The Mysterious Island
provoked by the expansion of subterranean gases. But other causes may
produce great disasters.”
“How so, my dear Cyrus?’
“I am not certain. I must consider. I must visit the mountain. In a few
days I shall learn more on this point.”
Gideon Spilett said no more, and soon, in spite of the explosions of
the volcano, whose intensity increased, and which were repeated by the
echoes of the island, the inhabitants of Granite House were sleeping
soundly.
Three days passed by--the 4th, 5th, and 6th of January. The construction
of the vessel was diligently continued, and without offering further
explanations the engineer pushed forward the work with all his energy.
Mount Franklin was now hooded by a somber cloud of sinister aspect, and,
amid the flames, vomiting forth incandescent rocks, some of which fell
back into the crater itself. This caused Pencroft, who would only look
at the matter in the light of a joke, to exclaim,--
“Ah! the giant is playing at cup and ball; he is a conjurer.”
In fact, the substances thrown up fell back again in to the abyss, and
it did not seem that the lava, though swollen by the internal pressure,
had yet risen to the orifice of the crater. At any rate, the opening on
the northeast, which was partly visible, poured out no torrent upon the
northern slope of the mountain.
Nevertheless, however pressing was the construction of the vessel, other
duties demanded the presence of the colonists on various portions of the
island. Before everything it was necessary to go to the corral, where
the flocks of musmons and goats were enclosed, and replenish the
provision of forage for those animals. It was accordingly arranged that
Ayrton should proceed thither the next day, the 7th of January; and as
he was sufficient for the task, to which he was accustomed, Pencroft and
the rest were somewhat surprised on hearing the engineer say to Ayrton--
“As you are going to-morrow to the corral I will accompany you.”
“But, Captain Harding,” exclaimed the sailor, “our working days will not
be many, and if you go also we shall be two pair of hands short!”
“We shall return to-morrow,” replied Cyrus Harding, “but it is necessary
that I should go to the corral. I must learn how the eruption is
progressing.”
“The eruption! always the eruption!” answered Pencroft, with an air of
discontent. “An important thing, truly, this eruption! I trouble myself
very little about it.”
Whatever might be the sailor’s opinion, the expedition projected by the
engineer was settled for the next day. Herbert wished to accompany Cyrus
Harding, but he would not vex Pencroft by his absence.
The next day, at dawn, Cyrus Harding and Ayrton, mounting the cart drawn
by two onagers, took the road to the corral and set off at a round trot.
Above the forest were passing large clouds, to which the crater of Mount
Franklin incessantly added fuliginous matter. These clouds, which rolled
heavily in the air, were evidently composed of heterogeneous substances.
It was not alone from the volcano that they derived their strange
opacity and weight. Scoriae, in a state of dust, like powdered
pumice-stone, and grayish ashes as small as the finest feculae, were
held in suspension in the midst of their thick folds. These ashes are so
fine that they have been observed in the air for whole months. After
the eruption of 1783 in Iceland for upwards of a year the atmosphere was
thus charged with volcanic dust through which the rays of the sun were
only with difficulty discernible.
But more often this pulverized matter falls, and this happened on the
present occasion. Cyrus Harding and Ayrton had scarcely reached the
corral when a sort of black snow like fine gunpowder fell, and instantly
changed the appearance of the soil. Trees, meadows, all disappeared
beneath a covering several inches in depth. But, very fortunately,
the wind blew from the northeast, and the greater part of the cloud
dissolved itself over the sea.
“This is very singular, Captain Harding,” said Ayrton.
“It is very serious,” replied the engineer. “This powdered pumice-stone,
all this mineral dust, proves how grave is the convulsion going forward
in the lower depths of the volcano.”
“But can nothing be done?”
“Nothing, except to note the progress of the phenomenon. Do you,
therefore, Ayrton, occupy yourself with the necessary work at the
corral. In the meantime I will ascend just beyond the source of Red
Creek and examine the condition of the mountain upon its northern
aspect. Then--”
“Well, Captain Harding?”
“Then we will pay a visit to Dakkar Grotto. I wish to inspect it. At any
rate I will come back for you in two hours.”
Ayrton then proceeded to enter the corral, and, while awaiting the
engineer’s return, busied himself with the musmons and goats which
seemed to feel a certain uneasiness in presence of these first signs of
an eruption.
Meanwhile Cyrus Harding ascended the crest of the eastern spur, passed
Red Creek, and arrived at the spot where he and his companions had
discovered a sulphurous spring at the time of their first exploration.
How changed was everything! Instead of a single column of smoke he
counted thirteen, forced through the soil as if violently propelled by
some piston. It was evident that the crust of the earth was subjected
in this part of the globe to a frightful pressure. The atmosphere was
saturated with gases and carbonic acid, mingled with aqueous vapors.
Cyrus Harding felt the volcanic tufa with which the plain was strewn,
and which was but pulverized cinders hardened into solid blocks by time,
tremble beneath him, but he could discover no traces of fresh lava.
The engineer became more assured of this when he observed all the
northern part of Mount Franklin. Pillars of smoke and flame escaped from
the crater; a hail of scoriae fell on the ground; but no current of
lava burst from the mouth of the volcano, which proved that the volcanic
matter had not yet attained the level of the superior orifice of the
central shaft.
“But I would prefer that it were so,” said Cyrus Harding to himself. “At
any rate, I should then know that the lava had followed its accustomed
track. Who can say that it may not take a new course? But the danger
does not consist in that! Captain Nemo foresaw it clearly! No, the
danger does not lie there!”
Cyrus Harding advanced towards the enormous causeway whose prolongation
enclosed the narrow Shark Gulf. He could now sufficiently examine on
this side the ancient channels of the lava. There was no doubt in his
mind that the most recent eruption had occurred at a far-distant epoch.
He then returned by the same way, listening attentively to the
subterranean mutterings which rolled like long-continued thunder,
interrupted by deafening explosions. At nine in the morning he reached
the corral.
Ayrton awaited him.
“The animals are cared for, Captain Harding,” said Ayrton.
“Good, Ayrton.”
“They seem uneasy, Captain Harding.”
“Yes, instinct speaks through them, and instinct is never deceived.”
“Are you ready?”
“Take a lamp, Ayrton,” answered the engineer; “we will start at once.”
Ayrton did as desired. The onagers, unharnessed, roamed in the corral.
The gate was secured on the outside, and Cyrus Harding, preceding
Ayrton, took the narrow path which led westward to the shore.
The soil they walked upon was choked with the pulverized matter fallen
from the cloud. No quadruped appeared in the woods. Even the birds had
fled. Sometimes a passing breeze raised the covering of ashes, and the
two colonists, enveloped in a whirlwind of dust, lost sight of each
other. They were then careful to cover their eyes and mouths with
handkerchiefs, for they ran the risk of being blinded and suffocated.
It was impossible for Cyrus Harding and Ayrton, with these impediments,
to make rapid progress. Moreover, the atmosphere was close, as if the
oxygen had been partly burned up, and had become unfit for respiration.
At every hundred paces they were obliged to stop to take breath. It was
therefore past ten o’clock when the engineer and his companion reached
the crest of the enormous mass of rocks of basalt and porphyry which
composed the northwest coast of the island.
Ayrton and Cyrus Harding commenced the descent of this abrupt declivity,
following almost step for step the difficult path which, during that
stormy night, had led them to Dakkar Grotto. In open day the descent was
less perilous, and, besides, the bed of ashes which covered the polished
surface of the rock enabled them to make their footing more secure.
The ridge at the end of the shore, about forty feet in height, was soon
reached. Cyrus Harding recollected that this elevation gradually sloped
towards the level of the sea. Although the tide was at present low, no
beach could be seen, and the waves, thickened by the volcanic dust, beat
upon the basaltic rocks.
Cyrus Harding and Ayrton found without difficulty the entrance to Dakkar
Grotto, and paused for a moment at the last rock before it.
“The iron boat should be there,” said the engineer.
“It is here, Captain Harding,” replied Ayrton, drawing towards him the
fragile craft, which was protected by the arch of the vault.
“On board, Ayrton!”
The two colonists stepped into the boat. A slight undulation of the
waves carried it farther under the low arch of the crypt, and there
Ayrton, with the aid of flint and steel, lighted the lamp. He then took
the oars, and the lamp having been placed in the bow of the boat, so
that its rays fell before them, Cyrus Harding took the helm and steered
through the shades of the grotto.
The “Nautilus” was there no longer to illuminate the cavern with its
electric light. Possibly it might not yet be extinguished, but no ray
escaped from the depths of the abyss in which reposed all that was
mortal of Captain Nemo.
The light afforded by the lamp, although feeble, nevertheless enabled
the engineer to advance slowly, following the wall of the cavern. A
deathlike silence reigned under the vaulted roof, or at least in the
anterior portion, for soon Cyrus Harding distinctly heard the rumbling
which proceeded from the bowels of the mountain.
“That comes from the volcano,” he said.
Besides these sounds, the presence of chemical combinations was soon
betrayed by their powerful odor, and the engineer and his companion were
almost suffocated by sulphurous vapors.
“This is what Captain Nemo feared,” murmured Cyrus Harding, changing
countenance. “We must go to the end, notwithstanding.”
“Forward!” replied Ayrton, bending to his oars and directing the boat
towards the head of the cavern.
Twenty-five minutes after entering the mouth of the grotto the boat
reached the extreme end.
Cyrus Harding then, standing up, cast the light of the lamp upon the
walls of the cavern which separated it from the central shaft of the
volcano. What was the thickness of this wall? It might be ten feet or a
hundred feet--it was impossible to say. But the subterranean sounds were
too perceptible to allow of the supposition that it was of any great
thickness.
The engineer, after having explored the wall at a certain height
horizontally, fastened the lamp to the end of an oar, and again surveyed
the basaltic wall at a greater elevation.
There, through scarcely visible clefts and joinings, escaped a pungent
vapor, which infected the atmosphere of the cavern. The wall was broken
by large cracks, some of which extended to within two or three feet of
the water’s edge.
Cyrus Harding thought for a brief space. Then he said in a low voice,--
“Yes! the captain was right! The danger lies there, and a terrible
danger!”
Ayrton said not a word, but, upon a sign from Cyrus Harding, resumed the