Part 35

Certainly, the colonists were not in the situation of those shipwrecked souls abandoned on a barren islet, disputing their wretched existence with a stepmother nature and incessantly devoured by the need to see inhabited lands again. Pencroff and Nab especially, who found themselves at once so happy and so rich, would not have left their island without regret. They were, moreover, accustomed to this new life, in the midst of that domain which their intelligence had, so to speak, civilized! But, after all, that ship was, in any case, news from the continent, perhaps a fragment of the homeland coming to meet them! It bore beings like themselves, and it will be understood that their hearts throbbed vividly at the sight of it! From time to time, Pencroff took up the spyglass and posted himself at the window. Thence he examined with extreme attention the vessel, which was at a distance of twenty miles to the east. The colonists therefore had as yet no means of signaling their presence. A flag would not have been perceived; a detonation would not have been heard; a fire would not have been visible.

Nevertheless, it was certain that the island, dominated by Mount Franklin, could not have escaped the lookouts of the ship. But why should this vessel put in there? Was it not a mere chance that drove it upon this part of the Pacific, where the charts mentioned no land, save Tabor Island, which itself lay outside the routes ordinarily followed by the long couriers of the Polynesian archipelagos, of New Zealand and of the American coast?

To this question that each one asked himself, a reply was suddenly furnished by Harbert.

"Would it not be the Duncan?" he cried.

The Duncan, it will not be forgotten, was Lord Glenarvan's yacht, which had left Ayrton on the islet and which was one day to return to fetch him. Now, the islet was not so far removed from Lincoln Island that a vessel, making for the one, could not come in sight of the other. Only a hundred and fifty miles separated them in longitude, and seventy-five in latitude.

"We must warn Ayrton," said Gideon Spilett, "and summon him immediately. He alone can tell us if that is the Duncan."

This was the opinion of all, and the reporter, going to the telegraphic apparatus which put the corral and Granite-House in communication, sent this telegram: "Come with all haste."

A few moments later, the bell sounded.

"I am coming," Ayrton answered.

Then the colonists continued to observe the vessel.

"If it is the Duncan," said Harbert, "Ayrton will recognize it easily enough, since he sailed on board her for a certain time."

"And if he recognizes it," added Pencroff, "it will give him a famous emotion!"

"Yes," replied Cyrus Smith, "but now Ayrton is worthy to go on board the Duncan again, and may Heaven grant that it is indeed Lord Glenarvan's yacht, for any other vessel would seem suspicious to me! These seas are ill-frequented, and I always fear for our island the visit of some Malay pirates."

"We would defend it!" cried Harbert.

"No doubt, my child," answered the engineer, smiling, "but better not to have to defend it."

"A simple observation," said Gideon Spilett. "Lincoln Island is unknown to navigators, since it is not even marked on the most recent charts. Do you not find, Cyrus, that this is a reason for a vessel, finding itself unexpectedly in sight of this new land, to seek to visit it rather than to flee from it?"

"Certainly," answered Pencroff.

"I think so too," added the engineer. "One may even affirm that it is the duty of a captain to signal, and consequently to come and reconnoiter, any land or island not yet catalogued, and Lincoln Island is in that case."

"Well then," said Pencroff at this point, "let us suppose the vessel puts in, that it anchors there, a few cables from our island, what shall we do?"

This question, abruptly put, at first remained without answer. But Cyrus Smith, after reflecting, replied in that calm tone which was habitual to him:

"What we shall do, my friends, what we ought to do, is this: we shall communicate with the vessel, we shall take passage on board her, and we shall leave our island, after taking possession of it in the name of the United States. Then we shall return with all those who may wish to follow us, to colonize it definitively and to endow the American republic with a useful station in this part of the Pacific Ocean!

"Hurrah!" cried Pencroff, "and that will be no small gift we shall be making our country! The colonization is already almost achieved, the names are given to all parts of the island, there is a natural harbor, a watering-place, roads, a telegraph line, a dockyard, a factory, and there will be nothing left but to inscribe Lincoln Island on the charts!"

"But if it is taken from us during our absence?" observed Gideon Spilett.

"A thousand devils!" cried the sailor, "I would rather stay there alone to guard it, and, on Pencroff's faith, it would not be stolen from me like a watch from a gaping fool's pocket!"

For an hour, it was impossible to say with certainty whether the vessel sighted was making for Lincoln Island or not. It had, however, drawn nearer, but under what sail was it moving? That Pencroff could not make out. Nevertheless, as the wind blew from the northeast, it was reasonable to suppose that this vessel was sailing with starboard tacks aboard. Besides, the breeze was fair for driving her upon the landfalls of the island, and, in this calm sea, she could not fear to approach it, although the soundings thereof were not noted on the chart.

Toward four o'clock—an hour after he had been summoned—Ayrton arrived at Granite-House. He entered the great hall, saying:

"At your orders, gentlemen."

Cyrus Smith offered him his hand, as was his custom, and, leading him near the window:

"Ayrton," he said to him, "we have asked you to come for a grave reason. A vessel is in sight of the island."

Ayrton, at first, paled slightly, and his eyes grew troubled for an instant. Then, leaning out of the window, he scanned the horizon, but he saw nothing.

"Take this spyglass," said Gideon Spilett, "and look well, Ayrton, for it is possible that this vessel might be the Duncan, come into these seas to repatriate you."

"The Duncan!" murmured Ayrton. "Already!"

This last word escaped involuntarily from Ayrton's lips, who let his head fall into his hands.

Did twelve years of abandonment on a desert islet not seem to him a sufficient expiation? Did the repentant culprit not yet feel himself forgiven, whether in his own eyes or in the eyes of others?

"No," he said, "no! It cannot be the Duncan."

"Look, Ayrton," said the engineer then, "for it matters that we know beforehand what to expect."

Ayrton took the spyglass and pointed it in the indicated direction. For some minutes, he observed the horizon without moving, without uttering a single word. Then:

"Indeed, it is a vessel," said he, "but I do not believe it is the Duncan."

"Why should it not be her?" asked Gideon Spilett.

"Because the Duncan is a steam yacht, and I perceive no trace of smoke, either above or near this vessel."

"Perhaps she is sailing under canvas only?" observed Pencroff. "The wind is fair for the course she seems to be following, and she must have an interest in sparing her coal, being so far from any land."

"It is possible you are right, Mr. Pencroff," answered Ayrton, "and that this vessel has extinguished her fires. Let us then allow her to make for the coast, and we shall soon know what to expect."

This said, Ayrton went to sit in a corner of the great hall and remained silent there. The colonists discussed further concerning the unknown vessel, but without Ayrton taking part in the discussion.

All then found themselves in a frame of mind that would not have permitted them to continue their labors. Gideon Spilett and Pencroff were singularly nervous, going, coming, unable to keep still. Harbert felt rather curiosity. Nab alone preserved his habitual calm.

Was not his country wherever his master was?

As for the engineer, he remained absorbed in his thoughts, and, at bottom, he rather dreaded than desired the arrival of this vessel.

However, the vessel had drawn somewhat nearer the island. With the aid of the spyglass, it had been possible to recognize that it was a long-courser, and not one of those Malay proas which the pirates of the Pacific usually employ. It was therefore permissible to believe that the engineer's apprehensions would not be justified, and that the presence of this vessel in the waters of Lincoln Island constituted no danger to her. Pencroff, after most minute attention, thought he could affirm that this vessel was rigged as a brig and was running obliquely toward the coast, starboard tacks aboard, under her lower sails, her top-sails and her top-gallant sails. Which was confirmed by Ayrton.

But, continuing under this posture, she must soon disappear behind the point of Cape Claw, for she was making southwest, and, to observe her, it would then be necessary to gain the heights of Washington Bay, near Balloon Harbor. An annoying circumstance, for it was already five o'clock in the evening, and twilight would soon render all observation very difficult.

"What shall we do, night having come?" asked Gideon Spilett. "Shall we light a fire in order to signal our presence on this coast?"

This was a grave question, and yet, notwithstanding some misgivings the engineer might have retained, it was resolved in the affirmative. During the night, the vessel might disappear, withdraw forever, and, that vessel gone, would another return to the waters of Lincoln Island? Now, who could foresee what the future held in store for the colonists?

"Yes," said the reporter, "we must make known to this vessel, whatever she may be, that the island is inhabited. To neglect the chance offered us would be to create future regrets!"

It was therefore decided that Nab and Pencroff should proceed to Balloon Harbor, and that there, once night had fallen, they would light a great fire whose glare would necessarily attract the attention of the brig's crew.

But, at the moment when Nab and the sailor were preparing to leave Granite-House, the vessel changed her course and bore frankly down upon the island, directing herself toward Union Bay. She was a good walker, that brig, for she approached rapidly.

Nab and Pencroff then suspended their departure, and the spyglass was put into Ayrton's hands, so that he might definitively recognize whether this vessel was or was not the Duncan. The Scottish yacht was, she too, rigged as a brig. The question was therefore to know if a funnel rose between the two masts of the observed vessel, which was then no more than ten miles distant.

The horizon was still very clear. The verification was easy, and Ayrton soon let his spyglass fall, saying:

"It is not the Duncan! it could not be her!..."

Pencroff again framed the brig in the field of the spyglass, and he recognized that this brig, of three to four hundred tons burden, marvelously streamlined, boldly masted, admirably cut for speed, must be a rapid runner of the seas. But to what nation did she belong? That was difficult to say.

"And yet," added the sailor, "a flag floats at her peak, but I cannot distinguish its colors."

"Within half an hour, we shall be certain on that score," answered the reporter. "Besides, it is well evident that the captain of this vessel intends to make land, and consequently, if not today, tomorrow at the latest, we shall make his acquaintance."

"No matter!" said Pencroff. "Better to know whom one has to deal with, and I should not be sorry to recognize his colors, that fellow there!"

And, while speaking thus, the sailor did not quit his spyglass.

Daylight began to fail, and, with the day, the offshore wind also dropped. The brig's flag, less taut, caught in the halyards, and it became more and more difficult to observe.

"That is no American flag," said Pencroff from time to time, "nor English, whose red would be easily seen, nor the French or German colors, nor the white flag of Russia, nor the yellow of Spain... it would seem to be of a uniform color... let us see... in these seas... what should we most commonly find?... the Chilean flag? But it is tricolor... Brazilian? It is green... Japanese? It is black and yellow... whereas this one..."

At this moment, a breeze stretched the unknown flag.

Ayrton, seizing the spyglass the sailor had let fall, applied it to his eye, and, in a hollow voice:

"The black flag!" he cried.

Indeed, a dark bunting unfolded at the brig's peak, and it was with good reason that one could now hold her for a suspect vessel!

Had the engineer then been right in his presentiments? Was it a pirate ship? Was she scouring these shallow seas of the Pacific, competing with the Malay proas that still infest them? What came she seeking on the landfalls of Lincoln Island? Did she see in her an unknown land, ignored, fit to become a receiver of stolen cargoes? Came she to ask these coasts for a refuge port for the winter months? Was the honest domain of the colonists destined to transform itself into an infamous retreat—a sort of capital of Pacific piracy?

All these ideas presented themselves instinctively to the minds of the colonists. There was, moreover, no doubting the significance that must be attached to the color of the hoisted flag. It was indeed that of the sea-robbers! It was that which the Duncan must have borne, if the convicts had succeeded in their criminal designs!

No time was lost in discussion.

"My friends," said Cyrus Smith, "perhaps this vessel only wishes to observe the coastline of the island? Perhaps her crew will not land? That is a chance. Be that as it may, we must do all to conceal our presence here. The mill, established on the Grand-View Plateau, is too easily recognizable. Let Ayrton and Nab go to take down its sails. Let us likewise conceal, under thicker branches, the windows of Granite-House. Let all fires be extinguished. Let nothing, in short, betray the presence of man on this island!"

"And our boat?" said Harbert.

"Oh!" answered Pencroff, "she is sheltered in Balloon Harbor, and I defy those rogues to find her there!"

The engineer's orders were immediately executed. Nab and Ayrton went up onto the plateau and took the necessary measures so that every index of habitation should be concealed. While they occupied themselves with this task, their companions went to the edge of the Jacamar Wood and brought back a great quantity of branches and vines, which, at a certain distance, were to figure a natural foliage and sufficiently veil the bays of the granite wall. At the same time, the ammunition and weapons were arranged so as to be usable at the first instant, in case of an unlooked-for aggression.

When all these precautions had been taken:

"My friends," said Cyrus Smith—and one felt by his voice that he was moved—"if these wretches wish to seize Lincoln Island, we shall defend it, shall we not?"

"Yes, Cyrus," replied the reporter, "and, if need be, we shall all die to defend it!"

The engineer offered his hand to his companions, who pressed it with emotion.

Alone, Ayrton, remaining in his corner, had not joined the colonists. Perhaps he, the former convict, still felt himself unworthy!

Cyrus Smith understood what was passing in Ayrton's soul, and, going to him:

"And you, Ayrton," he asked him, "what will you do?"

"My duty," answered Ayrton.

Then, he went to post himself near the window and plunged his gaze through the foliage.

It was half-past seven then. The sun had disappeared for about twenty minutes, behind Granite-House. Consequently, the eastern horizon was gradually darkening. However, the brig was still advancing toward Union Bay. She was not more than eight miles off then, and precisely abreast of the Grand-View Plateau, for, after tacking at the height of Cape Claw, she had largely gained to the north, being served by the rising tide current. One may even say that, at this distance, she was already entered into the vast bay, for a straight line drawn from Cape Claw to Cape Mandible left her to the west, on her starboard quarter.

Was the brig going to thrust into the bay? That was the first question. Once in the bay, would she anchor? That was the second.

Would she not content herself, after observing the coast, with standing out to sea again without landing her crew? That would be known within an hour. The colonists had therefore only to wait.

Cyrus Smith had not seen without a profound anxiety the suspect vessel hoist the black flag.

Was it not a direct threat against the work which his companions and he had brought to success hitherto? The pirates—one could not doubt that the brig's sailors were such—had they then already frequented this island, since, in making land, they had run up their colors?

Had they previously effected some descent there, which would explain certain particulars remaining inexplicable until then? Existed there, in its not yet explored portions, some accomplice ready to enter into communication with them?

To all these questions that he silently put to himself, Cyrus Smith knew not what to answer; but he felt that the situation of the colony could only be very gravely compromised by the arrival of this brig.

However, his companions and he were decided to resist to the last extremity. Were these pirates numerous and better armed than the colonists?

That was what it would have been very important to know!

But the means of reaching them!

Night was made. The new moon, carried away in the solar irradiation, had disappeared. A profound obscurity enveloped the island and the sea. The clouds, heavy, piled at the horizon, let filter no gleam. The wind had completely fallen with the twilight. Not a leaf stirred on the trees, not a wavelet murmured on the shore. Of the vessel nothing was seen, all her lights were shut, and, if she was still in sight of the island, one could not even know what place she occupied.

"Eh! Who knows?" said Pencroff then. "Perhaps that damned craft will have made sail during the night, and we shall not find her again at daybreak?"

As a reply made to the sailor's observation, a vivid flash burst seaward, and a cannon shot resounded.

The vessel was still there, and there were pieces of artillery on board.

Six seconds had elapsed between the flash and the shot.

Therefore, the brig was about a mile and a quarter from the coast.

And, at the same time, a noise of chains was heard running and grating through the hawse-holes.

The vessel had just anchored in sight of Granite-House!

CHAPTER II

There was no longer any doubt to be had as to the intentions of the pirates. They had cast anchor at a short distance from the island, and it was evident that, the next day, by means of their boats, they counted on reaching the shore!

Cyrus Smith and his companions were ready to act, but, however resolved they might be, they should not forget to be prudent. Perhaps their presence could still be concealed, in case the pirates contented themselves with landing on the coast without penetrating into the interior of the island. It might indeed happen that these had no other project than to take water at the Mercy watering-place, and it was not impossible that the bridge, thrown a mile and a half from the mouth, and the arrangements of the chimneys, escaped their notice.

But why that flag hoisted at the brig's peak?

Why that cannon shot? Pure bravado no doubt, unless it were the index of a taking possession! Cyrus Smith now knew that the vessel was formidably armed. Now, to answer the pirates' cannon, what had the colonists of Lincoln Island? Only some rifles.

"However," observed Cyrus Smith, "we are here in an inexpugnable situation. The enemy could not discover the orifice of the discharge-pipe, now that it is hidden under the reeds and grasses, and, consequently, it is impossible for him to penetrate into Granite-House."

"But our plantations, our poultry-yard, our corral, everything, in short, everything!" cried Pencroff, stamping his foot. "They can ravage all, destroy all in a few hours!"

"All, Pencroff," answered Cyrus Smith, "and we have no means of preventing them."

"Are they numerous? That is the question," said the reporter then. "If they are but a dozen, we shall know how to stop them, but forty, fifty, more perhaps!..."

"Mr. Smith," said Ayrton then, who advanced toward the engineer, "will you grant me a permission?"

"Which, my friend!"

"That of going to the vessel to recognize the strength of her crew."

"But, Ayrton..." replied the engineer, hesitating, "you will risk your life..."

"Why not, sir?"

"That is more than your duty, that."

"I have more than my duty to do," answered Ayrton.

"You would go with the pirogue to the vessel?" asked Gideon Spilett.

"No, sir, but I shall go swimming. The pirogue would not pass where a man can slip between two waters."

"Do you well know that the brig is a mile and a quarter from the coast?" said Harbert.

"I am a good swimmer, Mr. Harbert."

"It is to risk your life, I tell you," resumed the engineer.

"No matter," answered Ayrton. "Mr. Smith, I ask you this as a favor. This is perhaps a means of raising myself in my own eyes!"

"Go, Ayrton," answered the engineer, who felt well that a refusal would have deeply saddened the former convict, become an honest man again.

"I will accompany you," said Pencroff.

"You distrust me!" answered Ayrton quickly.

Then, more humbly:

"Alas!"

"No! No!" replied Cyrus Smith with animation, "no, Ayrton! Pencroff does not distrust you! You have ill interpreted his words."

"Indeed," answered the sailor, "I propose to Ayrton to accompany him only to the islet. It may happen, though that is little probable, that one of these knaves has landed, and two men will not be too many, in that case, to prevent him from giving the alarm. I shall wait for Ayrton on the islet, and he shall go alone to the vessel, since he has proposed to do so."

Things thus agreed, Ayrton made his preparations for departure. His project was audacious, but it could succeed, thanks to the obscurity of the night. Once arrived at the vessel, Ayrton, hooked on, whether to the lower chains or to the shroud cat-harpings, could recognize the number and perhaps surprise the intentions of the convicts.

Ayrton and Pencroff, followed by their companions, descended to the shore. Ayrton undressed and rubbed himself with grease, so as to suffer less from the temperature of the water, which was still cold.

It might indeed happen that he would be obliged to remain in it for several hours.

Pencroff and Nab, during this time, had gone to fetch the pirogue, moored some hundreds of paces higher, on the bank of the Mercy, and, when they returned, Ayrton was ready to depart. A blanket was thrown over Ayrton's shoulders, and the colonists came to press his hand.

Ayrton embarked in the pirogue with Pencroff.

It was half-past ten in the evening, when both disappeared in the darkness. Their companions returned to await them at the chimneys.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”