The Mysterious Island
wreck. It was to be regretted that the brig’s two boats had not been
saved; but one, as has been said, had gone to pieces at the mouth of the
Mercy, and was absolutely useless; the other had disappeared when the
brig went down, and had not again been seen, having doubtless been
crushed.
The hull of the “Speedy” was just beginning to issue from the water.
The brig was lying right over on her side, for her masts being broken,
pressed down by the weight of the ballast displaced by the shock, the
keel was visible along her whole length. She had been regularly turned
over by the inexplicable but frightful submarine action, which had been
at the same time manifested by an enormous water-spout.
The settlers rowed round the hull, and in proportion as the tide went
down, they could ascertain, if not the cause which had occasioned the
catastrophe, at least the effect produced.
Towards the bows, on both sides of the keel, seven or eight feet from
the beginning of the stem, the sides of the brig were frightfully torn.
Over a length of at least twenty feet there opened two large leaks,
which would be impossible to stop up. Not only had the copper sheathing
and the planks disappeared, reduced, no doubt, to powder, but also the
ribs, the iron bolts, and treenails which united them. From the entire
length of the hull to the stern the false keel had been separated with
an unaccountable violence, and the keel itself, torn from the carline in
several places, was split in all its length.
“I’ve a notion!” exclaimed Pencroft, “that this vessel will be difficult
to get afloat again.”
“It will be impossible,” said Ayrton.
“At any rate,” observed Gideon Spilett to the sailor, “the explosion,
if there has been one, has produced singular effects! It has split the
lower part of the hull, instead of blowing up the deck and topsides!
These great rents appear rather to have been made by a rock than by the
explosion of a powder-magazine.”
“There is not a rock in the channel!” answered the sailor. “I will admit
anything you like, except the rock.”
“Let us try to penetrate into the interior of the brig,” said the
engineer; “perhaps we shall then know what to think of the cause of her
destruction.”
This was the best thing to be done, and it was agreed, besides, to
take an inventory of all the treasures on board, and to arrange their
preservation.
Access to the interior of the brig was now easy. The tide was still
going down and the deck was practicable. The ballast, composed of heavy
masses of iron, had broken through in several places. The noise of the
sea could be heard as it rushed out at the holes in the hull.
Cyrus Harding and his companions, hatchets in hand, advanced along the
shattered deck. Cases of all sorts encumbered it, and, as they had
been but a very short time in the water, their contents were perhaps
uninjured.
They then busied themselves in placing all this cargo in safety. The
water would not return for several hours, and these hours must be
employed in the most profitable way. Ayrton and Pencroft had, at the
entrance made in the hull, discovered tackle, which would serve to hoist
up the barrels and chests. The boat received them and transported them
to the shore. They took the articles as they came, intending to sort
them afterwards.
At any rate, the settlers saw at once, with extreme satisfaction, that
the brig possessed a very varied cargo--an assortment of all sorts of
articles, utensils, manufactured goods, and tools--such as the ships
which make the great coasting-trade of Polynesia are usually laden with.
It was probable that they would find a little of everything, and they
agreed that it was exactly what was necessary for the colony of Lincoln
Island.
However--and Cyrus Harding observed it in silent astonishment--not only,
as has been said, had the hull of the brig enormously suffered from the
shock, whatever it was, that had occasioned the catastrophe, but the
interior arrangements had been destroyed, especially towards the bows.
Partitions and stanchions were smashed, as if some tremendous shell had
burst in the interior of the brig. The colonists could easily go fore
and aft, after having removed the cases as they were extricated. They
were not heavy bales, which would have been difficult to remove,
but simple packages, of which the stowage, besides, was no longer
recognizable.
The colonists then reached the stern of the brig--the part formerly
surmounted by the poop. It was there that, following Ayrton’s
directions, they must look for the powder-magazine. Cyrus Harding
thought that it had not exploded; that it was possible some barrels
might be saved, and that the powder, which is usually enclosed in metal
coverings might not have suffered from contact with the water.
This, in fact, was just what had happened. They extricated from among
a large number of shot twenty barrels, the insides of which were lined
with copper. Pencroft was convinced by the evidence of his own eyes that
the destruction of the “Speedy” could not be attributed to an explosion.
That part of the hull in which the magazine was situated was, moreover,
that which had suffered least.
“It may be so,” said the obstinate sailor; “but as to a rock, there is
not one in the channel!”
“Then, how did it happen?” asked Herbert.
“I don’t know,” answered Pencroft, “Captain Harding doesn’t know, and
nobody knows or ever will know!”
Several hours had passed during these researches, and the tide began to
flow. Work must be suspended for the present. There was no fear of the
brig being carried away by the sea, for she was already fixed as firmly
as if moored by her anchors.
They could, therefore, without inconvenience, wait until the next day to
resume operations; but, as to the vessel itself, she was doomed, and it
would be best to hasten to save the remains of her hull, as she would
not be long in disappearing in the quicksands of the channel.
It was now five o’clock in the evening. It had been a hard day’s work
for the men. They ate with good appetite, and notwithstanding their
fatigue, they could not resist, after dinner, their desire of inspecting
the cases which composed the cargo of the “Speedy.”
Most of them contained clothes, which, as may be believed, was well
received. There were enough to clothe a whole colony--linen for every
one’s use, shoes for every one’s feet.
“We are too rich!” exclaimed Pencroft, “But what are we going to do with
all this?”
And every moment burst forth the hurrahs of the delighted sailor when he
caught sight of the barrels of gunpowder, firearms and sidearms,
balls of cotton, implements of husbandry, carpenter’s, joiner’s, and
blacksmith’s tools, and boxes of all kinds of seeds, not in the least
injured by their short sojourn in the water. Ah, two years before,
how these things would have been prized! And now, even though the
industrious colonists had provided themselves with tools, these
treasures would find their use.
There was no want of space in the store-rooms of Granite House, but that
daytime would not allow them to stow away the whole. It would not do
also to forget that the six survivors of the “Speedy’s” crew had landed
on the island, for they were in all probability scoundrels of the
deepest dye, and it was necessary that the colonists should be on their
guard against them. Although the bridges over the Mercy were raised,
the convicts would not be stopped by a river or a stream and, rendered
desperate, these wretches would be capable of anything.
They would see later what plan it would be best to follow; but in the
meantime it was necessary to mount guard over cases and packages heaped
up near the Chimneys, and thus the settlers employed themselves in turn
during the night.
The morning came, however, without the convicts having attempted any
attack. Master Jup and Top, on guard at the foot of Granite House, would
have quickly given the alarm. The three following days--the 19th, 20th,
and 21st of October--were employed in saving everything of value, or of
any use whatever, either from the cargo or rigging of the brig. At low
tide they overhauled the hold--at high tide they stowed away the rescued
articles. A great part of the copper sheathing had been torn from the
hull, which every day sank lower. But before the sand had swallowed the
heavy things which had fallen through the bottom, Ayrton and Pencroft,
diving to the bed of the channel, recovered the chains and anchors of
the brig, the iron of her ballast, and even four guns, which, floated by
means of empty casks, were brought to shore.
It may be seen that the arsenal of the colony had gained by the
wreck, as well as the storerooms of Granite House. Pencroft, always
enthusiastic in his projects, already spoke of constructing a battery
to command the channel and the mouth of the river. With four guns,
he engaged to prevent any fleet, “however powerful it might be,” from
venturing into the waters of Lincoln Island!
In the meantime, when nothing remained of the brig but a useless hulk,
bad weather came on, which soon finished her. Cyrus Harding had intended
to blow her up, so as to collect the remains on the shore, but a strong
gale from the northeast and a heavy sea compelled him to economize his
powder.
In fact, on the night of the 23rd, the hull entirely broke up, and some
of the wreck was cast up on the beach.
As to the papers on board, it is useless to say that, although he
carefully searched the lockers of the poop, Harding did not discover
any trace of them. The pirates had evidently destroyed everything that
concerned either the captain or the owners of the “Speedy,” and, as the
name of her port was not painted on her counter, there was nothing which
would tell them her nationality. However, by the shape of her boats
Ayrton and Pencroft believed that the brig was of English build.
A week after the castrophe--or, rather, after the fortunate, though
inexplicable, event to which the colony owed its preservation--nothing
more could be seen of the vessel, even at low tide. The wreck had
disappeared, and Granite House was enriched by nearly all it had
contained.
However, the mystery which enveloped its strange destruction would
doubtless never have been cleared away if, on the 30th of November, Neb,
strolling on the beach, had not found a piece of a thick iron cylinder,
bearing traces of explosion. The edges of this cylinder were twisted and
broken, as if they had been subjected to the action of some explosive
substance.
Neb brought this piece of metal to his master, who was then occupied
with his companions in the workshop of the Chimneys.
Cyrus Harding examined the cylinder attentively, then, turning to
Pencroft,--
“You persist, my friend,” said he, “in maintaining that the ‘Speedy’ was
not lost in consequence of a collision?”
“Yes, captain,” answered the sailor. “You know as well as I do that
there are no rocks in the channel.”
“But suppose she had run against this piece of iron?” said the engineer,
showing the broken cylinder.
“What, that bit of pipe!” exclaimed Pencroft in a tone of perfect
incredulity.
“My friends,” resumed Harding, “you remember that before she foundered
the brig rose on the summit of a regular waterspout?”
“Yes, captain,” replied Herbert.
“Well, would you like to know what occasioned that waterspout? It was
this,” said the engineer, holding up the broken tube.
“That?” returned Pencroft.
“Yes! This cylinder is all that remains of a torpedo!”
“A torpedo!” exclaimed the engineer’s companions.
“And who put the torpedo there?” demanded Pencroft, who did not like to
yield.
“All that I can tell you is, that it was not I,” answered Cyrus Harding;
“but it was there, and you have been able to judge of its incomparable
power!”