The Mysterious Island - Jules Verne (best fiction books of all time .txt) 📗

run if we are on our guard?” said Herbert.

“H’m!” said the reporter, doubtfully. “There are six of them, well armed. If each of them sighted one of us from behind a tree—”

“Why haven’t they tried it already?” said Herbert. “Evidently it was not their cue.”

“Very well, then,” said the sailor, who was stubborn in his opinion, “we will let these worthy fellows attend to their innocent occupations without troubling our heads about them.”

“Pencroff,” said the engineer, “you have often shown respect for my opinions. Will you trust me once again?”

“I will do whatever you say, Mr. Smith,” said the sailor, nowise convinced.

“Well, let us wait, and not be the first to attack.”

This was the final decision, with Pencroff in the minority. They would give the pirates a chance, which their own interest might induce them to seize upon, to come to terms. So much, humanity required of them. But they would have to be constantly on their guard, and the situation was a very serious one. They had silenced Pencroff, but, perhaps, after all, his advice would prove sound.

 

CHAPTER XLVIII.

 

THE PROJECTED EXPEDITION—AYRTON AT THE CORRAL—VISIT TO PORT BALLOON—PENCROFF’S REMARKS—DESPATCH SENT TO THE CORRAL—NO ANSWER FROM AYRTON—SETTING OUT NEXT DAY—WHY THE WIRE DID NOT ACT—A DETONATION.

Meanwhile the thing uppermost in the colonists’ thought was to achieve the complete exploration of the island which had been decided upon, an exploration which now would have two objects: —First, to discover the mysterious being whose existence was no longer a matter of doubt; and, at the same time to find out what had become of the pirates, what hiding place they had chosen, what sort of life they were leading, and what was to be feared from them.

Smith would have set off at once, but as the expedition would take several days, it seemed better to load the wagon with all the necessaries for camping out. Now at this time one of the onagers, wounded in the leg, could not bear harness; it must have several days’ rest, and they thought it would make little difference if they delayed the departure a week, that is, till November 20. November in this latitude corresponds to the May of the Northern Hemisphere, and the weather was fine. They were now at the longest days in the year, so that everything was favorable to the projected expedition, which, if it did not attain its principal object, might be fruitful in discoveries, especially of the products of the soil; for Smith intended to explore those thick forests of the Far West, which stretched to the end of Serpentine Peninsula.

During the nine days which would precede their setting out, it was agreed that they should finish work on Prospect Plateau. But Ayrton had to go back to the corral to take care of their domesticated animals. It was settled that he should stay there two days, and leave the beasts with plenty of fodder. Just as he was setting out, Smith asked him if he would like to have one of them with him, as the island was no longer secure. Ayrton replied that it would be useless, as he could do everything by himself, and that there was no danger to fear. If anything happened at or near the corral, he would instantly acquaint the colonists of it by a telegram sent to Granite House.

So Ayrton drove off in the twilight, about 9 o’clock, behind one onager, and two hours afterwards the electric wire gave notice that he had found everything in order at the corral.

During these two days Smith was busy at a project which would finally secure Granite House from a surprise. The point was to hide completely the upper orifice of the former weir, which had been already blocked up with stones, and half hidden under grass and plants, at the southern angle of Lake Grant. Nothing could be easier, since by raising the level of the lake two or three feet, the hole would be entirely under water.

Now to raise the level, they had only to make a dam across the two trenches by which Glycerine Creek and Waterfall Creek were fed. The colonists were incited to the task, and the two dams, which were only seven or eight feet long, by three feet high, were rapidly erected of closely cemented stones. When the work had been done, no one could have suspected the existence of the subterranean conduit. The little stream which served to feed the reservoir at Granite House, and to work the elevator, had been suffered to flow in its channel, so that water might never be wanting. The elevator once raised, they might defy attack.

This work had been quickly finished, and Pencroff, Spilett, and Herbert found time for an expedition to Port Balloon. The sailor was anxious to know whether the little inlet up which the Good Luck was moored had been visited by the convicts.

“These gentry got to land on the southern shore,” he observed, “and if they followed the line of the coast they may have discovered the little harbor, in which case I wouldn’t give half a dollar for our Good Luck.”

So off the three went in the afternoon of November 10. They were well armed, and as Pencroff slipped two bullets into each barrel of his gun, he had a look which presaged no good to whoever came too near, “beast or man,” as he said. Neb went with them to the elbow of the Mercy, and lifted the bridge after them. It was agreed that they should give notice of their return by firing a shot, when Neb would come back to put down the bridge.

The little band walked straight for the south coast. The distance was only three miles and a half, but they took two hours to walk it. They searched on both sides of the way, both the forest and Tadorn’s Fens; but they found no trace of the fugitives. Arriving at Port Balloon, they saw with great satisfaction that the Good Luck was quietly moored in the narrow inlet, which was so well hidden by the rocks that it could be seen neither from sea nor shore, but only from directly above or below.

“After all,” said Pencroff, “the rascals haven’t been here. The vipers like tall grass better, and we shall find them in the Far-West.”

“And it’s a fortunate thing,” added Herbert, “for if they had found the Good Luck, they would have made use of her in getting away, and we could never have gone back to Tabor Island.”

“Yes,” replied the reporter, “it will be important to put a paper there stating the situation of Lincoln Island, Ayrton’s new residence, in case the Scotch yacht should come after him.”

“Well, here is our Good Luck, Mr. Spilett,” said the sailor, “ready to start with her crew at the first signal!”

Talking thus, they got on board and walked about the deck. On a sudden the sailor, after examining the bit around which the cable of the anchor was wound, cried,

“Hallo! this is a bad business!”

“What’s the matter, Pencroff?” asked the reporter.

“The matter is that that knot was never tied by me——”

And Pencroff pointed to a rope which made the cable fast to the bit, so as to prevent its tripping.

“How, never tied by you?” asked Spilett.

“No, I can swear to it. I never tie a knot like that.”

“You are mistaken, Pencroff.”

“No, I’m not mistaken,” insisted the sailor. “That knot of mine is second nature with me.”

“Then have the convicts been on board?” asked Herbert.

“I don’t know,” said Pencroff, “but somebody has certainly raised and dropped this anchor!”

The sailor was so positive that neither Spilett nor Herbert could contest his assertion. It was evident that the beat had shifted place more or less since Pencroff had brought it back to Balloon Harbor. As for the sailor, he had no doubt that the anchor had been pulled up and cast again. Now, why had these manœuvres taken place unless the boat had been used on some expedition?

“Then why did we not see the Good Luck pass the offing?” said the reporter, who wanted to raise every possible objection.

“But, Mr. Spilett,” answered the sailor, “they could have set out in the night with a good wind, and in two hours have been out of sight of the island.”

“Agreed,” said Spilett, but I still ask with what object the convicts used the Good Luck, and why, after using her, they brought her back to port?”

“Well, Mr. Spilett,” said the sailor, “we will have to include that among our mysterious incidents, and think no more of it. One thing is certain, the Good Luck was there, and is here! If the convicts take it a second time, it may never find its way back again.”

“Then, Pencroff,” said Herbert, “perhaps we had better take the Good Luck back and anchor her in front of Granite House.”

“I can hardly say,” answered the sailor, “but I think not. The mouth of the Mercy is a bad place for a ship; the sea is very heavy there.”

“But by hauling it over the sand to the foot of the Chimneys——”

“Well, perhaps,” answered Pencroff. “In any case, as we have to leave Granite House for a long expedition, I believe the Good Luck will be safer here during oar absence, and he will do well to leave her here until the island is rid of these rascals.”

“That is my opinion, too,” said the reporter. At least in case of bad weather, she will not be exposed as she would be at the mouth of the Mercy.”

“But if the convicts should pay her another visit?” said Herbert.

“Well, my boy,” said Pencroff, “if they do not find the boat here they will search until they do find her; and in our absence there is nothing to prevent their carrying her off from the front of Granite House. I agree with Mr. Spilett that we had better leave her at Balloon Harbor; but if we have not rid the island of these wretches by the time we come back it will be more prudent to take our ship back to Granite House, until we have nothing more to fear from our enemies.”

“All right,” said Spilett. “Let us go back now.”

When they returned to Granite House, they told Smith what had happened, and the latter approved their present and future plans. He even promised Pencroff he would examine that part of the channel situated between the island and the coast, so as to see if it would be possible to make an artificial harbor by means of a dam. In this way the Good Luck would be always within reach, in sight of the colonists, and locked up if necessary.

On the same evening they sent a telegram to Ayrton, asking him to bring back from the corral a couple of goats, which Neb wished to acclimatize on the plateau. Strange to say, Ayrton did not acknowledge the receipt of this despatch, as was his custom to do. This surprised the engineer, but he concluded that Ayrton was not at the corral at the moment, and perhaps had started on his way back to Granite House. In fact, two days had elapsed since his departure; and it had been agreed that on the evening of the 10th or the morning of the 11th, at latest, he would return.

The colonists were now waiting to see Ayrton on Prospect Plateau. Neb and Herbert both looked after the approach by way of the bridge, so as to let it down when their companion should appear, but when 6 o’clock in the evening came, and there was no sign of Ayrton, they agreed to send another despatch, asking for an immediate answer.

The wire at Granite House remained silent.

The uneasiness of the colonists was now extreme. What had happened? “Was Ayrton not at the corral? or, if there, had he not power over his own movements? Ought they to go in search of him on this dark night?

They discussed the point. Some