Part 19

It might have been thought that an enormous cartload of rocks had been emptied there. No vegetation on this very sharp promontory, which extended two miles in advance of the forest, and this point bore a fair resemblance to the arm of a giant that had issued from a sleeve of verdure.

The canoe, propelled by the two oars, advanced without difficulty. Gédéon Spilett, pencil in one hand, notebook in the other, was sketching the coast with broad strokes.

Nab, Pencroff, and Harbert were talking as they examined this part of their domain, new to their eyes, and, as the pirogue descended toward the south, the two Mandible Capes appeared to shift and close more tightly upon Union Bay.

As for Cyrus Smith, he did not speak, he looked, and, from the distrust expressed in his gaze, it seemed ever as though he were observing some strange country.

However, after three quarters of an hour of navigation, the pirogue had almost reached the extremity of the point, and Pencroff was preparing to round it, when Harbert, rising, pointed out a black spot, saying:

“What is it that I see yonder on the shore?”

All eyes turned toward the indicated point.

“Indeed,” said the reporter, “there is something. It looks like a wreck half sunk in the sand.”

“Ah!” cried Pencroff, “I see what it is!”

“What then?” asked Nab.

“Barrels, barrels, that may be full!” answered the sailor.

“To shore, Pencroff!” said Cyrus Smith.

With a few strokes of the oar, the pirogue landed at the bottom of a small cove, and its passengers leaped onto the beach.

Pencroff had not been mistaken. Two barrels were there, half sunk in the sand, but still solidly attached to a wide chest which, supported by them, had thus floated until the moment it ran aground on the shore.

“There has then been a shipwreck in the waters of the island?” asked Harbert.

“Evidently,” replied Gédéon Spilett.

“But what is in this chest?” cried Pencroff with a very natural impatience. “What is in this chest? It is closed, and nothing to break the lid with! Well then, with stones—”

And the sailor, lifting a heavy block, was about to smash in one of the sides of the chest, when the engineer stopped him:

“Pencroff,” he said to him, “can you moderate your impatience for just one hour?”

“But, Mr. Cyrus, think! There may be inside everything we lack!”

“We shall know, Pencroff,” replied the engineer, “but trust me, do not break this chest, which may be useful to us. Let us carry it to Granite-House, where we shall open it more easily and without breaking it. It is all prepared for the voyage, and, since it has floated thus far, it will float well enough yet to the mouth of the river.”

“You are right, Mr. Cyrus, and I was wrong,” answered the sailor, “but one is not always master of oneself!”

The engineer’s advice was wise. Indeed, the pirogue could not have contained the objects probably enclosed in this chest, which must be heavy, since it had been necessary to “lighten” it by means of two empty barrels. Therefore, it was better to tow it thus to the shore of Granite-House.

And now, whence came this wreck? That was an important question. Cyrus Smith and his companions looked attentively around them and traversed the shore over a space of several hundred paces. No other debris appeared to them.

The sea was observed likewise. Harbert and Nab climbed a high rock, but the horizon was deserted. Nothing in sight, neither a dismasted vessel nor a ship under sail.

However, there had been a shipwreck, that was not doubtful. Perhaps even this incident was connected with the incident of the grain of lead? Perhaps strangers had landed at another point of the island? Perhaps they were still there? But the reflection that the colonists naturally made was that these strangers could not be Malay pirates, for the wreck was evidently of either American or European origin.

All returned to the chest, which measured five feet long by three wide. It was of oak wood, very carefully closed, and covered with a thick hide held by copper nails. The two large casks, hermetically bunged, but which were felt to be empty from their sound, adhered to its sides by means of strong cords, tied with knots that Pencroff readily recognized as “sailor’s knots.” It appeared to be in a perfect state of preservation, which was explained by the fact that it had stranded on a sandy beach and not on reefs. One might even affirm, on examining it closely, that its sojourn in the sea had not been long, and also that its arrival on this shore was recent. The water did not seem to have penetrated within, and the objects it contained must be intact.

It was evident that this chest had been thrown overboard from a dismasted ship, drifting toward the island, and that, in the hope that it would reach the coast, where they would find it later, passengers had taken the precaution of lightening it by means of a floating apparatus.

“We are going to tow this wreck to Granite-House,” said the engineer, “and we will make an inventory of it; then, if we discover on the island some survivors of this presumed shipwreck, we will return it to those to whom it belongs. If we find no one—”

“We will keep it for ourselves!” cried Pencroff. “But, for heaven’s sake, what can there be inside!”

The tide was already beginning to reach the wreck, which must evidently float at full sea. One of the cords attaching the barrels was partly unwound and served as a mooring to fasten the floating apparatus to the canoe. Then, Pencroff and Nab dug out the sand with their oars, to facilitate the moving of the chest, and soon the boat, towing the chest, began to round the point, to which was given the name of Wreck Point (flotson-point). The tow was heavy, and the barrels scarcely sufficed to keep the chest out of the water. Also the sailor feared every instant that it would detach and sink to the bottom. But, happily, his fears were not realized, and an hour and a half after his departure—all that time had been needed to cover this distance of three miles—the pirogue came alongside the shore before Granite-House.

Canoe and wreck were then hauled onto the sand, and, as the sea was already retreating, they soon remained dry. Nab had gone to fetch tools to force the chest, so as to damage it as little as possible, and they proceeded to its inventory.

Pencroff did not seek to hide that he was extremely moved.

The sailor began by detaching the two barrels, which, being in very good condition, could be used, that goes without saying. Then, the locks were forced with a pair of pincers, and the lid fell back at once. A second envelope of zinc lined the inside of the chest, which had evidently been arranged so that the objects it contained should be, in all circumstances, sheltered from dampness.

“Ah!” cried Nab, “would it be canned goods that are in there!”

“I hope not,” replied the reporter.

“If only there were…” said the sailor in a low voice.

“What then?” asked Nab, who heard him.

“Nothing!”

The sheet of zinc was split across its whole width, then folded back on the sides of the chest, and, little by little, various objects of very different nature were extracted and laid upon the sand. At each new object, Pencroff uttered new hurrahs, Harbert clapped his hands, and Nab danced… like a negro. There were books there that would have driven Harbert wild with joy, and kitchen utensils that Nab would have covered with kisses!

Moreover, the colonists had reason to be extremely satisfied, for this chest contained tools, weapons, instruments, clothing, books, and here is the exact nomenclature of it, as it was entered in Gédéon Spilett’s notebook:

Tools: 3 clasp-knives with several blades.

2 lumberjacks’ axes.

2 carpenters’ axes.

Tools: 3 planes.

2 adzes.

1 mattock.

6 cold chisels.

2 files.

3 hammers.

3 gimlets.

2 augers.

10 bags of nails and screws.

3 saws of various sizes.

Tools: 2 boxes of needles.

Weapons: 2 flintlock rifles.

2 percussion-cap rifles.

2 central-fire carbines.

5 cutlasses.

4 boarding sabers.

2 barrels of powder, each capable of holding twenty-five pounds.

12 boxes of fulminating caps.

Instruments: 1 sextant 1 binocular.

Instruments: 1 spyglass.

1 box of compasses.

1 pocket compass.

1 fahrenheit thermometer 1 aneroid barometer.

1 box containing a whole photographic apparatus, lens, plates, chemical products, etc.

Clothing: 2 dozen shirts of a particular fabric that resembled wool, but whose origin was evidently vegetable.

3 dozen stockings of the same fabric.

Utensils: 1 iron pot.

6 tinned copper saucepans.

3 iron dishes.

10 aluminum table-settings.

2 kettles.

1 small portable stove.

6 table knives.

Books: 1 bible containing the old and new testament.

1 atlas.

1 dictionary of the various Polynesian idioms.

1 dictionary of natural sciences, in six volumes.

3 quires of white paper.

2 blank-paged registers.

“It must be admitted,” said the reporter, after the inventory was completed, “that the owner of this chest was a practical man! Tools, weapons, instruments, clothes, utensils, books, nothing is lacking! One would really say that he expected to be shipwrecked and had prepared for it in advance!”

“Nothing is lacking, indeed,” murmured Cyrus Smith with a thoughtful air.

“And surely,” added Harbert, “the vessel that carried this chest and its owner was not a Malay pirate!”

“Unless,” said Pencroff, “this owner had been made prisoner by pirates…”

“That is not admissible,” replied the reporter. “It is more probable that an American or European vessel was drawn into these waters, and that passengers, wishing to save at least the necessaries, thus prepared this chest and threw it into the sea.”

“Is that your opinion, Mr. Cyrus?” asked Harbert.

“Yes, my child,” replied the engineer, “that may have happened thus. It is possible that, at the moment of, or in anticipation of, a shipwreck, various objects of primary utility were gathered into this chest, to be found at some point of the coast…”

“Even the photographic box!” observed the sailor with a rather incredulous air.

“As for that apparatus,” replied Cyrus Smith, “I do not well understand its utility, and it would have been better for us, as for all other castaways, to have a more complete assortment of clothing or more abundant ammunition!”

“But is there on these instruments, on these tools, on these books, no mark, no address, that could make us recognize their origin?” asked Gédéon Spilett.

That remained to be seen. Each object was therefore attentively examined, principally the books, instruments, and weapons. Neither the weapons nor the instruments, contrary to what is usually done, bore the maker’s mark; they were, moreover, in perfect condition and did not seem to have been used. Same particularity for the tools and utensils; all was new, which proved, in sum, that these objects had not been taken at random to be thrown into this chest, but, on the contrary, that the choice of these objects had been meditated and their classification made with care. It was also what indicated this second metal envelope which had preserved them from all humidity and which could not have been soldered in a moment of haste.

As for the dictionaries of natural sciences and of Polynesian idioms, both were English, but they bore no publisher’s name, nor any date of publication. Same for the bible, printed in the English language, a remarkable quarto from a typographical point of view, and which appeared to have been often leafed through.

As for the atlas, it was a magnificent work, comprising the maps of the whole world and several planispheres drawn according to the Mercator projection, and whose nomenclature was in French—but which likewise bore neither date of publication nor publisher’s name.

There was therefore, on these various objects, no indication that could point out their origin, and nothing, consequently, of a nature to make one suspect the nationality of the vessel which must recently have passed over these waters. But whencesoever this chest came, it made rich the colonists of Lincoln Island.

Hitherto, in transforming the products of nature, they had created everything themselves, and thanks to their intelligence, they had extricated themselves.

But did it not seem that providence had wished to reward them, by sending them then these various products of human industry? Their thanks therefore rose unanimously toward heaven.

However, one of them was not absolutely satisfied.

It was Pencroff. It appears that the chest did not contain a thing to which he seemed enormously attached, and, as the objects were taken out, his hurrahs diminished in intensity, and, the inventory finished, he was heard to murmur these words:

“All that is fine and good, but you will see that there will be nothing for me in this box!”

Which led Nab to say to him:

“Come now! Friend Pencroff, what were you expecting then?”

“Half a pound of tobacco!” answered Pencroff seriously, “and nothing would have been lacking to my happiness!”

One could not refrain from laughing at the sailor’s remark.

But it resulted from this discovery of the wreck that, now and more than ever, it was necessary to make a serious exploration of the island. It was therefore agreed that the next day, at break of day, they would set out, ascending the Mercy, so as to reach the western coast.

If some castaways had landed at a point on that coast, it was to be feared that they would be without resources, and it was necessary to bring them aid without delay.

During that day, the various objects were transported to Granite-House and methodically arranged in the great hall.

That day—October 29—was precisely a Sunday, and, before going to bed, Harbert asked the engineer if he would not read them some passage from the gospel.

“Willingly,” replied Cyrus Smith.

He took the holy book, and was about to open it, when Pencroff, stopping him, said to him:

“Mr. Cyrus, I am superstitious. Open at random, and read us the first verse that falls under your eyes. We shall see if it applies to our situation.”

Cyrus Smith smiled at the sailor’s notion, and, yielding to his desire, he opened the gospel precisely at a place where a bookmark separated the pages.

Suddenly, his gaze was arrested by a red cross, made in pencil, which was placed before verse 8 of chapter VII of the gospel of Saint Matthew.

And he read this verse, thus worded: Whosoever asketh receiveth, and he that seeketh findeth.

CHAPTER III

The next day—October 30—all was ready for the projected exploration, which the latest events rendered so urgent. Indeed, things had so turned out that the colonists of Lincoln Island might imagine themselves no longer to be asking for help, but rather to be able to bring it.

It was therefore agreed that they would ascend the Mercy, as far as the current of the river should be navigable. A great part of the road would thus be made without fatigue, and the explorers could carry their provisions and weapons to an advanced point in the west of the island.

It had been necessary, indeed, to think not only of the objects one carried, but also of those that chance might perhaps allow to be brought back to Granite-House. If there had been a shipwreck on the coast, as everything led to presume, wrecks would not be lacking and would be a good prize. In this expectation, the cart would doubtless have been more suitable than the fragile pirogue; but this cart, heavy and crude, had to be dragged, which made its use less easy, and which led Pencroff to express the regret that the chest had not contained, at the same time as “his half pound of tobacco,” a pair of those vigorous New-Jersey horses, which would have been very useful to the colony!

The provisions, already embarked by Nab, consisted of canned meat and a few gallons of beer and fermented liquor, that is to say, enough to sustain for three days—the longest lapse of time that Cyrus Smith assigned to the exploration. Besides, they counted, if need be, on resupplying on the way, and Nab took care not to forget the small portable stove. As for tools, the colonists took the two lumberjacks’ axes, which were to serve to clear a path in the thick forest, and, as for instruments, the spyglass and the pocket compass.

For weapons, they chose the two flintlock rifles, more useful in this island than would have been system rifles, the former using only flints, easy to replace, and the latter requiring fulminating caps, which frequent use would quickly exhaust. However, they also took one of the carbines and a few cartridges. As for the powder, of which the barrels contained about fifty pounds, it was necessary to carry a certain supply, but the engineer counted on manufacturing an explosive substance that would allow them to economize it. To the firearms they joined the five cutlasses well sheathed in leather, and, in these conditions, the colonists could venture into this vast forest with some chance of extricating themselves.

Needless to add that Pencroff, Harbert, and Nab, thus armed, were at the height of their wishes, though Cyrus Smith had made them promise not to fire a shot without necessity.

At six o’clock in the morning, the pirogue was pushed to the sea. All embarked, Top included, and directed themselves toward the mouth of the Mercy.

The tide had been rising only half an hour. There were therefore still a few hours of flood to take advantage of, for, later, the ebb would render the ascent of the river difficult. The flood was already strong, for the moon was to be full three days later, and the pirogue, which it sufficed to keep in the current, moved rapidly between the two high banks, without need to increase its speed with the help of the oars. In a few minutes, the explorers had arrived at the bend formed by the Mercy, and precisely at the angle where, seven months before, Pencroff had formed his first raft.

After this rather acute angle, the river, rounding, obliqued toward the southwest, and its course developed under the shade of great conifers of permanent verdure.

The aspect of the banks of the Mercy was magnificent.

Cyrus Smith and his companions could but admire without reserve these fine effects that nature so easily obtains with water and trees.

As they advanced, the forest species modified. On the right bank of the river were ranged magnificent specimens of the ulmaceae, those precious true elms, so sought by builders, and which have the property of preserving long in water. Then, there were numerous groups belonging to the same family, among others nettle-trees, whose kernel produces a very useful oil. Further on, Harbert noticed some lardizabalaceae, whose flexible branches, macerated in water, furnish excellent cordage, and two or three trunks of ebenaceae, which presented a fine black color cut with capricious veins. From time to time, at certain places where landing was easy, the canoe stopped.

Then Gédéon Spilett, Harbert, Pencroff, rifle in hand and preceded by Top, beat the bank. Apart from the game, there might be met some useful plant that must not be disdained, and the young naturalist was served to his wish, for he discovered a sort of wild spinach of the chenopod family and numerous specimens of crucifers, belonging to the cabbage genus, which it would certainly be possible to “civilize” by transplantation; there were watercress, horseradish, turnips and finally small branching stems, slightly hairy, a meter high, which produced almost brown seeds.

“Do you know what that plant is?” asked Harbert of the sailor.

“Tobacco!” cried Pencroff, who, evidently, had never seen his favorite plant except in the bowl of his pipe.

“No! Pencroff!” answered Harbert, “it is not tobacco, it is mustard.”

“Have it mustard!” answered the sailor, “but if, by chance, a tobacco plant should present itself, my boy, please do not disdain it.”

“We shall find one someday!” said Gédéon Spilett.

“Truly!” cried Pencroff. “Well, that day, I really do not know what more our island could lack!”

These various plants, which had been carefully uprooted, were transported into the pirogue, which Cyrus Smith never left, always absorbed in his reflections.

The reporter, Harbert, and Pencroff landed thus several times, now on the right bank of the Mercy, now on its left. The latter was less abrupt, but the former more wooded. The engineer was able to recognize, by consulting his pocket compass, that the direction of the river since the first bend was sensibly southwest and northeast, and almost rectilinear over a length of about three miles. But it was supposable that this direction modified further on and that the Mercy rose toward the northwest, toward the foothills of Mount Franklin, which must feed it with their waters.

During one of these excursions, Gédéon Spilett managed to seize two pairs of live gallinaceous birds. They were fowls with long slender beaks, elongated necks, short of wing and with no appearance of tail. Harbert gave them, with reason, the name of “tinamous,” and it was resolved that they should be the first occupants of the future poultry-yard.

But hitherto the rifles had not spoken, and the first detonation that rang in this Far-West forest was provoked by the appearance of a fine bird which anatomically resembled a kingfisher.

“I recognize it!” cried Pencroff, and it may be said that his shot went off in spite of himself.

“What do you recognize?” asked the reporter.

“The bird that escaped us on our first excursion and to which we gave the name of this part of the forest.”

“A jacamar!” cried Harbert.

It was a jacamar, indeed, a fine bird whose rather harsh plumage is clad with a metallic luster. A few grains of lead had brought it to the ground, and Top brought it back to the canoe, at the same time as a dozen “touraco-loris,” sorts of climbers the size of a pigeon, all painted green, with part of the wings crimson and an upright crest edged with white. To the young boy fell the honor of this fine shot, and he showed himself rather proud of it. The lorises made better game than the jacamar, whose flesh is a little tough, but one would hardly have persuaded Pencroff that he had not killed the king of edible fowls.

It was ten o’clock in the morning, when the pirogue reached a second bend of the Mercy, about five miles from its mouth. They halted at this place to breakfast, and this halt, sheltered by great fine trees, was prolonged for half an hour.

The river still measured sixty to seventy feet wide, and its bed five to six feet deep. The engineer had observed that numerous tributaries swelled its course, but these were only simple rios, unnavigable. As for the forest, as well under the name of Jacamar Wood as under that of Far-West Forests, it extended as far as the eye could reach. Nowhere, neither under the high groves nor under the trees of the Mercy’s banks, did the presence of man reveal itself. The explorers could not find a suspicious trace, and it was evident that never had the lumberjack’s axe notched these trees, that never had the pioneer’s knife cut these lianas stretched from trunk to trunk, amid the thick brushwood and long grasses. If some castaways had landed on the island, they had not yet left its littoral, and it was not under this thick cover that one must seek the survivors of the presumed shipwreck.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”