Ayrton, was the principal cause of so many disasters, since his
old companion, Bob Harvey, had but realized his own plans, and a
feeling of horror took possession of him. Then he was seized with an
irresistible desire to blow up the brig and with her, all whom she had
on board. He would perish in the explosion, but he would have done his
duty.
Ayrton did not hesitate. To reach the powder-room, which is always
situated in the after-part of a vessel, was easy. There would be no want
of powder in a vessel which followed such a trade, and a spark would be
enough to destroy it in an instant.
Ayrton stole carefully along the between-decks, strewn with numerous
sleepers, overcome more by drunkenness than sleep. A lantern was lighted
at the foot of the mainmast, round which was hung a gun-rack, furnished
with weapons of all sorts.
Ayrton took a revolver from the rack, and assured himself that it was
loaded and primed. Nothing more was needed to accomplish the work of
destruction. He then glided towards the stern, so as to arrive under the
brig’s poop at the powder-magazine.
It was difficult to proceed along the dimly lighted deck without
stumbling over some half-sleeping convict, who retorted by oaths and
kicks. Ayrton was, therefore, more than once obliged to halt. But at
last he arrived at the partition dividing the aftercabin, and found the
door opening into the magazine itself.
Ayrton, compelled to force it open, set to work. It was a difficult
operation to perform without noise, for he had to break a padlock. But
under his vigorous hand, the padlock broke, and the door was open.
At that moment a hand was laid on Ayrton’s shoulder.
“What are you doing here?” asked a tall man, in a harsh voice, who,
standing in the shadow, quickly threw the light of a lantern in Ayrton’s
face.
Ayrton drew back. In the rapid flash of the lantern, he had recognized
his former accomplice, Bob Harvey, who could not have known him, as he
must have thought Ayrton long since dead.
“What are you doing here?” again said Bob Harvey, seizing Ayrton by the
waistband.