The Mysterious Island by Jules Verne (list of ebook readers txt) 📗

it, their speed was excellent. After doubling Jetsam Point and Claw Cape, Pencroff had to lie close to the wind in order to skirt along the shore, and he observed the Good Luck would sail to within five points of the wind, and that she made but little lee-way. She sailed very well, also, before the wind, minding her helm perfectly, and gained even in going about.

The passengers were enchanted. They had a good boat, which, in case of need, could render them great service, and in this splendid weather, with the fair wind, the sail was delightful. Pencroff stood out to sea two or three miles, opposite Balloon Harbor, and then the whole varied panorama of the island from Claw Cape to Reptile Promontory was visible under a new aspect. In the foreground were the pine forests, contrasting with the foliage of the other trees, and over all rose Mt. Franklin, its head white with snow.

“How beautiful it is!” exclaimed Herbert.

“Yes, she is a pretty creature,” responded Pencroff. “I love her as a mother. She received us poor and needy, and what has she denied to these five children who tumbled upon her out of the sky?”

“Nothing, captain, nothing,” answered Neb. And the two honest fellows gave three hearty cheers in honor of their island.

Meantime, Spilett, seated by the mast, sketched the panorama before him, while Smith looked on in silence.

“What do you say of our boat, now, sir?” demanded Pencroff.

“It acts very well,” replied the engineer.

“Good. And now don’t you think it could undertake a voyage of some length?”

“Where, Pencroff?”

“To Tabor Island, for instance.”

“My friend,” replied the engineer, “I believe that in a case of necessity there need be no hesitancy in trusting to the Good Luck even for a longer journey; but, you know, I would be sorry to see you leave for Tabor Island, because nothing obliges you to go.”

“One likes to know one’s neighbors,” answered Pencroff, whose mind was made up. “Tabor Island is our neighbor, and is all alone. Politeness requires that at least we make her a visit.”

“The mischief!” exclaimed Spilett, “our friend Pencroff is a stickler for propriety.”

“I am not a stickler at all,” retorted the sailor, who was a little vexed by the engineer’s opposition.

“Remember, Pencroff,” said Smith, “that you could not go the island alone.”

“One other would be all I would want.”

“Supposing so,” replied the engineer, “would you risk depriving our colony of five, of two of its colonists?”

“There are six,” rejoined Pencroff. “You forget Jup.”

“There are seven,” added Neb. “Top is as good as another.”

“There is no risk in it, Mr. Smith,” said Pencroff again.

“Possibly not, Pencroff; but, I repeat, that it is exposing oneself without necessity.”

The obstinate sailor did not answer, but let the conversation drop for the present. He little thought that an incident was about to aid him, and change to a work of humanity what had been merely a caprice open to discussion.

The Good Luck, after having stood out to sea, was returning towards the coast and making for Balloon Harbor, as it was important to locate the channel-way between the shoals and reefs so as to buoy them, for this little inlet was to be resting place of the sloop.

They were half a mile off shore, beating up to windward and moving somewhat slowly, as the boat was under the lee of the land. The sea was as smooth as glass. Herbert was standing in the bows indicating the channel-way. Suddenly he cried:—

“Luff, Pencroff, luff.”

“What is it?” cried the sailor, springing to his feet. “A rock?”

“No—hold on, I cannot see very well—luff again—steady—bear away a little—” and while thus speaking, the lad lay down along the deck, plunged his arm quickly into the water, and then rising up again with something in his hand, exclaimed:—

“It is a bottle!”

Smith took it, and without saying a word, withdrew the cork and took out a wet paper, on which was written these words:—

“A shipwrecked man—Tabor Island:—l53° W. lon.—37° 11’ S. lat.”

CHAPTER XXXV.

DEPARTURE DECIDED UPON—PREPARATIONS—THE THREE PASSENGERS—THE FIRST NIGHT—THE SECOND NIGHT—TABOR ISLAND—SEARCH ON THE SHORE—SEARCH IN THE WOODS—NO ONE—ANIMALS—PLANTS—A HOUSE—DESERTED.

“Some one shipwrecked!” cried Pencroff, “abandoned some hundred miles from us upon Tabor Island! Oh! Mr. Smith, you will no longer oppose my project!”

“No, Pencroff, and you must leave as soon as possible.”.

“To-morrow?”

“To-morrow.”

The engineer held the paper which he had taken from the bottle in his hand. He considered for a few moments, and then spoke:—

“From this paper, my friends,” said he, “and from the manner in which it is worded, we must conclude that, in the first place, the person cast away upon Tabor Island is a man well informed, since he gives the latitude and longitude of his island exactly; secondly, that he is English or American, since the paper is written in English.”

“That is a logical conclusion,” answered Spilett, “and the presence of this person explains the arrival of the box on our coast. There has been a shipwreck, since some one has been shipwrecked. And he is fortunate in that Pencroff had the idea of building this boat and even of trying it to-day, for in twenty-four hours the bottle would have been broken on the rocks.”

“Indeed,!’ said Herbert, “it is a happy chance that the Good Luck passed by the very spot where this bottle was floating.”

“Don’t it seem to you odd?” asked Smith of Pencroff.

“It seems fortunate, that’s all,” replied the sailor. “Do you see anything extraordinary in it, sir? This bottle must have gone somewhere, and why not here as well as anywhere else?”

“Perhaps you are right, Pencroff,” responded the engineer, “and nevertheless—”

“But,” interrupted Herbert, “nothing proves that this bottle has floated in the water for a long time.”

“Nothing,” responded Spilett, “and moreover the paper seems to have been recently written. What do you think, Cyrus?”

“It is hard to decide.” answered Smith..

Meanwhile Pencroff had not been idle. He had gone about, and the Good Luck, with a free wind, all her sails drawing, was speeding toward Claw Cape. Each one thought of the castaway on Tabor Island. Was there still time to save him? This was a great event in the lives of the colonists. They too were but castaways, but it was not probable that another had been as favored as they had been, and it was their duty to hasten at once to this one’s relief. By 2 o’clock Claw Cape was doubled, and the Good Luck anchored at the mouth of the Mercy.

That evening all the details of the expedition were arranged. It was agreed that Herbert and Pencroff, who understood the management of a boat, were to undertake the voyage alone. By leaving the next day, the 11th of October, they would reach the island, supposing the wind continued, in forty-eight hours. Allowing for one day there, and three or four days to return in, they could calculate on being at Lincoln Island again on the 17th. The weather was good, the barometer rose steadily, the wind seemed as if it would continue, everything favored these brave men, who were going so far to do a humane act.

Thus, Smith, Neb, and Spilett was to remain at Granite House; but at the last moment, the latter, remembering his duty as reporter to the New York Herald, having declared that he would swim rather than lose such an opportunity, was allowed to take part in the voyage.

The evening was employed in putting bedding, arms, munitions, provisions, etc., on board, and the next morning, by 5 o’clock, the good-byes were spoken, and Pencroff, hoisting the sails, headed for Claw Cape, which had to be doubled before taking the route to the southeast. The Good Luck was already a quarter of a mile from shore when her passengers saw upon the heights of Granite House two men signalling farewells. They were Smith and Neb, from whom they were separating for the first time in fifteen months.

Pencroff, Herbert, and the reporter returned the signal, and soon Granite House disappeared behind the rocks of the Cape.

During the morning, the Good Luck remained in view of the southern coast of the island, which appeared like a green clump of trees, above which rose Mount Franklin. The heights, lessened by distance, gave it an appearance little calculated to attract ships on its coasts. At 1 o’clock Reptile Promontory was passed ten miles distant. It was therefore impossible to distinguish the western coast, which extended to the spurs of the mountain, and three hours later, Lincoln Island had disappeared behind the horizon.

The Good Luck behaved admirably. She rode lightly over the seas and sailed rapidly. Pencroff had set his topsail, and with a fair wind he followed a straight course by the compass. Occasionally Herbert took the tiller, and the hand of the young lad was so sure, that the sailor had nothing to correct.

Spilett chatted with one and the other, and lent a hand when necessary in manœuvring the sloop. Captain Pencroff was perfectly satisfied with his crew, and was constantly promising them an extra allowance of grog.

In the evening the slender crescent of the moon glimmered in the twilight. The night came on dark but starlit, with the promise of a fine day on the morrow. Pencroff thought it prudent to take in the topsail, which was perhaps an excess of caution in so still a night, but he was a careful sailor, and was not to be blamed.

The reporter slept during half the night, Herbert and Pencroff taking two-hour turns at the helm. The sailor had as much confidence in his pupil as he had in himself, and his trust was justified by the coolness and judgment of the lad. Pencroff set the course as a captain to his helmsman, and Herbert did not allow the Good Luck to deviate a point from her direction.

The night and the next day passed quietly and safely. The Good Luck held her southeast course, and, unless she was drawn aside by some unknown current, she would make Tabor Island exactly. The sea was completely deserted, save that sometimes an albatross or frigate-bird passed within gun-shot distance.

“And yet,” said Herbert, “this is the season when the whalers usually come towards the southern part of the Pacific. I don’t believe that there is a sea more deserted than this.”

“It is not altogether deserted,” responded Pencroff.

“What do you mean?”

“Why we are here. Do you take us for porpoises or our sloop for driftwood?” And Pencroff laughed at his pleasantry.

By evening they calculated the distance traversed at 130 miles, or three and a third miles an hour. The breeze was dying away, but they had reason to hope, supposing their course to have been correct, that they would sight Tabor Island at daylight.

No one of the three slept during this night. While waiting for morning they experienced the liveliest emotions. There was so much uncertainty in their enterprise. Were they near the island? Was the shipwrecked man still there? Who was he? Might not his presence disturb the unity of the colony? Would he, indeed, consent to exchange one prison for another? All these questions, which would doubtless be answered the next day, kept them alert, and at the earliest dawn they began to scan the western horizon.

What was the joy of the little crew when towards 6 o’clock Pencroff shouted—

“Land!”

In a few hours they would be upon its shore.

The island was a low coast, raised but a little above the waves, not more than fifteen miles away. The sloop, which had been heading south of it, was put about, and, as the sun rose, a few elevations became visible here and there.

“It is not as large as Lincoln Island,” said Herbert, “and probably owes its origin to like submarine convulsions.”

By 11 o’clock the Good Luck was only two miles distant from shore, and Pencroff, while seeking some place to land, sailed with extreme caution through these unknown waters. They could see the whole extent of this island, on which were visible groups of gum and other large trees of the same species as those on Lincoln Island. But, it was astonishing, that no rising smoke indicated that the place was inhabited, nor was any signal visible upon the shore. Nevertheless the paper had been precise: it stated that there was a shipwrecked man here; and he should have been upon the watch.

Meanwhile the Good Luck went in through the tortuous passages between the reefs, Herbert steering, and the sailor stationed forward, keeping a sharp lookout, with the halliards in his hand, ready to run down the sail. Spilett, with the spy-glass, examined all the shore without perceiving anything. By noon the sloop touched the beach, the anchor was let go, the sails furled, and the crew stepped on shore.

There could be no doubt that that was