The Mysterious Island
Chatting thus, Pencroft, Gideon Spilett, and Herbert got on board and
looked about the deck of the “Bonadventure.” All at once, the sailor
having examined the bitts to which the cable of the anchor was
secured,--
“Hallo,” he cried, “this is queer!”
“What is the matter, Pencroft?” asked the reporter.
“The matter is, that it was not I who made this knot!”
And Pencroft showed a rope which fastened the cable to the bitt itself.
“What, it was not you?” asked Gideon Spilett.
“No! I can swear to it. This is a reef knot, and I always make a running
bowline.”
“You must be mistaken, Pencroft.”
“I am not mistaken!” declared the sailor. “My hand does it so naturally,
and one’s hand is never mistaken!”
“Then can the convicts have been on board?” asked Herbert.
“I know nothing about that,” answered Pencroft, “but what is certain,
is that some one has weighed the ‘Bonadventure’s’ anchor and dropped it
again! And look here, here is another proof! The cable of the anchor has
been run out, and its service is no longer at the hawse-hole. I repeat
that some one has been using our vessel!”
“But if the convicts had used her, they would have pillaged her, or
rather gone off with her.”
“Gone off! where to--to Tabor Island?” replied Pencroft. “Do you think,
they would risk themselves in a boat of such small tonnage?”
“We must, besides, be sure that they know of the islet,” rejoined the
reporter.
“However that may be,” said the sailor, “as sure as my name is
Bonadventure Pencroft, of the Vineyard, our ‘Bonadventure’ has sailed
without us!”
The sailor was positive that neither Gideon Spilett nor Herbert could
dispute his statement. It was evident that the vessel had been moved,
more or less, since Pencroft had brought her to Port Balloon. As to the
sailor, he had not the slightest doubt that the anchor had been raised
and then dropped again. Now, what was the use of these two maneuvers,
unless the vessel had been employed in some expedition?
“But how was it we did not see the ‘Bonadventure’ pass in the sight of
the island?” observed the reporter, who was anxious to bring forward
every possible objection.
“Why, Mr. Spilett,” replied the sailor, “they would only have to start
in the night with a good breeze, and they would be out of sight of the
island in two hours.”
“Well,” resumed Gideon Spilett, “I ask again, what object could the
convicts have had in using the ‘Bonadventure,’ and why, after they had
made use of her, should they have brought her back to port?”
“Why, Mr. Spilett,” replied the sailor, “we must put that among the
unaccountable things, and not think anything more about it. The chief
thing is that the ‘Bonadventure’ was there, and she is there now. Only,
unfortunately, if the convicts take her a second time, we shall very
likely not find her again in her place!”
“Then, Pencroft,” said Herbert, “would it not be wisest to bring the
‘Bonadventure’ off to Granite House?”
“Yes and no,” answered Pencroft, “or rather no. The mouth of the Mercy
is a bad place for a vessel, and the sea is heavy there.”
“But by hauling her up on the sand, to the foot of the Chimneys?”
“Perhaps yes,” replied Pencroft. “At any rate, since we must leave
Granite House for a long expedition, I think the ‘Bonadventure’ will be
safer here during our absence, and we shall do best to leave her here
until the island is rid of these blackguards.”
“That is exactly my opinion,” said the reporter. “At any rate in the
event of bad weather, she will not be exposed here as she would be at
the mouth of the Mercy.”
“But suppose the convicts pay her another visit,” said Herbert.
“Well, my boy,” replied Pencroft, “not finding her here, they would not
be long in finding her on the sands of Granite House, and, during our
absence, nothing could hinder them from seizing her! I agree, therefore,
with Mr. Spilett, that she must be left in Port Balloon. But, if on our
return we have not rid the island of those rascals, it will be prudent
to bring our boat to Granite House, until the time when we need not fear
any unpleasant visits.”
“That’s settled. Let us be off,” said the reporter.
Pencroft, Herbert, and Gideon Spilett, on their return to Granite House,
told the engineer all that had passed, and the latter approved of their
arrangements both for the present and the future. He also promised the
sailor that he would study that part of the channel situated between the
islet and the coast, so as to ascertain if it would not be possible
to make an artificial harbor there by means of dams. In this way, the
“Bonadventure” would be always within reach, under the eyes of the
colonists, and if necessary, under lock and key.
That evening a telegram was sent to Ayrton, requesting him to bring from
the corral a couple of goats, which Neb wished to acclimatize to the
plateau. Singularly enough, Ayrton did not acknowledge the receipt of
the despatch, as he was accustomed to do. This could not but astonish
the engineer. But it might be that Ayrton was not at that moment in the
corral, or even that he was on his way back to Granite House. In fact,
two days had already passed since his departure, and it had been decided
that on the evening of the 10th or at the latest the morning of the
11th, he should return. The colonists waited, therefore, for Ayrton to
appear on Prospect Heights. Neb and Herbert even watched at the bridge
so as to be ready to lower it the moment their companion presented
himself.
But up to ten in the evening, there were no signs of Ayrton. It was,
therefore, judged best to send a fresh despatch, requiring an immediate
reply.
The bell of the telegraph at Granite House remained mute.
The colonists’ uneasiness was great. What had happened? Was Ayrton no
longer at the corral, or if he was still there, had he no longer control
over his movements? Could they go to the corral in this dark night?
They consulted. Some wished to go, the others to remain.
“But,” said Herbert, “perhaps some accident has happened to the
telegraphic apparatus, so that it works no longer?”
“That may be,” said the reporter.
“Wait till to-morrow,” replied Cyrus Harding. “It is possible, indeed,
that Ayrton has not received our despatch, or even that we have not
received his.”
They waited, of course not without some anxiety.
At dawn of day, the 11th of November, Harding again sent the electric
current along the wire and received no reply.
He tried again: the same result.
“Off to the corral,” said he.
“And well armed!” added Pencroft.
It was immediately decided that Granite House should not be left alone
and that Neb should remain there. After having accompanied his friends
to Creek Glycerine, he raised the bridge; and waiting behind a tree he
watched for the return of either his companions or Ayrton.
In the event of the pirates presenting themselves and attempting to
force the passage, he was to endeavor to stop them by firing on them,
and as a last resource he was to take refuge in Granite House, where,
the lift once raised, he would be in safety.
Cyrus Harding, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, and Pencroft were to repair
to the corral, and if they did not find Ayrton, search the neighboring
woods.
At six o’clock in the morning, the engineer and his three companions
had passed Creek Glycerine, and Neb posted himself behind a small mound
crowned by several dragon trees, on the left bank of the stream.
The colonists, after leaving the plateau of Prospect Heights,
immediately took the road to the corral. They shouldered their guns,
ready to fire on the slightest hostile demonstration. The two rifles and
the two guns had been loaded with ball.
The wood was thick on each side of the road and might easily have
concealed the convicts, who owing to their weapons would have been
really formidable.
The colonists walked rapidly and in silence. Top preceded them,
sometimes running on the road, sometimes taking a ramble into the wood,
but always quiet and not appearing to fear anything unusual. And
they could be sure that the faithful dog would not allow them to be
surprised, but would bark at the least appearance of danger.
Cyrus Harding and his companions followed beside the road the wire which
connected the corral with Granite House. After walking for nearly two
miles, they had not as yet discovered any explanation of the difficulty.
The posts were in good order, the wire regularly extended. However, at
that moment the engineer observed that the wire appeared to be slack,
and on arriving at post No. 74, Herbert, who was in advance stopped,
exclaiming,--
“The wire is broken!”
His companions hurried forward and arrived at the spot where the lad
was standing. The post was rooted up and lying across the path. The
unexpected explanation of the difficulty was here, and it was evident
that the despatches from Granite House had not been received at the
corral, nor those from the corral at Granite House.
“It wasn’t the wind that blew down this post,” observed Pencroft.
“No,” replied Gideon Spilett. “The earth has been dug up round its foot,
and it has been torn up by the hand of man.”
“Besides, the wire is broken,” added Herbert, showing that the wire had
been snapped.
“Is the fracture recent?” asked Harding.
“Yes,” answered Herbert, “it has certainly been done quite lately.”
“To the corral! to the corral!” exclaimed the sailor.
The colonists were now half way between Granite House and the corral,
having still two miles and a half to go. They pressed forward with
redoubled speed.
Indeed, it was to be feared that some serious accident had occurred in
the corral. No doubt, Ayrton might have sent a telegram which had not
arrived, but this was not the reason why his companions were so uneasy,
for, a more unaccountable circumstance, Ayrton, who had promised to
return the evening before, had not reappeared. In short, it was not
without a motive that all communication had been stopped between the
corral and Granite House, and who but the convicts could have any
interest in interrupting this communication?
The settlers hastened on, their hearts oppressed with anxiety. They were
sincerely attached to their new companion. Were they to find him struck
down by the hands of those of whom he was formerly the leader?
Soon they arrived at the place where the road led along the side of the
little stream which flowed from the Red Creek and watered the meadows
of the corral. They then moderated their pace so that they should not
be out of breath at the moment when a struggle might be necessary. Their
guns were in their hands ready cocked. The forest was watched on every
side. Top uttered sullen groans which were rather ominous.
At last the palisade appeared through the trees. No trace of any damage
could be seen. The gate was shut as usual. Deep silence reigned in the
corral. Neither the accustomed bleating of the sheep nor Ayrton’s voice
could be heard.
“Let us enter,” said Cyrus Harding.
And the engineer advanced, while his companions, keeping watch about
twenty paces behind him, were ready to fire at a moment’s notice.
Harding raised the inner latch of the gate and was about to push it
back, when Top barked loudly. A report sounded and was responded to by a
cry of pain.
Herbert, struck by a bullet, lay stretched on the ground.
Chapter 7
At Herbert’s cry, Pencroft, letting his gun fall, rushed towards him.
“They have killed him!” he cried. “My boy! They have killed him!”
Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett ran to Herbert.
The reporter listened to ascertain if the poor lad’s heart was still
beating.
“He lives,” said he, “but he must be carried--”
“To Granite House? that is impossible!” replied the engineer.
“Into the corral, then!” said Pencroft.