Chapter 19

Two years already! and for two years the colonists¹ had had no communication with their fellow-creatures! They were without news from the civilized² world, lost on this island, as completely as if they had been on the most minute star of the celestial³ hemisphere!

What was now happening in their country? The picture of their native land was always before their eyes, the land torn by civil war at the time they left it, and which the Southern rebellion was perhaps still staining with blood! It was a great sorrow to them, and they often talked together of these things, without ever doubting however that the cause of the North must triumph, for the honor of the American Confederation.

During these two years not a vessel⁴ had passed in sight of the island; or, at least, not a sail had been seen. It was evident that Lincoln Island was out of the usual track, and also that it was unknown,—as was besides proved by the maps,—for though there was no port, vessels⁵ might have visited it for the purpose of renewing their store of water. But the surrounding ocean was deserted⁶ as far as the eye could reach, and the colonists must rely on themselves for regaining⁷ their native land.

However, one chance of rescue existed, and this chance was discussed one day on the first week of April, when the colonists were gathered together in the dining-room of Granite⁸ House.

They had been talking of America, of their native country, which they had so little hope of ever seeing again.

“Decidedly we have only one way,” said Spilett, “one single way for leaving Lincoln Island, and that is, to build a vessel large enough to sail several hundred miles. It appears to me, that when one has built a boat it is just as easy to build a ship!”

“And in which we might go to the Pomoutous,” added Herbert, “just as easily as we went to Tabor Island.”

“I do not say no,” replied Pencroft, who had always the casting vote in maritime¹⁰ questions; “I do not say no, although it is not exactly the same thing to make a long as a short voyage! If our little craft had been caught in any heavy gale¹¹ of wind during the voyage to Tabor Island, we should have known that land was at no great distance either way; but twelve hundred miles is a pretty long way, and the nearest land is at least that distance!”

“Would you not, in that case, Pencroft, attempt the adventure?” asked the reporter.

“I will attempt anything that is desired, Mr. Spilett,” answered the sailor, “and you know well that I am not a man to flinch¹²!”

“Remember, besides, that we number another sailor amongst us now,” remarked Neb.

“Who is that?” asked Pencroft.

“Ayrton.”

“If he will consent to come,” said Pencroft.

“Nonsense!” returned the reporter; “do you think that if Lord Glenarvan’s yacht had appeared at Tabor Island, while he was still living there, Ayrton would have refused to depart?”

“You forget, my friends,” then said Cyrus Harding, “that Ayrton was not in possession of his reason during the last years of his stay there. But that is not the question. The point is to know if we may count among our chances of being rescued, the return of the Scotch¹³ vessel. Now, Lord Glenarvan promised Ayrton that he would return to take him off from Tabor Island when he considered that his crimes were expiated¹⁴, and I believe that he will return.”

“Yes,” said the reporter, “and I will add that he will return soon, for it is twelve years since Ayrton was abandoned.”

“Well!” answered Pencroft, “I agree with you that the nobleman will return, and soon too. But where will he touch? At Tabor Island, and not at Lincoln Island.”

“That is the more certain,” replied Herbert, “as Lincoln Island is not even marked on the map.”

“Therefore, my friends,” said the engineer, “we ought to take the necessary precautions for making our presence and that of Ayrton on Lincoln Island known at Tabor Island.”

“Certainly,” answered the reporter, “and nothing is easier than to place in the hut, which was Captain Grant’s and Ayrton’s dwelling¹⁵, a notice which Lord Glenarvan and his crew cannot help finding, giving the position of our island.”

“It is a pity,” remarked the sailor, “that we forgot to take that precaution on our first visit to Tabor Island.”

“And why should we have done it?” asked Herbert. “At that time we did not know Ayrton’s history; we did not know that any one was likely to come some day to fetch him, and when we did know his history, the season was too advanced to allow us to return then to Tabor Island.”

“Yes,” replied Harding, “it was too late, and we must put off the voyage until next spring.”

“But suppose the Scotch yacht comes before that,” said Pencroft.

“That is not probable,” replied the engineer, “for Lord Glenarvan would not choose the winter season to venture into these seas. Either he has already returned to Tabor Island, since Ayrton has been with us, that is to say, during the last five months and has left again; or he will not come till later, and it will be time enough in the first fine October days to go to Tabor Island, and leave a notice there.”

“We must allow,” said Neb, “that it will be very unfortunate if the ‘Duncan’ has returned to these parts only a few months ago!”

“I hope that it is not so,” replied Cyrus Harding, “and that Heaven has not deprived us of the best chance which remains¹⁶ to us.”

“I think,” observed the reporter, “that at any rate we shall know what we have to depend on when we have been to Tabor Island, for if the yacht has returned there, they will necessarily have left some traces of their visit.”

“That is evident,” answered the engineer. “So then, my friends, since we have this chance of returning to our country, we must wait patiently, and if it is taken from us we shall see what will be best to do.”

“At any rate,” remarked Pencroft, “it is well understood that if we do leave Lincoln Island, it will not be because we were uncomfortable there!”

“No, Pencroft,” replied the engineer, “it will be because we are far from all that a man holds dearest in the world, his family, his friends, his native land!”

Matters being thus decided⁹, the building of a vessel large enough to sail either to the Archipelagoes in the north, or to New Zealand in the west, was no longer talked of, and they busied themselves in their accustomed occupations, with a view to wintering a third time in Granite House.

However, it was agreed that before the stormy weather came on, their little vessel should be employed in making a voyage round the island. A complete survey of the coast had not yet been made, and the colonists had but an imperfect idea of the shore to the west and north, from the mouth of Falls River to the Mandible Capes¹⁸, as well as of the narrow bay between them, which opened like a shark’s jaws²⁰.

The plan of this excursion was proposed by Pencroft, and Cyrus Harding fully acquiesced²¹ in it, for he himself wished to see this part of his domain²².

The weather was variable, but the barometer²³ did not fluctuate by sudden movements, and they could therefore count on tolerable weather. However, during the first week of April, after a sudden barometrical²⁴ fall, a renewed rise was marked by a heavy gale of wind, lasting²⁵ five or six days; then the needle of the instrument remained stationary²⁶ at a height of twenty-nine inches and nine-tenths, and the weather appeared propitious²⁷ for an excursion.

The departure was fixed²⁸ for the 16th of April, and the “Bonadventure,” anchored in Port Balloon, was provisioned for a voyage which might be of some duration.

Cyrus Harding informed Ayrton of the projected expedition²⁹, and proposed that he should take part in it, but Ayrton preferring to remain on shore, it was decided that he should come to Granite House during the absence of his companions. Master Jup was ordered to keep him company, and made no remonstrance³⁰.

On the morning of the 16th of April all the colonists, including Top, embarked³¹. A fine breeze blew from the south-west, and the “Bonadventure” tacked³² on leaving Port Balloon so as to reach Reptile³⁴ End. Of the ninety miles which the perimeter³⁵ of the island measured, twenty included the south coast between the port and the promontory³⁶. The wind being right ahead it was necessary to hug the shore.

It took the whole day to reach the promontory, for the vessel on leaving port had only two hours of ebb³⁷ tide and had therefore to make way for six hours against the flood. It was nightfall before the promontory was doubled.

The sailor then proposed to the engineer that they should continue sailing slowly with two reefs in the sail. But Harding preferred to anchor a few cable-lengths from the shore, so as to survey that part of the coast during the day. It was agreed also that as they were anxious for a minute exploration of the coast they should not sail during the night, but would always, when the weather permitted it, be at anchor near the shore.

The night was passed under the promontory, and the wind having fallen, nothing disturbed the silence. The passengers, with the exception of the sailor, scarcely slept as well on board the “Bonadventure” as they would have done in their rooms at Granite House, but they did sleep however. Pencroft set sail at break of day, and by going on the larboard tack³³ they could keep close to the shore.

The colonists knew this beautiful wooded coast, since they had already explored it on foot, and yet it again excited their admiration³⁸. They coasted along as close in as possible, so as to notice everything, avoiding always the trunks of trees which floated here and there. Several times also they anchored, and Gideon Spilett took photographs of the superb scenery.

About noon the “Bonadventure” arrived at the mouth of Falls River. Beyond, on the left bank, a few scattered³⁹ trees appeared, and three miles further even these dwindled⁴⁰ into solitary⁴¹ groups among the western spurs of the mountain, whose arid⁴² ridge⁴³ sloped down to the shore.

What a contrast between the northern and southern part of the coast! In proportion as one was woody and fertile so was the other rugged⁴⁴ and barren! It might have been designated as one of those iron coasts, as they are called in some countries, and its wild confusion appeared to indicate that a sudden crystallization had been produced in the yet liquid basalt of some distant geological sea. These stupendous masses would have terrified the settlers if they had been cast at first on this part of the island! They had not been able to perceive the sinister⁴⁵ aspect of this shore from the summit of Mount Franklin, for they overlooked it from too great a height, but viewed from the sea it presented a wild appearance which could not perhaps be equaled in any corner of the globe.

The “Bonadventure” sailed along this coast for the distance of half a mile. It was easy to see that it was composed of blocks of all sizes, from twenty to three hundred feet in height, and of all shapes, round like towers, prismatic like steeples, pyramidal like obelisks⁴⁶, conical like factory chimneys. An iceberg⁴⁷ of the Polar seas could not have been more capricious in its terrible sublimity⁴⁸! Here, bridges were thrown from one rock to another; there, arches like those of a wave, into the depths of which the eye could not penetrate⁴⁹; in one place, large vaulted⁵⁰ excavations⁵¹ presented a monumental aspect; in another, a crowd of columns, spires⁵², and arches, such as no Gothic cathedral⁵³ ever possessed⁵⁴. Every caprice of nature, still more varied⁵⁵ than those of the imagination, appeared on this grand coast, which extended over a length of eight or nine miles.

Cyrus Harding and his companions gazed, with a feeling of surprise bordering on stupefaction. But, although they remained silent, Top, not being troubled with feelings of this sort, uttered barks which were repeated by the thousand echoes of the basaltic cliff. The engineer even observed that these barks had something strange in them, like those which the dog had uttered at the mouth of the well in Granite House.

“Let us go close in,” said he.

And the “Bonadventure” sailed as near as possible to the rocky shore. Perhaps some cave, which it would be advisable to explore, existed there? But Harding saw nothing, not a cavern⁵⁶, not a cleft⁵⁷ which could serve as a retreat to any being whatever, for the foot of the cliff was washed by the surf. Soon Top’s barks ceased, and the vessel continued her course at a few cables-length from the coast.

In the northwest part of the island the shore became again flat and sandy. A few trees here and there rose above a low, marshy⁵⁸ ground, which the colonists had already surveyed, and in violent contrast to the other desert shore, life was again manifested by the presence of myriads⁵⁹ of water-fowl. That evening the “Bonadventure” anchored in a small bay to the north of the island, near the land, such was the depth of water there. The night passed quietly, for the breeze died away with the last light of day, and only rose again with the first streaks⁶⁰ of dawn.

As it was easy to land, the usual hunters of the colony, that is to say, Herbert and Gideon Spilett, went for a ramble⁶¹ of two hours or so, and returned with several strings⁶² of wild duck and snipe. Top had done wonders, and not a bird had been lost, thanks to his zeal¹⁷ and cleverness.

At eight o’clock in the morning the “Bonadventure” set sail, and ran rapidly towards North Mandible Cape¹⁹, for the wind was right astern and freshening rapidly.

“However,” observed Pencroft, “I should not be surprised if a gale came up from the west. Yesterday the sun set in a very red-looking horizon, and now, this morning, those mares-tails don’t forbode anything good.”

These mares-tails are cirrus clouds, scattered in the zenith, their height from the sea being less than five thousand feet. They look like light pieces of cotton wool, and their presence usually announces some sudden change in the weather.

“Well,” said Harding, “let us carry as much sail as possible, and run for shelter into Shark Gulf⁶³. I think that the ‘Bonadventure’ will be safe there.”

“Perfectly,” replied Pencroft, “and besides, the north coast is merely sand, very uninteresting to look at.”

“I shall not be sorry,” resumed the engineer, “to pass not only to-night but to-morrow in that bay, which is worth being carefully explored.”

“I think that we shall be obliged to do so, whether we like it or not,” answered Pencroft, “for the sky looks very threatening towards the west. Dirty weather is coming on!”

“At any rate we have a favorable wind for reaching Cape Mandible,” observed the reporter.

“A very fine wind,” replied the sailor; “but we must tack to enter the gulf, and I should like to see my way clear in these unknown quarters.”

“Quarters which appear to be filled with rocks,” added Herbert, “if we judge by what we saw on the south coast of Shark Gulf.”

“Pencroft,” said Cyrus Harding, “do as you think best, we will leave it to you.”

“Don’t make your mind uneasy, captain,” replied the sailor, “I shall not expose myself needlessly! I would rather a knife were run into my ribs⁶⁴ than a sharp rock into those of my ‘Bonadventure!’”

That which Pencroft called ribs was the part of his vessel under water, and he valued it more than his own skin.

“What o’clock is it?” asked Pencroft.

“Ten o’clock,” replied Gideon Spilett.

“And what distance is it to the Cape, captain?”

“About fifteen miles,” replied the engineer.

“That’s a matter of two hours and a half,” said the sailor, “and we shall be off the Cape between twelve and one o’clock. Unluckily, the tide will be turning at that moment, and will be ebbing⁶⁵ out of the gulf. I am afraid that it will be very difficult to get in, having both wind and tide against us.”

“And the more so that it is a full moon to-day,” remarked Herbert, “and these April tides are very strong.”

“Well, Pencroft,” asked Harding, “can you not anchor off the Cape?”

“Anchor near land, with bad weather coming on!” exclaimed the sailor. “What are you thinking of, captain? We should run aground, of a certainty!”

“What will you do then?”

“I shall try to keep in the offing until the flood, that is to say, till about seven in the evening, and if there is still light enough I will try to enter the gulf; if not, we must stand off and on during the night, and we will enter to-morrow at sunrise.”

“As I told you, Pencroft, we will leave it to you,” answered Harding.

“Ah!” said Pencroft, “if there was only a lighthouse on the coast, it would be much more convenient for sailors.”

“Yes,” replied Herbert, “and this time we shall have no obliging engineer to light a fire to guide us into port!”

“Why, indeed, my dear Cyrus,” said Spilett, “we have never thanked you; but frankly⁶⁶, without that fire we should never have been able—”

“A fire?” asked Harding, much astonished at the reporter’s words.

“We mean, captain,” answered Pencroft, “that on board the ‘Bonadventure’ we were very anxious during the few hours before our return, and we should have passed to windward of the island, if it had not been for the precaution you took of lighting⁶⁷ a fire the night of the 19th of October, on Prospect⁶⁸ Heights.”

“Yes, yes! That was a lucky idea of mine!” replied the engineer.

“And this time,” continued the sailor, “unless the idea occurs to Ayrton, there will be no one to do us that little service!”

“No! No one!” answered Cyrus Harding.

A few minutes after, finding himself alone in the bows of the vessel, with the reporter, the engineer bent⁶⁹ down and whispered,—

“If there is one thing certain in this world, Spilett, it is that I never lighted any fire during the night of the 19th of October, neither on Prospect Heights nor on any other part of the island!”