The Mysterious Island - Jules Verne (beach read .txt) 📗

“They have blown up!” cried Herbert.

“Yes, blown up as if Ayrton had fired the magazine,” answered Pencroff, jumping into the elevator with Neb and the boy,

“But what has happened?” said Spilett, still stupefied at the unexpected issue.

“Ah, this time we shall find out⁠—” said the engineer,

“What shall we find out?”

“All in time; the chief thing is that the pirates have been disposed of.”

And they rejoined the rest of the party on beach. Not a sign of the brig could be seen, not even the masts. After having been upheaved by the waterspout, it had fallen back upon its side, and had sunk in this position, doubtless owing to some enormous leak. As the channel here was only twenty feet deep, the masts of the brig would certainly reappear at low tide.

Some waifs were floating on the surface of the sea. There was a whole float, made up of masts and spare yards, chicken coops with the fowls still living, casks and barrels, which little by little rose to the surface, having escaped by the traps; but no debris was adrift, no flooring of the deck, no plankage of the hull; and the sudden sinking of the Speedy seemed still more inexplicable.

However, the two masts, which had been broken some feet above the “partner,” after having snapped their stays and shrouds, soon rose to the surface of the channel, with their sails attached, some of them furled and some unfurled. But they could not wait for low tide to carry away all their riches, and Ayrton and Pencroff jumped into the canoe, for the purpose of lashing these waifs either to the shore of the island or of the islet. But just as they were about to start, they were stopped by a word from Spilett.

“And the six convicts who landed on the right bank of the Mercy,” said he.

In fact, it was as well to remember the six men who had landed at Jetsam Point, when their boat was wrecked off the rocks. They looked in that direction, but the fugitives were not to be seen. Very likely, when they saw the brig go down, they had taken flight into the interior of the island.

“We will see after them later,” said Smith. “They may still be dangerous, for they are armed; but with six to six, we have an even chance. Now we have more urgent work on hand.”

Ayrton and Pencroff jumped into the canoe and pulled vigorously out to the wreck. The sea was quiet now and very high, for the moon was only two days old. It would be a full hour before the hull of the brig would appear above the water of the channel.

Ayrton and Pencroff had time enough to lash together the masts and spars by means of ropes, whose other end was carried along the shore to Granite House, where the united efforts of the colonists succeeded in hauling them in. Then the canoe picked up the chicken coops, barrels, and casks which were floating in the water, and brought them to the Chimneys.

A few dead bodies were also floating on the surface. Among them Ayrton recognized that of Bob Harvey, and pointed it out to his companion, saying with emotion:⁠—

“That’s what I was, Pencroff.”

“But what you are no longer, my worthy fellow,” replied the sailor.

It was a curious thing that so few bodies could be seen floating on the surface. They could count only five or six, which the current was already carrying out to sea. Very likely the convicts, taken by surprise, had not had time to escape, and the ship having sunk on its side, the greater part of the crew were left entangled under the nettings. So the ebb which was carrying the bodies of these wretches out to sea would spare the colonists the unpleasant task of burying them on the island.

For two hours Smith and his companions were wholly occupied with hauling the spars up on the sands, and in unfurling the sails, which were entirely uninjured, and spreading them out to dry. The work was so absorbing that they talked but little; but they had time for thought. What a fortune was the possession of the brig, or rather of the brig’s contents! A ship is a miniature world, and the colonists could add to their stock a host of useful articles. It was a repetition, on a large scale, of the chest found on Jetsam Point.

“Moreover,” thought Pencroff, “why should it be impossible to get this brig afloat? If she has only one leak, a leak can be stopped up, and a ship of 300 or 400 tons is a real ship compared to our Good Luck! We would go where we pleased in her. We must look into this matter. It is well worth the trouble.”

In fact, if the brig could be repaired, their chance of getting home again would be very much greater. But in order to decide this important question, they must wait until the tide was at its lowest, so that the brig’s hull could be examined in every part.

After their prizes had been secured upon the beach, Smith and his companions, who were nearly famished, allowed themselves a few minutes for breakfast. Fortunately the kitchen was not far off, and Neb could cook them a good breakfast in a jiffy. They took this meal at the Chimneys, and one can well suppose that they talked of nothing during the repast but the miraculous deliverance of the colony.

“Miraculous is the word,” repeated Pencroff, “for we must own that these blackguards were blown up just in time! Granite House was becoming rather uncomfortable.”

“Can you imagine, Pencroff, how it happened that the brig blew up?” asked the reporter.

“Certainly, Mr. Spilett; nothing is more simple,” replied Pencroff. “A pirate is not under the same discipline as a ship-of-war. Convicts don’t make sailors. The brig’s magazine must have been open, since she cannonaded us incessantly, and one awkward fellow might have blown up