The Mysterious Island. Jules Verne
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indeed!” replied Gideon Spilett.
“But let’s not dwell on it at the moment, my dear Spilett. We’ll discuss it later.”
An instant later the sailor, Neb and Harbert returned.
There was no doubt possible. The engineer’s shoes fit the remaining footprints exactly. Therefore, it was indeed Cyrus Smith who had left them in the sand.
“So then,” he said, “it was I who experienced this hallucination, not Neb! I must’ve walked up here like a sleepwalker, without being conscious of my steps, and it was Top who instinctively led me here after having dragged me from the waves … Come Top! Come my dog!”
He had to lean on the sailor.
The magnificent animal ran to his master, barking, and was spared no caresses.
They agreed that there was no other explanation to be given to the events that led up to Cyrus Smith’s rescue and that all honor belonged to Top.
Around noontime, Pencroff asked Cyrus Smith if he was ready to travel. With an effort that attested to his very energetic will, Cyrus Smith responded by getting up. But he had to lean on the sailor or he would have fallen.
“Good! Good!” said Pencroff, “bring the engineer’s litter.”
The litter was brought. The transverse branches were covered with moss and long grass. They placed Cyrus Smith on it and started toward the coast, Pencroff carrying it at one end and Neb at the other.
There were eight miles to cover. Since they could not go fast and since it would be necessary to stop frequently, they would need at least six hours to get to the Chimneys. The wind was still strong but, fortunately, it was no longer raining. While lying down, the engineer rested on his arms and observed the coastline, especially the part opposite the sea. He did not speak but looked and this country with its rugged terrain, its forests, and its variety of flora impressed itself on his mind. However, after travelling for two hours, he was overcome by fatigue and he slept on the litter.
At five-thirty, the small group reached the cliff’s face, and a little later they were in front of the Chimneys. They stopped, and the litter was placed on the sand. Cyrus Smith was in a deep sleep and did not waken.
To his great surprise, Pencroff saw that the previous night’s frightful storm had altered the surroundings. A serious landslide had occurred. Large sections of rock were deposited on the beach, and a thick layer of seaweed, wrack and algae covered the entire shore. Evidently the sea, passing over the islet, had carried itself up to the very base of the enormous wall of granite. In front of the Chimneys the soil had deep holes due to the violent assault of the waves.
Pencroff had a premonition. He dashed into the corridor.
Almost immediately he came out, stood still, and looked at his companions.
The fire was extinguished. The drowned cinders were nothing but slime. The burnt linen, which was to have served as tinder, had disappeared. The sea had penetrated deeply into the passageways and had wrecked everything! All was demolished in the interior of the Chimneys!
Cyrus Smith was in a deep sleep.
*The yard is an American measure of length, equivalent to 0.99144 meters.
CHAPTER IX
In a few words Gideon Spilett, Harbert and Neb were brought up to date. This accident which could have very serious consequences—at least Pencroff envisioned it so—produced different reactions from the honest sailor’s companions.
Neb, in his joy at having found his master, did not listen, or rather did not wish to concern himself with what Pencroff was saying. Harbert, to some degree, shared the sailor’s apprehensions. As to the reporter, he simply responded:
“Honestly, Pencroff, I don’t care!”
“But I repeat that we no longer have any fire!”
“Pooh!”
“Nor any means of relighting it.”
“No problem!”
“Nevertheless, Mr. Spilett …”
“Isn’t Cyrus Smith here?” replied the reporter. “Isn’t our engineer alive? He will easily find the means of making us some fire, he will!”
“And with what?”
“With nothing.”
What answer could Pencroff give to that? There was no reply because, deep down, he shared the confidence that his companions had in Cyrus Smith. The engineer was for them a microcosm of all science and all human intelligence. Better to find oneself with Cyrus on a deserted island than without Cyrus in the most industrialized city of the Union. With him, they could want for nothing. With him, they could not despair. If someone were to tell these brave people that a volcanic eruption would annihilate this land, that it would be thrown into the depths of the Pacific, they would have calmly replied: “Cyrus is here. Go see Cyrus!”
In the meanwhile, however, the engineer had once more relapsed into an unconscious state brought on by the journey, and they could not call on his ingenuity at the moment. Supper would be necessarily meager. In fact all the grouse meat had been eaten, and there was no means whatsoever of roasting any game. Besides, the couroucous which served as a reserve had disappeared. Before anything else, Cyrus Smith was carried into the central corridor. There, they managed to arrange a couch of algae and seaweed which had remained almost dry. The deep sleep that took possession of him would doubtless do more to bring his strength back than any food.
Night came on, and the temperature dropped to freezing once more. Since the sea had destroyed Pencroff’s partitions, the air currents were strong, making the Chimneys barely habitable. The engineer would have found himself in a bad state if his companions, by removing their own jackets and waistcoats, had not carefully covered him. Supper that evening consisted only of the inevitable lithodomes amply gathered by Harbert and Neb on the shore. To these mollusks the boy added a certain quantity of edible algae that he collected on some high rocks that the sea could not reach except during extremely high tides. These algae belonged to the fucus family, being a species of sargassum which, when dry, furnishes a gelatinous material rather rich in nutrients. The reporter and his companions, after having eaten a considerable quantity of lithodomes, chewed on this sargassum which they found to have a good flavor. It should be said that, on Asiatic shores, they are an important food for the natives.
“No matter,” said the sailor, “Mr. Smith will soon help us.”
However, the cold became very intense and, unfortunately, they had no means of combatting it.
The sailor, truly vexed, looked for every possible way to make a fire. Neb even helped him with this. They found some dry moss and striking two pebbles they obtained some sparks; but the moss, not being sufficiently flammable, did not catch. Moreover, these sparks, which were only from incandescent flint, did not have the strength of those produced by a piece of steel in the ordinary tinder box, so the operation did not succeed.
Pencroff, although he had no confidence in the procedure, then tried rubbing two pieces of dry wood against each other the way the savages do. Certainly, if his and Neb’s physical efforts in this attempt had been transformed into heat, according to the latest theories, it would have been sufficient to fire the boiler of a steamer. But the result itself was negative. The wood heated up, that was all, and much less so than the operators themselves.
After working for an hour Pencroff was in a rage and he threw the pieces of wood away with disgust.
“When someone can make me believe that the savages