Part 31

The sailor's observation was very just, and there was here an incomprehensible fact, for the document seemed to have been recently written, when the colonists found it in the bottle. Moreover, it gave the position of Tabor Island in latitude and longitude with precision, which implied in its author a fairly complete knowledge of hydrography, such as a simple sailor could not possess.

"There is something once again inexplicable here," said the engineer, "but let us not provoke our new companion to speak. When he wishes, my friends, we shall be ready to hear him!"

During the following days, the stranger did not utter a word and did not leave the enclosure of the plateau a single time. He worked the land, losing not an instant, taking no moment of rest, but always apart. At mealtimes, he did not come up to Granite-House, although the invitation had been made to him several times, and he contented himself with eating a few raw vegetables. Night having come, he did not return to the chamber that had been assigned to him, but remained there, under some clump of trees, or, when the weather was bad, he huddled in some crevice of the rocks. Thus, he still lived as in the time when he had no other shelter than the forests of Tabor Island, and all insistence to bring him to modify his life having been vain, the colonists waited patiently. But the moment was arriving at last when, imperiously and as if involuntarily urged by his conscience, terrible confessions were about to escape him.

On the 10th of November, toward eight o'clock in the evening, at the moment when darkness began to fall, the stranger presented himself inopportunely before the colonists, who were gathered under the veranda. His eyes shone strangely, and his whole person had resumed its fierce aspect of the bad days.

Cyrus Smith and his companions were as if thunderstruck on seeing that, under the empire of a terrible emotion, his teeth chattered like those of a feverish man.

What then was the matter with him? Was the sight of his fellow men insupportable to him? Had he enough of this existence in that honest milieu? Was the nostalgia for brutishness seizing him again? One had to believe it, on hearing him express himself thus in incoherent phrases:

"Why am I here?... by what right have you torn me from my islet?... can there be a link between you and me?... do you know who I am... what I have done... why I was there... alone? And who tells you that I was not abandoned there... that I was not condemned to die there?... do you know my past?... do you know whether I have not stolen, murdered... whether I am not a wretch... an accursed being... fit to live like a wild beast... far from all... tell me... do you know it?"

The colonists listened without interrupting the wretch, from whom these half-confessions escaped, as it were, in spite of himself. Cyrus Smith then wished to calm him by approaching him, but he drew back sharply.

"No! No!" he cried. "One word only... am I free?"

"You are free," replied the engineer.

"Farewell then!" he cried, and he fled like a madman.

Nab, Pencroff, Harbert ran at once toward the edge of the wood... but they returned alone.

"We must let him be!" said Cyrus Smith.

"He will never come back..." cried Pencroff.

"He will come back," replied the engineer.

And, from that time, many days passed; but Cyrus Smith—was it a sort of presentiment?—persisted in the unshakable idea that the unhappy man would return sooner or later.

"It is the last revolt of that rude nature," he said, "which remorse has touched and which a new isolation would terrify."

Meanwhile, works of all sorts were continued, both on the Grande-Vue plateau and at the corral, where Cyrus Smith intended to build a farm. It goes without saying that the seeds harvested by Harbert on Tabor Island had been carefully sown.

The plateau then formed a vast kitchen garden, well laid out, well kept, and which did not leave the arms of the colonists idle. There was always work to be done there. As the vegetable plants had multiplied, it had been necessary to enlarge the simple squares, which tended to become veritable fields and to replace the meadows. But forage abounded in the other portions of the island, and the onaggas need not fear being ever rationed. It was better, besides, to transform the Grande-Vue plateau into a kitchen garden, defended by its deep belt of creeks, and to move outside the prairies which had no need to be protected against the depredations of quadrumanes and quadrupeds. On the 15th of November, the third harvest was made. Here is a field which had increased in surface, since eighteen months that the first grain of wheat had been sown! The second crop of six hundred thousand grains produced this time four thousand bushels, that is to say more than five hundred million grains! The colony was rich in wheat, for it sufficed to sow a dozen bushels so that the harvest was assured each year and that all, men and beasts, could nourish themselves with it.

The harvest was therefore made, and the last fortnight of the month of November was devoted to the works of bread-making. Indeed, they had the grain, but not the flour, and the installation of a mill was necessary. Cyrus Smith could have utilized the second fall which poured into the Mercy to establish his motor, the first being already occupied in moving the pestles of the fulling mill; but, after discussion, it was decided that a simple windmill would be established on the heights of Grande-Vue. The construction of the one offered no more difficulty than the construction of the other, and one was sure, on the other hand, that the wind would not fail on that plateau, exposed to the breezes from the open sea.

"Not to mention," said Pencroff, "that this windmill will be gayer and will make a good effect in the landscape!"

They therefore set to work, choosing framing woods for the cage and the mechanism of the mill. Some large sandstones which were found in the north of the lake could easily be transformed into millstones, and as for the sails, the inexhaustible envelope of the balloon would furnish them the necessary canvas.

Cyrus Smith made the plans, and the site of the mill was chosen a little to the right of the poultry-yard, near the bank of the lake. The whole cage was to rest on a pivot held in large frames, so as to be able to turn with all the mechanism it contained according to the demands of the wind.

This work was accomplished rapidly. Nab and Pencroff had become very skillful carpenters and had only to follow the templates furnished by the engineer. Also a sort of cylindrical sentry-box, a veritable pepper-pot, crowned with a sharp roof, soon rose at the designated spot. The four frames which formed the sails had been solidly implanted in the stock, so as to make a certain angle with it, and they were fixed by means of iron tenons. As for the various parts of the interior mechanism, the box destined to contain the two millstones, the bedstone and the runner, the hopper, a sort of large square trough, wide at the top, narrow at the bottom, which was to allow the grains to fall on the millstones, the oscillating spout destined to regulate the passage of the grain, and to which its perpetual tick-tock had given the name of "tattler," and finally the bolter, which, by the operation of sifting, separates the bran from the flour, that was fabricated without difficulty. The tools were good, and the work was little difficult, for, in sum, the organs of a mill are very simple. It was only a question of time.

Everybody had worked at the construction of the mill, and on the 1st of December it was finished.

As always, Pencroff was enchanted with his work, and he did not doubt that the apparatus was perfect.

"Now, a good wind," said he, "and we are going to finely grind our first crop!"

"A good wind, be it so," replied the engineer, "but not too much wind, Pencroff."

"Bah! Our mill will only turn the faster!"

"It is not necessary that it turn so fast," replied Cyrus Smith. "It is known by experience that the greatest quantity of work is produced by a mill when the number of turns traversed by the sails in one minute is sextuple the number of feet traversed by the wind in one second. With a moderate breeze, which gives twenty-four feet to the second, it will imprint sixteen turns to the sails during a minute, and no more are needed."

"Just so!" cried Harbert, "there blows a pretty northeast breeze which will do our business well!"

There was no reason to delay the inauguration of the mill, for the colonists were in haste to taste the first piece of bread of Lincoln Island. That day therefore, in the morning, two or three bushels of wheat were ground, and the next day, at breakfast, a magnificent loaf, a little compact perhaps, though leavened with beer yeast, figured on the table of Granite-House. Everyone bit into it with hearty teeth, and with what pleasure, one understands the rest!

Meanwhile the stranger had not reappeared. Several times, Gideon Spilett and Harbert had traversed the forest in the environs of Granite-House, without meeting him, without finding any trace of him. They were seriously concerned at this prolonged disappearance. Certainly, the former savage of Tabor Island could not be embarrassed to live in those game-filled forests of the Far-West, but was it not to be feared that he would resume his habits, and that this independence would revive his fierce instincts?

However, Cyrus Smith, by a sort of presentiment, no doubt, persisted always in saying that the fugitive would return.

"Yes, he will return!" he repeated with a confidence that his companions could not share. "When this unfortunate was at Tabor Island, he knew himself alone! Here, he knows that his fellow men await him! Since he has half-spoken of his past life, this poor penitent, he will return to tell it entire, and that day he will be ours!"

The event was about to give reason to Cyrus Smith.

On the 3rd of December, Harbert had left the Grande-Vue plateau and had gone to fish on the southern shore of the lake. He was without arms, and hitherto there had never been any precaution to take, since the dangerous animals did not show themselves in this part of the island.

During this time, Pencroff and Nab worked at the poultry-yard, while Cyrus Smith and the reporter were occupied at the chimneys in making soda, the supply of soap being exhausted.

Suddenly, cries resound:

"Help! To me!"

Cyrus Smith and the reporter, too far off, had not been able to hear these cries. Pencroff and Nab, abandoning the poultry-yard in all haste, had precipitated themselves toward the lake.

But before them, the stranger, whose presence in that place no one could have suspected, crossed the glycerine creek, which separated the plateau from the forest, and bounded to the opposite shore.

There, Harbert was facing a formidable jaguar, similar to the one which had been killed at the reptile promontory. Inopportunely surprised, he held himself standing against a tree, while the animal, gathered upon itself, was about to spring... but the stranger, with no other arms than a knife, precipitated himself on the redoubtable beast, which turned against this new adversary.

The struggle was short. The stranger was of a prodigious strength and address. He had seized the jaguar by the throat with a hand powerful as a shears, without concerning himself whether the claws of the beast penetrated his flesh, and, with the other, he dug into its heart with his knife.

The jaguar fell. The stranger pushed it with his foot, and he was about to flee at the moment when the colonists arrived on the scene of the struggle, when Harbert, attaching himself to him, cried:

"No! No! You shall not go!"

Cyrus Smith went toward the stranger, whose brows furrowed, when he saw him approach. The blood flowed from his shoulder under his torn vest, but he took no heed of it.

"My friend," said Cyrus Smith to him, "we have just contracted a debt of gratitude toward you. To save our child, you have risked your life!"

"My life!" murmured the stranger. "What is it worth? Less than nothing!"

"You are wounded?"

"No matter."

"Will you give me your hand?"

And as Harbert sought to grasp this hand, which had just saved him, the stranger crossed his arms, his chest swelled, his gaze clouded, and he seemed to wish to flee; but, making a violent effort upon himself, and in a brusque tone:

"Who are you?" said he, "and what do you pretend to be to me?"

It was the history of the colonists that he thus demanded, and for the first time. Perhaps, this history told, would he tell his own? In a few words, Cyrus Smith related all that had passed since their departure from Richmond, how they had extricated themselves, and what resources were now at their disposal.

The stranger listened with an extreme attention.

Then, the engineer told who they all were, Gideon Spilett, Harbert, Pencroff, Nab, himself, and he added that the greatest joy they had felt since their arrival on Lincoln Island, was on their return from the islet, when they had been able to count one companion more.

At these words, the latter reddened, his head lowered upon his chest, and a sentiment of confusion painted itself on his whole person.

"And now that you know us," added Cyrus Smith, "will you give us your hand?"

"No," replied the stranger in a muffled voice, "no! You are honest people, you! And I!..."

CHAPTER XVII

These last words justified the presentiments of the colonists. There was in the life of this unhappy man some fatal past, expiated perhaps in the eyes of men, but of which his conscience had not yet absolved him. In any case, the guilty man had remorse, he repented, and, this hand they asked of him, his new friends would have cordially pressed it, but he did not feel himself worthy to offer it to honest people! However, after the scene of the jaguar, he did not return to the forest, and since that day he no longer left the enclosure of Granite-House. What was the mystery of this existence? Would the stranger speak one day? That is what the future would teach. In any case, it was well agreed that his secret would never be asked of him and that one would live with him as if one had suspected nothing.

During some days, the common life therefore continued to be what it had been. Cyrus Smith and Gideon Spilett worked together, now chemists, now physicists. The reporter did not leave the engineer except to hunt with Harbert, for it would not have been prudent to let the young boy run alone in the forest, and it was necessary to be on one's guard.

As for Nab and Pencroff, one day at the stables or at the poultry-yard, another at the corral, not to mention the works at Granite-House, they did not lack work.

The stranger worked apart, and he had resumed his habitual existence, not attending the meals, sleeping under the trees of the plateau, never mingling with his companions. It seemed truly that the society of those who had saved him was insupportable to him!

"But then," Pencroff observed, "why did he claim the help of his fellow men? Why did he throw that document into the sea?"

"He will tell us," Cyrus Smith invariably answered.

"When?"

"Perhaps sooner than you think, Pencroff."

And, indeed, the day of the confessions was near.

On the 10th of December, a week after his return to Granite-House, Cyrus Smith saw come to him the stranger, who, in a calm voice and a humble tone, said to him:

"Sir, I would have a request to make of you."

"Speak," replied the engineer; "but beforehand, let me put a question to you."

At these words, the stranger reddened and was on the point of withdrawing. Cyrus Smith understood what passed in the soul of the guilty man, who feared no doubt that the engineer would interrogate him on his past!

Cyrus Smith retained him by the hand:

"Comrade," said he to him, "not only are we for you companions, but we are friends. I wished to tell you that, and now I listen to you."

The stranger passed his hand over his eyes. He was taken with a sort of trembling, and remained some instants without being able to articulate a word.

"Sir," said he at last, "I come to beg you to grant me a favor."

"Which?"

"You have some four or five miles from here, at the foot of the mountain, a corral for your domestic animals. These animals need to be cared for. Will you permit me to live there with them?"

Cyrus Smith looked for some instants at the unfortunate with a sentiment of profound commiseration. Then:

"My friend," said he, "the corral has only stables, hardly suitable for the animals..."

"That will be good enough for me, sir."

"My friend," resumed Cyrus Smith, "we will never thwart you in anything. It pleases you to live at the corral. So be it. You will be, besides, always welcome at Granite-House. But since you wish to live at the corral, we will take the necessary dispositions so that you may be conveniently installed there."

"However it may be, I shall always be well there."

"My friend," replied Cyrus Smith, who insisted deliberately on this cordial appellation, "you will leave us to judge what we must do in that regard!"

"Thank you, sir," replied the stranger, withdrawing.

The engineer immediately made known to his companions the proposition that had been made to him, and it was decided that one would construct at the corral a wooden house which would be rendered as comfortable as possible.

The same day, the colonists went to the corral with the necessary tools, and the week had not elapsed when the house was ready to receive its host. It had been raised some twenty feet from the stables, and, from there, it would be easy to survey the flock of moufflons, which then counted more than eighty head. Some furniture, bedstead, table, bench, wardrobe, chest, were fabricated, and arms, ammunition, tools were transported to the corral.

The stranger, besides, had not gone to see his new dwelling, and he had left the colonists to work there without him, while he occupied himself on the plateau, wishing no doubt to put the last hand to his task. And in fact, thanks to him, all the lands were plowed and ready to be sown, as soon as the moment should come.

It was on the 20th of December that the installations had been completed at the corral. The engineer announced to the stranger that his dwelling was ready to receive him, and the latter answered that he would go to sleep there that very evening.

That evening, the colonists were gathered in the great hall of Granite-House. It was then eight o'clock—the hour at which their companion was to leave them. Not wishing to embarrass him by imposing, by their presence, adieux which would perhaps have cost him, they had left him alone and they had come up to Granite-House.

Now, they were talking in the great hall, for some instants, when a light knock was struck at the door. Almost immediately, the stranger entered, and without other preamble:

"Gentlemen," said he, "before I leave you, it is well that you know my history. Here it is."

These simple words did not fail to impress very vividly Cyrus Smith and his companions.

The engineer had risen.

"We ask you nothing, my friend," said he. "It is your right to be silent..."

"It is my duty to speak."

"Sit down then."

"I shall remain standing."

"We are ready to hear you," replied Cyrus Smith.

The stranger held himself in a corner of the hall, a little protected by the half-light. He was bareheaded, his arms crossed on his chest, and it is in this posture that, in a muffled voice, speaking like someone who forces himself to speak, he made the following narrative, which his auditors did not interrupt a single time:

"On the 20th of December 1854, a steam pleasure yacht, the Duncan, belonging to the Scottish laird, Lord Glenarvan, dropped anchor at Cape Bernouilli, on the western coast of Australia, at the height of the thirty-seventh parallel. On board this yacht were Lord Glenarvan, his wife, a major of the English army, a French geographer, a young girl and a young boy. These last two were the children of Captain Grant, whose vessel the Britannia had perished hull and cargo, a year before. The Duncan was commanded by Captain John Mangles and manned by a crew of fifteen men.

"Here is why this yacht found itself at that epoch on the coasts of Australia.

"Six months before, a bottle containing a document written in English, in German and in French, had been found in the Irish Sea and picked up by the Duncan. This document bore in substance that there still existed three survivors of the wreck of the Britannia, that these survivors were Captain Grant and two of his men, and that they had found refuge on a land of which the document gave the latitude, but of which the longitude, effaced by the seawater, was no longer legible.

"This latitude was that of 37°11' south. Therefore, the longitude being unknown, if one followed this thirty-seventh parallel across the continents and the seas, one was certain to arrive on the land inhabited by Captain Grant and his two companions.

"The English admiralty having hesitated to undertake this research, Lord Glenarvan resolved to try all to find the captain. Mary and Robert Grant had been put in relation with him. The yacht the Duncan was equipped for a distant campaign to which the family of the lord and the children of the captain wished to take part, and the Duncan, quitting Glasgow, directed itself toward the Atlantic, doubled the Strait of Magellan and went up by the Pacific as far as Patagonia, where, following a first interpretation of the document, one could suppose that Captain Grant was prisoner of the natives.

"The Duncan landed its passengers on the western coast of Patagonia and set off again to take them up on the eastern coast, at Cape Corrientes.

"Lord Glenarvan crossed Patagonia, following the thirty-seventh parallel, and, having found no trace of the captain, he re-embarked on the 13th of November, in order to pursue his researches across the ocean.

"After having visited without success the islands Tristan d'Acunha and Amsterdam, situated on his route, the Duncan, as I have said, arrived at Cape Bernouilli, on the Australian coast, on the 20th of December 1854.

"The intention of Lord Glenarvan was to cross Australia as he had crossed America, and he landed. At some miles from the shore was established a farm, belonging to an Irishman, who offered hospitality to the travelers. Lord Glenarvan made known to this Irishman the reasons which had brought him into these parts, and he asked him if he had knowledge that a three-masted English vessel, the Britannia, had been lost since less than two years on the west coast of Australia.

"The Irishman had never heard speak of this wreck; but, to the great surprise of those present, one of the servants of the Irishman, intervening, said:

"'My lord, praise and thank God. If Captain Grant is still living, he is living on the Australian land.'

"'Who are you?' asked Lord Glenarvan.

"'A Scotchman like you, my lord,' replied this man, 'and I am one of the companions of Captain Grant, one of the shipwrecked of the Britannia.'

"This man was called Ayrton. He was, in effect, the boatswain of the Britannia, as attested his papers. But, separated from Captain Grant at the moment when the vessel broke on the reefs, he had believed until then that his captain had perished with all the crew, and that he, Ayrton, was sole survivor of the Britannia.

"'Only,' added he, 'it is not on the west coast, but on the east coast of Australia that the Britannia was lost, and if Captain Grant is still living, as his document indicates, he is prisoner of the Australian natives, and it is on the other coast that he must be sought.'"} # Chapter 31: Part 31 The sailor's observation was very just, and there was here an incomprehensible fact, for the document seemed to have been recently written, when the colonists found it in the bottle. Moreover, it gave the position of Tabor Island in latitude and longitude with precision, which implied in its author a fairly complete knowledge of hydrography, such as a simple sailor could not possess.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”