NIGHT AT SEA—SHARK GULF—CONFIDENCES—PREPARATIONS FOR WINTER—EARLY ADVENT OF BAD WEATHER—COLD—IN-DOOR WORK—SIX MONTHS LATER—A SPECK ON THE PHOTOGRAPH—AN UNEXPECTED EVENT.
The sailor’s predictions were well founded. The breeze changed to a strong blow such as would hare caused a ship in the open sea to have lowered her topmasts and sailed under close reefs. The sloop was opposite the gulf at 6 o’clock, but the tide was running out, so all that Pencroff could do was to bend the jib down to the mainmast as a stay-sail and lie to with the bows of the Good Luck pointing on shore.
Fortunately, although the wind was strong, the ocean, protected by the coast, was not very rough, and there was no danger from heavy seas, which would have tried the staunchness of the little craft. Pencroff, although he had every confidence in his boat, waited anxiously for daylight.
During the night Smith and Spilett had not another opportunity to talk alone, although the whispered words of the engineer made the reporter anxious to discuss with him again the mysterious influence which seemed to pervade Lincoln Island. Spilett could not rid himself of the thought of this new and inexplicable incident. He and his companions also had certainly seen this light, and yet Smith declared that he knew nothing about it.
He determined to return to this subject as soon as they returned home, and to urge Smith to inform their companions of these strange events. Perhaps, then, they would decide to make, altogether, a thorough search into every part of the island.
Whatever it was, no light appeared upon these unknown shores during this night, and at daylight the wind, which had moderated somewhat, shifted a couple of points, and permitted Pencroff to enter the gulf without difficulty. About 7 o’clock the Good Luck passed into these waters enclosed in a grotesque frame of lava.
“Here,” said Pencroff, “is a fine roadstead, where fleets could ride at ease.”
“It is curious,” remarked Smith, “that this gulf has been formed by two successive streams of lava, completely enclosing its waters; and it is probable that, in the worst weather, the sea here is perfectly calm.”
“It is a little too large for the Good Luck,” remarked the reporter.
“I admit that,” replied the sailor, “but if the navy of the United States needed a shelter in the Pacific, I don’t think they could find a better roadstead than this!”
“We are in the shark’s jaws,” said Neb, alluding to the form of the gulf.
“We are, indeed,” replied Herbert; “but, Neb, you are not afraid that they will close on us?”
“No, sir, not that; and yet I don’t like the looks of the place. It has a wicked aspect.”
“So Neb begins running down my roadstead just as I was thinking to offer it to the United States!” cried Pencroff.
“But are its waters deep enough?” asked the engineer.
“That is easily seen,” answered the sailor, taking the sounding line, which measured fifty fathoms, and letting it down. It unrolled to the end without touching bottom.
“There,” said Pencroff, “our iron-clads could come here without running aground!”
“In truth,” said Smith, “this gulf is an abyss; but when we remember the plutonic origin of the island, that is not extraordinary.”
“One might think,” said Herbert, “that these walls had been cut with an instrument, and I believe that at their very base, even with a line six times as long, we could not reach the bottom.”
“All this is very well,” said the reporter, “but I would suggest that Pencroff’s roadstead lacks one important element.”
“What is that?”
“A cut, or pathway of some kind, by which one could go inland. I do not see a place where there is even a foothold.”
And, indeed, these steep lava walls afforded no landing place on all their circumference. The Good Luck, skirting within touching distance of the lava, found no place where the passengers could disembark.
Pencroff consoled himself by saying that they could blow up the wall, if they wanted to, and then, as there was certainly nothing to be done here, he turned towards the narrow opening, which was passed at 2 o’clock.
Neb gave a long sigh of relief. It was evident that the brave negro had not been comfortable in those enormous jaws!
The sloop was now headed for Granite House, eight miles distant, and, with a fair wind, coasted along within a mile of the shore. The enormous lava rocks were soon succeeded by the oddly-disposed downs, among which the engineer had been so singularly discovered, and the place was covered with sea-birds.
Towards 4 o’clock, Pencroff, leaving the islet to the left, entered the channel separating it from the island, and an hour later cast anchor in the Mercy.
The colonists had been absent three days. Ayrton was waiting for them on the shore, and Jup came joyously to welcome them, grinning with satisfaction.
The entire exploration of the coast had been made, and nothing suspicious had been seen. So that if any mysterious being resided on the island, it must be under cover of the impenetrable woods on Serpentine Peninsula, which the colonists had not, as yet, investigated.
Spilett talked the matter over with the engineer, and it was agreed that they should call their comrades’ attention to these strange events, the last one of which was the most inexplicable of all.
“Are you sure you saw it, Spilett?” asked Smith, for the twentieth time. “Was it not a partial eruption of the volcano, or some meteor?”
“No, Cyrus, it wag certainly a fire lit by the hand of man. For that matter, question Pencroff and Herbert. They saw it also, and they will confirm my words.”
So, some evenings later, on the 26th of April, when all the colonists were gathered together on Prospect Plateau, Smith began:—
“My friends, I want to call your attention to certain things which are happening in our island, and to a subject on which I am anxious to have your advice. These things are almost supernatural—”
“Supernatural!” exclaimed the sailor, puffing his pipe. “Can anything be supernatural?”
“No, Pencroff, but certainly mysterious; unless, indeed, you can explain what Spilett and I have been unable to account for up to this time.”
“Let us hear it, Mr. Smith,” replied the sailor.
“Very well. Have you understood, then, how, after being thrown into the sea, I was found a quarter of a mile inland, without my having been conscious of getting there?”
“Possibly, having fainted,”—began the sailor.
“That is not admissible,” answered the engineer; “but, letting that go, have you understood how Top discovered your retreat five miles from the place where I lay?”
“The dog’s instinct,” replied Herbert.
“A singular instinct,” remarked the reporter, “since, in spite of the storm that was raging, Top arrived at the Chimneys dry and clean!”
“Let that pass,” continued the engineer; “have you understood how our dog was so strangely thrown up from the lake, after his struggle with the dugong?”
“No! that I avow,” replied Pencroff, “and the wound in the dugong which seemed to have been made by some sharp instrument, I don’t understand that at all.”
“Let us pass on again,” replied Smith. “Have you understood, my friends, how that leaden bullet was in the body of the peccary; how that box was so fortunately thrown ashore, without any trace of a shipwreck; how that bottle, enclosing the paper, was found so opportunely; how our canoe, having broken its rope, floated down the Mercy to us at the very moment when we needed it; how, after the invasion of the monkeys, the ladder was let down from Granite House; how, finally, the document, which Ayrton pretends not to have written, came into our hands?”
Smith had thus enumerated, without forgetting one, the strange events that had happened on the island. Herbert, Pencroff, and Neb looked at each other, not knowing what to say, as this succession of events, thus grouped together, gave them the greatest surprise.
“Upon my faith,” said Pencroff, at length, “you are right, Mr. Smith, and it is hard to explain those things.”
“Very well, my friends,” continued the engineer, “one thing more is to be added, not less incomprehensible than the others!”
“What is that?” demanded Herbert, eagerly.
“When you returned from Tabor Island, Pencroff, you say that you saw a light on Lincoln Island?”
“Certainly I did.”
“And you are perfectly sure that you saw it?”
“As sure as that I see you.”
“And you, Herbert?”
“Why, Mr. Smith,” cried Herbert, “it shone like a star of the first magnitude!”
“But was it not a star?” insisted the engineer.
“No,” replied Pencroff, “because the sky was covered with heavy clouds, and, under any circumstances, a star would not have been so low on the horizon. But Mr. Spilett saw it, and he can confirm what we say.”
“I would add,” said the reporter, “that it was as bright as an electric light.”
“Yes, and it was certainly placed above Granite House!” exclaimed Herbert.
“Very well, my friends,” replied Smith, “during all that night neither Neb nor I lit any fire at all!”
“You did not!—” cried Pencroff, so overcome with astonishment that he could not finish the sentence.
“We did not leave Granite House, and if any fire appeared upon the coast, it was lit by another hand!”
The others were stupefied with amazement. Undoubtedly a mystery existed! Some inexplicable influence, evidently favorable to the colonists, but exciting their curiosity, made itself felt upon Lincoln Island. Was there then some being hidden in its innermost retreats? They wished to know this, cost what it might!
Smith also recalled to his companions the singular actions of Top and Jup, about the mouth of the well, and he told them that he had explored its depths without discovering anything. And the conversation ended by a determination, on the part of the colonists, to make a thorough search of the island as soon as the spring opened.
After this Pencroff became moody. This island, which he had looked upon as his own, did not belong to him alone, but was shared by another, to whom, whether he would or not, the sailor felt himself inferior. Neb and he often discussed these inexplicable circumstances, and readily concluded that Lincoln Island was subject to some supernatural influence.
The bad weather began early, coming in with May; and the winter occupations were undertaken without delay. The colonists were well protected from the rigor of the season. They had plenty of felt clothing, and the moufflons had furnished a quantity of wool for its further manufacture.
Ayrton had been comfortably clothed, and when the bad weather began, he had returned to Granite House; but he remained humble and sad, never joining in the amusements of his companions.
The most of this third winter was passed by the colonists indoors at Granite House. The storms were frequent and terrible, the sea broke over the islet, and any ship driven upon the coast would have been lost without any chance of rescue. Twice the Mercy rose to such a height that the bridge and causeways were in danger of destruction. Often the gusts of wind, mingled with snow and rain, damaged the fields and the poultry-yard, and made constant repairs necessary.
In the midst of this season, some jaguars and quadrumanes came to the very border of the plateau, and there was danger of the bolder of these beasts making a descent on the fields and domestic animals of the colonists. So that a constant watch had to be kept upon these dangerous visitors, and this, together with the work indoors, kept the little party in Granite House busy.
Thus the winter passed, with now and then a grand hunt in the frozen marshes of Tadorn’s Fen. The damage done to the corral during the winter was unimportant, and was soon repaired by Ayrton, who, in the latter part of October, returned there to spend some days at work.
The winter had passed without any new incident. Top and Jup passed by the well without giving any sign of anxiety, and it seemed as if the series of supernatural events had been interrupted. Nevertheless, the colonists were fixed in their determination to make a thorough exploration of the most inaccessible parts of the island, when an event of the gravest moment, which set aside all the plans of Smith and his companions, happened.
It was the 28th of October. Spring was rapidly approaching, and the young leaves were appearing on the trees on the edge of the forest. Herbert, tempted by the beauty of the day, determined to take a photograph of Union Bay, as it lay facing Prospect Plateau, between Mandible and Claw Capes.
It was 3 o’clock, the horizon was perfectly clear, and the sea, just stirred by the breeze, scintillated with light. The instrument had been placed at one of the windows of Granite House, and the lad, having secured his negative, took the glass into the dark room, where the chemicals were kept, in order to fix it. Returning to the light, after this operation, he saw a speck on the plate, just at the horizon, which he was unable to wash out.
“It is a defect in the glass,” he thought.
And then he was seized by a curiosity to examine this speck by means of a magnifying glass made from one of the lenses of the instrument.
Hardly had he given one look, when, uttering a cry of amazement, he ran with the plate and the glass to Smith. The latter examined the speck, and immediately seizing the spy-glass hurried to the window.
The engineer, sweeping the horizon with the glass, found the speck, and spoke one word. “A ship!”
In truth, a ship was in sight of Lincoln Island.
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