The Mysterious Island
Now, if the convicts were suspecting nothing, if they knew nothing of
the expedition against them, if, lastly, there now existed a chance
of surprising them, ought this chance to be lost by inconsiderately
attempting to cross the palisades?
This was not the reporter’s opinion. He thought it better to wait until
all the settlers were collected together before attempting to penetrate
into the corral. One thing was certain, that it was possible to reach
the palisade without being seen, and also that it did not appear to be
guarded. This point settled, there was nothing to be done but to return
to the cart, where they would consult.
Pencroft probably agreed with this decision, for he followed the
reporter without making any objection when the latter turned back to the
wood.
In a few minutes the engineer was made acquainted with the state of
affairs.
“Well,” said he, after a little thought, “I now have reason to believe
that the convicts are not in the corral.”
“We shall soon know,” said Pencroft, “when we have scaled the palisade.”
“To the corral, my friends!” said Cyrus Harding.
“Shall we leave the cart in the wood?” asked Neb.
“No,” replied the engineer, “it is our wagon of ammunition and
provisions, and, if necessary, it would serve as an entrenchment.”
“Forward, then!” said Gideon Spilett.
The cart emerged from the wood and began to roll noiselessly towards the
palisade. The darkness was now profound, the silence as complete as
when Pencroft and the reporter crept over the ground. The thick grass
completely muffled their footsteps. The colonists held themselves ready
to fire. Jup, at Pencroft’s orders, kept behind. Neb led Top in a leash,
to prevent him from bounding forward.
The clearing soon came in sight. It was deserted. Without hesitating,
the little band moved towards the palisade. In a short space of time the
dangerous zone was passed. Neb remained at the onagers’ heads to hold
them. The engineer, the reporter, Herbert, and Pencroft, proceeded to
the door, in order to ascertain if it was barricaded inside. It was
open!
“What do you say now?” asked the engineer, turning to the sailor and
Spilett.
Both were stupefied.
“I can swear,” said Pencroft, “that this gate was shut just now!”
The colonists now hesitated. Were the convicts in the corral when
Pencroft and the reporter made their reconnaissance? It could not be
doubted, as the gate then closed could only have been opened by them.
Were they still there, or had one of their number just gone out?
All these questions presented themselves simultaneously to the minds of
the colonists, but how could they be answered?
At that moment, Herbert, who had advanced a few steps into the
enclosure, drew back hurriedly, and seized Harding’s hand.
“What’s the matter?” asked the engineer.
“A light!”
“In the house?”
“Yes!”
All five advanced and indeed, through the window fronting them, they saw
glimmering a feeble light. Cyrus Harding made up his mind rapidly. “It
is our only chance,” said he to his companions, “of finding the convicts
collected in this house, suspecting nothing! They are in our power!
Forward!” The colonists crossed through the enclosure, holding their
guns ready in their hands. The cart had been left outside under the
charge of Jup and Top, who had been prudently tied to it.
Cyrus Harding, Pencroft, and Gideon Spilett on one side, Herbert and Neb
on the other, going along by the palisade, surveyed the absolutely dark
and deserted corral.
In a few moments they were near the closed door of the house.
Harding signed to his companions not to stir, and approached the window,
then feebly lighted by the inner light.
He gazed into the apartment.
On the table burned a lantern. Near the table was the bed formerly used
by Ayrton.
On the bed lay the body of a man.
Suddenly Cyrus Harding drew back, and in a hoarse voice,--“Ayrton!” he
exclaimed.
Immediately the door was forced rather than opened, and the colonists
rushed into the room.
Ayrton appeared to be asleep. His countenance showed that he had long
and cruelly suffered. On his wrists and ankles could be seen great
bruises.
Harding bent over him.
“Ayrton!” cried the engineer, seizing the arm of the man whom he had
just found again under such unexpected circumstances.
At this exclamation Ayrton opened his eyes, and, gazing at Harding, then
at the others,--
“You!” he cried, “you?”
“Ayrton! Ayrton!” repeated Harding.
“Where am I?”
“In the house in the corral!”
“Alone?”
“Yes!”
“But they will come back!” cried Ayrton. “Defend yourselves! defend
yourselves!”
And he fell back exhausted.
“Spilett,” exclaimed the engineer, “we may be attacked at any moment.
Bring the cart into the corral. Then, barricade the door, and all come
back here.”
Pencroft, Neb, and the reporter hastened to execute the engineer’s
orders. There was not a moment to be lost. Perhaps even now the cart was
in the hands of the convicts!
In a moment the reporter and his two companions had crossed the corral
and reached the gate of the palisade behind which Top was heard growling
sullenly.
The engineer, leaving Ayrton for an instant, came out ready to fire.
Herbert was at his side. Both surveyed the crest of the spur overlooking
the corral. If the convicts were lying in ambush there, they might knock
the settlers over one after the other.
At that moment the moon appeared in the east, above the black curtain of
the forest, and a white sheet of light spread over the interior of the
enclosure. The corral, with its clumps of trees, the little stream which
watered it, its wide carpet of grass, was suddenly illuminated. From
the side of the mountain, the house and a part of the palisade stood
out white in the moonlight. On the opposite side towards the door, the
enclosure remained dark. A black mass soon appeared. This was the cart
entering the circle of light, and Cyrus Harding could hear the noise
made by the door, as his companions shut it and fastened the interior
bars.
But, at that moment, Top, breaking loose, began to bark furiously and
rush to the back of the corral, to the right of the house.
“Be ready to fire, my friends!” cried Harding.
The colonists raised their pieces and waited the moment to fire.
Top still barked, and Jup, running towards the dog, uttered shrill
cries.
The colonists followed him, and reached the borders of the little
stream, shaded by large trees. And there, in the bright moonlight, what
did they see? Five corpses, stretched on the bank!
They were those of the convicts who, four months previously, had landed
on Lincoln Island!
Chapter 13
How had it happened? who had killed the convicts? Was it Ayrton? No, for
a moment before he was dreading their return.
But Ayrton was now in a profound stupor, from which it was no longer
possible to rouse him. After uttering those few words he had again
become unconscious, and had fallen back motionless on the bed.
The colonists, a prey to a thousand confused thoughts, under the
influence of violent excitement, waited all night, without leaving
Ayrton’s house, or returning to the spot where lay the bodies of the
convicts. It was very probable that Ayrton would not be able to throw
any light on the circumstances under which the bodies had been found,
since he himself was not aware that he was in the corral. But at any
rate he would be in a position to give an account of what had taken
place before this terrible execution. The next day Ayrton awoke from his
torpor, and his companions cordially manifested all the joy they felt,
on seeing him again, almost safe and sound, after a hundred and four
days separation.
Ayrton then in a few words recounted what had happened, or, at least, as
much as he knew.
The day after his arrival at the corral, on the 10th of last November,
at nightfall, he was surprised by the convicts, who had scaled the
palisade. They bound and gagged him; then he was led to a dark cavern,
at the foot of Mount Franklin, where the convicts had taken refuge.
His death had been decided upon, and the next day the convicts were
about to kill him, when one of them recognized him and called him by
the name which he bore in Australia. The wretches had no scruples as to
murdering Ayrton! They spared Ben Joyce!
But from that moment Ayrton was exposed to the importunities of his
former accomplices. They wished him to join them again, and relied upon
his aid to enable them to gain possession of Granite House, to penetrate
into that hitherto inaccessible dwelling, and to become masters of the
island, after murdering the colonists!
Ayrton remained firm. The once convict, now repentant and pardoned,
would rather die than betray his companions. Ayrton--bound, gagged, and
closely watched--lived in this cave for four months.
Nevertheless the convicts had discovered the corral a short time after
their arrival in the island, and since then they had subsisted on
Ayrton’s stores, but did not live at the corral.
On the 11th of November, two of the villains, surprised by the
colonists’ arrival, fired at Herbert, and one of them returned, boasting
of having killed one of the inhabitants of the island; but he returned
alone. His companion, as is known, fell by Cyrus Harding’s dagger.
Ayrton’s anxiety and despair may be imagined when he learned the news of
Herbert’s death. The settlers were now only four, and, as it seemed,
at the mercy of the convicts. After this event, and during all the
time that the colonists, detained by Herbert’s illness, remained in the
corral, the pirates did not leave their cavern, and even after they had
pillaged the plateau of Prospect Heights, they did not think it prudent
to abandon it.
The ill-treatment inflicted on Ayrton was now redoubled. His hands and
feet still bore the bloody marks of the cords which bound him day and
night. Every moment he expected to be put to death, nor did it appear
possible that he could escape.
Matters remained thus until the third week of February. The convicts,
still watching for a favorable opportunity, rarely quitted their
retreat, and only made a few hunting excursions, either to the interior
of the island, or the south coast.
Ayrton had no further news of his friends, and relinquished all hope
of ever seeing them again. At last, the unfortunate man, weakened
by ill-treatment, fell into a prostration so profound that sight and
hearing failed him. From that moment, that is to say, since the last two
days, he could give no information whatever of what had occurred.
“But, Captain Harding,” he added, “since I was imprisoned in that
cavern, how is it that I find myself in the corral?”
“How is it that the convicts are lying yonder dead, in the middle of the
enclosure?” answered the engineer.
“Dead!” cried Ayrton, half rising from his bed, notwithstanding his
weakness.
His companions supported him. He wished to get up, and with their
assistance he did so. They then proceeded together towards the little
stream.
It was now broad daylight.
There, on the bank, in the position in which they had been stricken
by death in its most instantaneous form, lay the corpses of the five
convicts!
Ayrton was astounded. Harding and his companions looked at him without
uttering a word. On a sign from the engineer, Neb and Pencroft examined
the bodies, already stiffened by the cold.
They bore no apparent trace of any wound.
Only, after carefully examining them, Pencroft found on the forehead of
one, on the chest of another, on the back of this one, on the shoulder
of that, a little red spot, a sort of scarcely visible bruise, the cause
of which it was impossible to conjecture.
“It is there that they have been struck!” said Cyrus Harding.