The Mysterious Island
“But with what weapon?” cried the reporter.
“A weapon, lightning-like in its effects, and of which we have not the
secret!”
“And who has struck the blow?” asked Pencroft.
“The avenging power of the island,” replied Harding, “he who brought you
here, Ayrton, whose influence has once more manifested itself, who does
for us all that which we cannot do for ourselves, and who, his will
accomplished, conceals himself from us.”
“Let us make search for him, then!” exclaimed Pencroft.
“Yes, we will search for him,” answered Harding, “but we shall not
discover this powerful being who performs such wonders, until he pleases
to call us to him!”
This invisible protection, which rendered their own action unavailing,
both irritated and piqued the engineer. The relative inferiority which
it proved was of a nature to wound a haughty spirit. A generosity
evinced in such a manner as to elude all tokens of gratitude, implied a
sort of disdain for those on whom the obligation was conferred, which in
Cyrus Harding’s eyes marred, in some degree, the worth of the benefit.
“Let us search,” he resumed, “and God grant that we may some day be
permitted to prove to this haughty protector that he has not to deal
with ungrateful people! What would I not give could we repay him, by
rendering him in our turn, although at the price of our lives, some
signal service!”
From this day, the thoughts of the inhabitants of Lincoln Island were
solely occupied with the intended search. Everything incited them to
discover the answer to this enigma, an answer which would only be the
name of a man endowed with a truly inexplicable, and in some degree
superhuman power.
In a few minutes, the settlers re-entered the house, where their
influence soon restored to Ayrton his moral and physical energy. Neb
and Pencroft carried the corpses of the convicts into the forest, some
distance from the corral, and buried them deep in the ground.
Ayrton was then made acquainted with the facts which had occurred during
his seclusion. He learned Herbert’s adventures, and through what various
trials the colonists had passed. As to the settlers, they had despaired
of ever seeing Ayrton again, and had been convinced that the convicts
had ruthlessly murdered him.
“And now,” said Cyrus Harding, as he ended his recital, “a duty remains
for us to perform. Half of our task is accomplished, but although the
convicts are no longer to be feared, it is not owing to ourselves that
we are once more masters of the island.”
“Well!” answered Gideon Spilett, “let us search all this labyrinth of
the spurs of Mount Franklin. We will not leave a hollow, not a hole
unexplored! Ah! if ever a reporter found himself face to face with a
mystery, it is I who now speak to you, my friends!”
“And we will not return to Granite House until we have found our
benefactor,” said Herbert.
“Yes,” said the engineer, “we will do all that it is humanly possible to
do, but I repeat we shall not find him until he himself permits us.”
“Shall we stay at the corral?” asked Pencroft.
“We shall stay here,” answered Harding. “Provisions are abundant, and we
are here in the very center of the circle we have to explore. Besides,
if necessary, the cart will take us rapidly to Granite House.”
“Good!” answered the sailor. “Only I have a remark to make.”
“What is it?”
“Here is the fine season getting on, and we must not forget that we have
a voyage to make.”
“A voyage?” said Gideon Spilett.
“Yes, to Tabor Island,” answered Pencroft. “It is necessary to carry a
notice there to point out the position of our island and say that Ayrton
is here in case the Scotch yacht should come to take him off. Who knows
if it is not already too late?”
“But, Pencroft,” asked Ayrton, “how do you intend to make this voyage?”
“In the ‘Bonadventure.’”
“The ‘Bonadventure!’” exclaimed Ayrton. “She no longer exists.”
“My ‘Bonadventure’ exists no longer!” shouted Pencroft, bounding from
his seat.
“No,” answered Ayrton. “The convicts discovered her in her little harbor
only eight days ago, they put to sea in her--”
“And?” said Pencroft, his heart beating.
“And not having Bob Harvey to steer her, they ran on the rocks, and the
vessel went to pieces.”
“Oh, the villains, the cutthroats, the infamous scoundrels!” exclaimed
Pencroft.
“Pencroft,” said Herbert, taking the sailor’s hand, “we will build
another ‘Bonadventure’--a larger one. We have all the ironwork--all the
rigging of the brig at our disposal.”
“But do you know,” returned Pencroft, “that it will take at least five
or six months to build a vessel of from thirty to forty tons?”
“We can take our time,” said the reporter, “and we must give up the
voyage to Tabor Island for this year.”
“Oh, my ‘Bonadventure!’ my poor ‘Bonadventure!’” cried Pencroft, almost
broken-hearted at the destruction of the vessel of which he was so
proud.
The loss of the “Bonadventure” was certainly a thing to be lamented by
the colonists, and it was agreed that this loss should be repaired
as soon as possible. This settled, they now occupied themselves with
bringing their researches to bear on the most secret parts of the
island.
The exploration was commenced at daybreak on the 19th of February, and
lasted an entire week. The base of the mountain, with its spurs and
their numberless ramifications, formed a labyrinth of valleys and
elevations. It was evident that there, in the depths of these narrow
gorges, perhaps even in the interior of Mount Franklin itself, was the
proper place to pursue their researches. No part of the island could
have been more suitable to conceal a dwelling whose occupant wished to
remain unknown. But so irregular was the formation of the valleys that
Cyrus Harding was obliged to conduct the exploration in a strictly
methodical manner.
The colonists first visited the valley opening to the south of the
volcano, and which first received the waters of Falls River. There
Ayrton showed them the cavern where the convicts had taken refuge, and
in which he had been imprisoned until his removal to the corral. This
cavern was just as Ayrton had left it. They found there a considerable
quantity of ammunition and provisions, conveyed thither by the convicts
in order to form a reserve.
The whole of the valley bordering on the cave, shaded by fir and
other trees, was thoroughly explored, and on turning the point of the
southwestern spur, the colonists entered a narrower gorge similar to the
picturesque columns of basalt on the coast. Here the trees were fewer.
Stones took the place of grass. Goats and musmons gambolled among the
rocks. Here began the barren part of the island. It could already be
seen that, of the numerous valleys branching off at the base of Mount
Franklin, three only were wooded and rich in pasturage like that of the
corral, which bordered on the west on the Falls River valley, and on the
east on the Red Creek valley. These two streams, which lower down became
rivers by the absorption of several tributaries, were formed by all the
springs of the mountain and thus caused the fertility of its southern
part. As to the Mercy, it was more directly fed from ample springs
concealed under the cover of Jacamar Wood, and it was by springs of
this nature, spreading in a thousand streamlets, that the soil of the
Serpentine Peninsula was watered.
Now, of these three well-watered valleys, either might have served as a
retreat to some solitary who would have found there everything necessary
for life. But the settlers had already explored them, and in no part had
they discovered the presence of man.
Was it then in the depths of those barren gorges, in the midst of the
piles of rock, in the rugged northern ravines, among the streams of
lava, that this dwelling and its occupant would be found?
The northern part of Mount Franklin was at its base composed solely of
two valleys, wide, not very deep, without any appearance of vegetation,
strewn with masses of rock, paved with lava, and varied with great
blocks of mineral. This region required a long and careful exploration.
It contained a thousand cavities, comfortless no doubt, but perfectly
concealed and difficult of access.
The colonists even visited dark tunnels, dating from the volcanic
period, still black from the passage of the fire, and penetrated into
the depths of the mountain. They traversed these somber galleries,
waving lighted torches; they examined the smallest excavations; they
sounded the shallowest depths, but all was dark and silent. It did
not appear that the foot of man had ever before trodden these ancient
passages, or that his arm had ever displaced one of these blocks, which
remained as the volcano had cast them up above the waters, at the time
of the submersion of the island.
However, although these passages appeared to be absolutely deserted, and
the obscurity was complete, Cyrus Harding was obliged to confess that
absolute silence did not reign there.
On arriving at the end of one of these gloomy caverns, extending several
hundred feet into the interior of the mountain, he was surprised to hear
a deep rumbling noise, increased in intensity by the sonorousness of the
rocks.
Gideon Spilett, who accompanied him, also heard these distant
mutterings, which indicated a revivification of the subterranean fires.
Several times both listened, and they agreed that some chemical process
was taking place in the bowels of the earth.
“Then the volcano is not totally extinct?” said the reporter.
“It is possible that since our exploration of the crater,” replied Cyrus
Harding, “some change has occurred. Any volcano, although considered
extinct, may evidently again burst forth.”
“But if an eruption of Mount Franklin occurred,” asked Spilett, “would
there not be some danger to Lincoln Island?”
“I do not think so,” answered the reporter. “The crater, that is to
say, the safety-valve, exists, and the overflow of smoke and lava, would
escape, as it did formerly, by this customary outlet.”
“Unless the lava opened a new way for itself towards the fertile parts
of the island!”
“And why, my dear Spilett,” answered Cyrus Harding, “should it not
follow the road naturally traced out for it?”
“Well, volcanoes are capricious,” returned the reporter.
“Notice,” answered the engineer, “that the inclination of Mount Franklin
favors the flow of water towards the valleys which we are exploring just
now. To turn aside this flow, an earthquake would be necessary to change
the mountain’s center of gravity.”
“But an earthquake is always to be feared at these times,” observed
Gideon Spilett.
“Always,” replied the engineer, “especially when the subterranean forces
begin to awake, as they risk meeting with some obstruction, after a long
rest. Thus, my dear Spilett, an eruption would be a serious thing
for us, and it would be better that the volcano should not have the
slightest desire to wake up. But we could not prevent it, could we? At
any rate, even if it should occur, I do not think Prospect Heights would
be seriously threatened. Between them and the mountain, the ground
is considerably depressed, and if the lava should ever take a course
towards the lake, it would be cast on the downs and the neighboring
parts of Shark Gulf.”
“We have not yet seen any smoke at the top of the mountain, to indicate
an approaching eruption,” said Gideon Spilett.
“No,” answered Harding, “not a vapor escapes from the crater, for it
was only yesterday that I attentively surveyed the summit. But it
is probable that at the lower part of the chimney, time may have
accumulated rocks, cinders, hardened lava, and that this valve of which
I spoke, may at any time become overcharged. But at the first serious