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

men of their own race, and their hearts beat high at the thought!

From time to time, Pencroff went to the window with the glass. From thence he examined the ship carefully. She was still twenty miles to the east, and they had no means of communication with her. Neither flag nor fire would have been seen; nor would the report of a gun be heard. Yet the island, with Mount Franklin towering high above it, must be visible to the lookout men on the ship. But why should the vessel land there? Was it not mere chance which brought it into that part of the Pacific, out of the usual track, and when Tabor Island was the only land indicated on the maps? But here a suggestion came from Herbert.

“May it not be the Duncan?” cried he.

The Duncan, as our readers will remember, was Lord Glenarvan’s yacht, which had abandoned Ayrton on the islet, and was one day to come back for him. Now the islet was not so far from Lincoln Island but that a ship steering for one might pass within sight of the other. They were only 150 miles distant in longitude, and 75 in latitude.

“We must warn Ayrton,” said Spilett, “and tell him to come at once. Only he can tell us whether she is the Duncan.”

This was every one’s opinion, and the reporter, going to the telegraph apparatus, which communicated with the corral, telegraphed. “Come at once.” Soon the wire clicked, “I am coming.” Then the colonists turned again to watch the ship.

“If it is the Duncan,” said Herbert, “Ayrton will readily recognize her, since he was aboard her so long.”

“It will make him feel pretty queer!” said Pencroff.

“Yes,” replied Smith, “but Ayrton is now worthy to go on board again, and may Heaven grant it to be indeed the Duncan! These are dangerous seas for Malay pirates.”

“We will fight for our island,” said Herbert.

“Yes, my boy,” answered the engineer, smiling, “but it will be better not to have to fight for her.”

“Let me say one thing,” said Spilett. “Our island is unknown to navigators, and it is not down in the most recent maps. Now, is not that a good reason for a ship which unexpectedly sighted it to try to run in shore?”

“Certainly,” answered Pencroff.

“Yes,” said the engineer, “it would even be the duty of the captain to report the discovery of any island not on the maps, and to do this he must pay it a visit.”

“Well,” said Pencroff, “suppose this ship casts anchor within a few cables’ length of our island, what shall we do?”

This downright question for a while remained unanswered. Then Smith, after reflection, said in his usual calm tone:—

“What we must do, my friends, is this. We will open communication with the ship, take passage on board of her, and leave our island, after having taken possession of it in the name of the United States of America.

Afterwards we will return with a band of permanent colonists, and endow our Republic with a useful station on the Pacific!”

“Good!” said Pencroff, “that will be a pretty big present to our country! We have really colonized it already. We have named every part of the island; there is a natural port, a supply of fresh water, roads, a line of telegraph, a wood yard, a foundry; we need only put the island on the maps!”

“But suppose some one else should occupy it while we are gone?” said Spilett.

“I would sooner stay here alone to guard it,” cried the sailor, “and, believe me, they would not steal it from me, like a watch from a gaby’s pocket!”

For the next hour, it was impossible to say whether or not the vessel was making for the island. She had drawn nearer, but Pencroff could not make out her course. Nevertheless, as the wind blew from the northeast, it seemed probable that she was on the starboard tack. Besides, the breeze blew straight for the landing, and the sea was so calm that she would not hesitate to steer for the island, though the soundings were not laid down in the charts.

About 4 o’clock, an hour after he had been telegraphed for, Ayrton arrived. He entered the great hall, saying, “Here I am, gentlemen.”

Smith shook hands with him, and drawing him to the window, “Ayrton,” said he, “we sent for you for a weighty reason. A ship is within sight of the island.”

For a moment Ayrton looked pale, and his eyes were troubled. Then he stooped down and gazed around the horizon.

“Take this spy-glass,” said Spilett, “and look well, Ayrton, for it may be the Duncan come to take you home.”

“The Duncan!” murmured Ayrton. “Already!”

The last word escaped him involuntarily and he buried his face in his hands. Did not twelve years’ abandonment on a desert island seem to him a sufficient expiation?

“No,” said he, “no, it cannot be the Duncan.”

“Look, Ayrton,” said the engineer, “for we must know beforehand with whom we have to deal.”

Ayrton took the glass and levelled it in the direction indicated. For some minutes he observed the horizon in silence. Then he said:—

“Yes, it is a ship, but I do not think it is the Duncan.

“Why not?” asked Spilett.

“Because the Duncan is a steam-yacht, and I see no trace of smoke about this vessel.”

“Perhaps she is only under sail,” observed Pencroff. “The wind is behind her, and she may want to save her coal, being go far from land.”

“You may be right, Mr. Pencroff,” said Ayrton. “But, let her come in shore, and we shall soon know what to make of her.”

So saying, he sat down in a corner and remained silent, taking no part in the noisy discussion about the unknown ship. No more work was done. Spilett and Pencroff were extremely nervous; they walked up and down, changing place every minute. Herbert’s feeling was one of curiosity. Neb alone remained calm; his master was his country. The engineer was absorbed in his thoughts, and was inclined to believe the ship rather an enemy than a friend. By the help of the glass they could make out that she was a brig, and not one of those Malay proas, used by the pirates of the Pacific. Pencroff, after a careful look, affirmed that the ship was square-rigged, and was running obliquely to the coast, on the starboard tack, under mainsail, topsail, and top-gallant sail set.

Just then the ship changed her tack, and drove straight towards the island. She was a good sailer, and rapidly neared the coast. Ayrton took the glass to try to ascertain whether or not she was the Duncan. The Scotch yacht, too, was square-rigged. The question therefore was whether a smokestack could be seen between the two masts of the approaching vessel. She was now only ten miles off, and the horizon was clear. Ayrton looked for a moment, and then dropped his glass.

“It is not the Duncan,” said he.

Pencroff sighted the brig again, and made out that she was from 300 to 400 tons burden, and admirably built for sailing. To what nation she belonged no one could tell.

“And yet,” added the sailor, “there’s a flag floating at her peak, but I can’t make out her colors.”

“In half an hour we will know for certain,” answered the reporter. “Besides, it is evident that their captain means to run in shore, and to-day, or to-morrow at latest, we shall make her acquaintance.”

“No matter, “said Pencroff, “we ought to know with whom we have to deal, and I shall be glad to make out those colors.”

And he kept the glass steadily at his eye. The daylight began to fail, and the sea-wind dropped with it. The brig’s flag wrapped itself around the tackle, and could hardly be seen.

“It is not the American flag,” said Pencroff, at intervals, “nor the English, whose red would be very conspicuous, nor the French, nor German colors, nor the white flag of Russia, nor the yellow flag of Spain. It seems to be of one solid color. Let us see; what would most likely be found in these waters? The Chilian—no, that flag is tri-colored; the Brazilian is green; the Japanese is black and yellow; while this—”

Just then a breeze struck the flag. Ayrton took the glass and raised it to his eyes.

“Black!” cried he, in a hollow voice.

They had suspected the vessel with good reason. The piratical ensign was fluttering at the peak!

A dozen ideas rushed across the minds of the colonists; but there was no doubt as to the meaning of the flag. It was the ensign of the spoilers of the sea; the ensign which the Duncan would have carried, if the convicts had succeeded in their criminal design. There was no time to be lost in discussion.

“My friends,” said Smith, “this vessel, perhaps, is only taking observations of the coast of our island, and will send no boats on shore. We must do all we can to hide our presence here. The mill on Prospect Plateau is too conspicuous. Let Ayrton and Neb go at once and take down its fans. “We must cover, the windows of Granite House under thicker branches. Let the fires be put out, and nothing be left to betray the existence of man!”

“And our sloop?” said Herbert.

“Oh,” said Pencroff, “she is safe in port in Balloon Harbor, and I defy the rascals to find her there!”

The engineer’s orders were instantly carried out. Neb and Ayrton went up to the plateau and concealed every trace of human habitation. Meanwhile their companions went to Jacamar Woods and brought back a great quantity of branches and climbing plants, which could not, from a distance, be distinguished from a natural foliation, and would hide well enough the windows in the rock. At the same time their arms and munitions were piled ready at hand, in case of a sudden attack. When all these precautions had been taken Smith turned to his comrades—

“My friends,” said he, in a voice full of emotion, “if these wretches try to get possession of the island we will defend it, will we not?”

“Yes, Cyrus,” answered the reporter, “and, if need be, we will die in its defense.”

And they shook hands upon it. Ayrton alone remained seated in his corner. Perhaps he who had been a convict himself once, still deemed himself unworthy! Smith understood what was passing in his mind, and, stepping towards him, asked

“And what will you do, Ayrton?”

“My duty,” replied Ayrton. Then he went to the window, and his eager gaze sought to penetrate the foliage. It was then half-past 7 o’clock. The sun had set behind Granite House twenty minutes before, and the eastern horizon was darkening. The brig was nearing Union Bay. She was now about eight miles away, and just abreast of Prospect Plateau, for having tacked off Claw Cape, she had been carried in by the rising tide. In fact she was already in the bay, for a straight line drawn from Claw Cape to Mandible Cape would have passed to the other side of her.

Was the brig going to run into the bay? And if so, would she anchor there? Perhaps they would be satisfied with taking an observation. They could do nothing but wait. Smith was profoundly anxious. Had the pirates been on the island before, since they hoisted their colors on approaching it? Might they not have effected a descent once before, and might not some accomplice be now concealed in the unexplored part of the island. They were determined to resist to the last extremity. All depended on the arms and the number of the pirates.

Night had come. The new moon had set a few moments after the sun. Profound darkness enveloped land and sea. Thick masses of clouds were spread over the sky. The wind had entirely died away. Nothing could be seen of the vessel, for all her lights were hidden—they could tell nothing of her whereabouts.

“Who knows?” said Pencroff. “Perhaps the confounded ship will be off by