Part 4

Pencroff searched his jacket for the box that never left him, for he was a hardened smoker. He did not find it. He rummaged through the pockets of his trousers, and, to his deep astonishment, he found not the box in question either.

"That is stupid, and worse than stupid!" said he, looking at Harbert. "The box must have fallen from my pocket, and I have lost it! But you, Harbert, have you nothing, neither a lighter, nor anything that could serve to make a fire?"

"No, Pencroff!"

The sailor went out, followed by the young boy, and scratched his forehead vigorously. On the sand, among the rocks, near the bank of the river, both searched with the greatest care, but uselessly. The box was of brass and would not have escaped their eyes.

"Pencroff," asked Harbert, "did you not throw that box out of the skiff?"

"I took good care not to," answered the sailor. "But when one has been shaken about as we just have, such a thin object may have disappeared. My pipe itself left me! Cursed box! Where can it be?"

"Well, the sea is going out," said Harbert, "let us run to the spot where we landed."

It was unlikely that this box would be found, since the waves must have rolled it among the pebbles at high tide, but it was well to take this circumstance into account. Harbert and Pencroff directed themselves rapidly toward the point where they had landed the day before, about two hundred paces from the Chimneys.

There, amid the pebbles, in the hollows of the rocks, the search was made minutely. No result. If the box had fallen in this place, it must have been carried off by the flood. As the sea withdrew, the sailor searched every crevice of the rocks, finding nothing. It was a serious loss under the circumstances, and, for the moment, irreparable.

Pencroff did not hide his very keen disappointment. His brow was deeply furrowed. He did not utter a single word. Harbert wished to console him by observing that, very probably, the matches would have been wetted by the seawater, and that it would have been impossible to use them.

"But no, my boy," answered the sailor. "They were in a brass box that closed well! And now, how are we to manage?"

"We shall certainly find a means of procuring fire," said Harbert. "Mr. Smith or Mr. Spilett will not be at a loss like us!"

"Yes," answered Pencroff, "but, in the meantime, we are without fire, and our companions will find but a sorry meal on their return!"

"But," said Harbert quickly, "it is not possible that they have neither tinder nor matches!"

"I doubt it," answered the sailor, shaking his head. "First, Nab and Mr. Smith do not smoke, and I greatly fear that Mr. Spilett has rather kept his notebook than his matchbox!"

Harbert made no reply. The loss of the box was evidently a regrettable fact. Nevertheless, the young boy counted well that fire would be procured in one way or another. Pencroff, more experienced, and though he was not a man to be embarrassed by little or much, did not judge thus. In any case, there was but one course to take: to wait for the return of Nab and the reporter. But it was necessary to give up the meal of hard-boiled eggs that he wished to prepare for them, and the regimen of raw flesh did not seem to him, neither for them nor for himself, an agreeable prospect.

Before returning to the Chimneys, the sailor and Harbert, in case fire should fail them definitively, made a new gathering of lithodomes, and they retook silently the path to their dwelling.

Pencroff, his eyes fixed on the ground, was still seeking his unfindable box. He even went up the left bank of the river from its mouth to the angle where the raft had been moored.

He came back on the upper plateau, traversed it in all directions, searched in the high grasses on the edge of the forest, — all in vain.

It was five o'clock in the evening when Harbert and he re-entered the Chimneys. Needless to say that the passages were searched to their darkest corners, and that it had to be given up decisively.

Toward six o'clock, at the moment when the sun disappeared behind the high lands of the west, Harbert, who was walking to and fro on the beach, signaled the return of Nab and Gédéon Spilett.

They returned alone!... The young boy felt an inexpressible tightening of the heart. The sailor had not been mistaken in his presentiments.

The engineer Cyrus Smith had not been able to be found!

The reporter, on arriving, sat on a rock, without saying a word. Exhausted with fatigue, dying of hunger, he had not the strength to pronounce a single word!

As for Nab, his reddened eyes proved how much he had wept, and new tears that he could not hold back said too clearly that he had lost all hope!

The reporter gave the account of the searches attempted to find Cyrus Smith. Nab and he had traversed the coast over a space of more than eight miles, and, consequently, well beyond the point where the next-to-last fall of the balloon had taken place, a fall which had been followed by the disappearance of the engineer and the dog Top. The shore was deserted. No trace, no imprint. Not a pebble freshly turned, not an indication on the sand, not a mark of a human foot on all that part of the coast. It was evident that no inhabitant frequented this portion of the coast. The sea was as deserted as the shore, and it was there, a few hundred feet from the coast, that the engineer had found his tomb.

At this moment, Nab rose, and in a voice which denoted how much the sentiments of hope resisted in him:

"No!" cried he, "no! He is not dead! No! that is not so! Him! come now! Me! any other, possible! but him! never. He is a man to return from anything!..."

Then, strength abandoning him:

"Ah! I can bear no more!" murmured he.

Harbert ran to him.

"Nab," said the young boy, "we shall find him again! God will give him back to us! But meanwhile, you are hungry! Eat, eat a little, I beg of you!"

And, saying this, he offered the poor negro some handfuls of shellfish, meager and insufficient nourishment!

Nab had not eaten for many hours, but he refused. Deprived of his master, Nab could not or would not live!

As for Gédéon Spilett, he devoured these mollusks; then, he lay down on the sand at the foot of a rock.

He was exhausted, but calm.

Then Harbert approached him, and, taking his hand:

"Sir," said he, "we have discovered a shelter where you will be better than here. Night is coming. Come rest! Tomorrow, we shall see..."

The reporter rose, and, guided by the young boy, directed himself toward the Chimneys. At this moment, Pencroff approached him, and, in the most natural tone, asked him if, by chance, he did not have a match on him.

The reporter stopped, searched his pockets, found nothing there, and said:

"I had some, but I must have thrown everything away..."

The sailor then called Nab, put the same question to him, and received the same answer.

"Curse it!" cried the sailor, who could not hold back this word.

The reporter heard him, and, going to Pencroff:

"Not a match?" said he.

"Not one, and consequently no fire!"

"Ah!" cried Nab, "if he were there, my master, he would well know how to make you some!"

The four castaways remained motionless and looked at one another, not without uneasiness. It was Harbert who first broke the silence, saying:

"Mr. Spilett, you are a smoker, you always have matches on you! Perhaps you have not searched well? Search again! A single match would suffice us!"

The reporter searched again his pockets of trousers, of waistcoat, of overcoat, and at last, to the great joy of Pencroff, no less than to his extreme surprise, he felt a small piece of wood caught in the lining of his waistcoat. His fingers had seized this small piece of wood through the cloth, but they could not draw it out. As this must be a match, and a single one, it was necessary not to fray the phosphorus.

"Will you let me do it?" said the young boy to him.

And very adroitly, without breaking it, he managed to withdraw this small piece of wood, this miserable and precious straw, which, for these poor people, had so great an importance! It was intact.

"A match!" cried Pencroff. "Ah! it is as if we had a whole cargo of them!"

He took the match, and, followed by his companions, regained the Chimneys.

This small piece of wood, which in inhabited countries is lavished with such indifference, and whose value is naught, must here be used with extreme precaution. The sailor assured himself that it was quite dry. Then, this done:

"We should have some paper," said he.

"Here is some," answered Gédéon Spilett, who, after some hesitation, tore a leaf from his notebook.

Pencroff took the piece of paper that the reporter held out to him, and squatted before the hearth. There, a few handfuls of grass, leaves, and dry moss were placed under the fagots and arranged so that the air could circulate easily and inflame the dead wood rapidly.

Then, Pencroff folded the piece of paper in the shape of a cone, as pipe-smokers do in high winds, then, he introduced it between the mosses.

Taking then a slightly rough pebble, he wiped it carefully, and, not without his heart beating, he rubbed the match gently, holding his breath.

The first rub produced no effect.

Pencroff had not pressed briskly enough, fearing to fray the phosphorus.

"No, I cannot," said he, "my hand trembles... The match would fail... I cannot... I will not!..."

And rising, he charged Harbert to replace him.

Certainly, the young boy had never been so impressed in his life. His heart beat strongly. Prometheus going to steal the fire of heaven could not have been more moved! He hesitated not, however, and rubbed the pebble rapidly. A slight crackling was heard and a faint bluish flame sprang forth producing an acrid smoke. Harbert turned the match gently, so as to feed the flame, then, he slipped it into the paper cone.

The paper caught fire in a few seconds, and the mosses burned immediately. A few moments later, the dry wood cracked, and a cheerful flame, activated by the vigorous breath of the sailor, developed amid the darkness.

"At last," cried Pencroff, rising, "I have never been so moved in my life!"

It is certain that this fire looked well on the hearth of flat stones. The smoke escaped easily by the narrow conduit, the chimney drew, and an agreeable heat soon spread.

As for this fire, care must be taken not to let it go out again, and always to keep some ember under the ashes. But that was only a matter of care and attention, since wood was not lacking, and the supply could always be renewed in good time.

Pencroff thought first of all to use the hearth, in preparing a supper more nourishing than a dish of lithodomes. Two dozen eggs were brought by Harbert. The reporter, leaning in a corner, watched these preparations without saying anything. A triple thought strained his mind. Does Cyrus yet live?

If he lives, where can he be? If he survived his fall, how to explain that he has not found the means to make his existence known? As for Nab, he roamed on the beach. He was no more than a body without a soul.

Pencroff, who knew fifty-two ways of dressing eggs, had not the choice at this moment. He had to content himself with introducing them into the hot ashes, and letting them harden over a small fire. In a few minutes, the cooking was done, and the sailor invited the reporter to take his part of the supper.

Such was the first meal of the castaways on this unknown coast. These hard-boiled eggs were excellent, and, as the egg contains all the elements indispensable to the nourishment of man, these poor people found themselves very well and felt recomforted.

Ah! if one of them had not been missing from this meal! If the five prisoners escaped from Richmond had all been there, under these heaped rocks, before this crackling and clear fire, on this dry sand, perhaps they would have had only thanksgivings to render to heaven! But the most ingenious, the most learned also, he who was their undisputed chief, Cyrus Smith, was missing, alas! and his body had not even been able to obtain a burial!

Thus passed this day of the 25th of March. Night had come. One heard without the wind whistle and the monotonous surf beat the coast. The pebbles, pushed and brought back by the waves, rolled with a deafening crash.

The reporter had retired to the bottom of an obscure passage, after having summarily noted the incidents of this day: the first appearance of this new land, the disappearance of the engineer, the exploration of the coast, the incident of the matches, etc.; and, fatigue aiding, he managed to find some rest in sleep.

Harbert, he, soon fell asleep. As for the sailor, keeping watch with one eye, he passed the night near the hearth, to which he spared not the fuel. A single one of the castaways did not rest in the Chimneys. It was the inconsolable, the desperate Nab, who, this whole night, and despite what his companions said to him to urge him to take rest, wandered on the beach calling his master!

CHAPTER VI

The inventory of the objects possessed by these castaways of the air, thrown on a coast which appeared to be uninhabited, will be quickly established.

They had nothing, save the clothes they wore at the moment of the catastrophe. It must however be mentioned a notebook and a watch that Gédéon Spilett had kept by oversight doubtless, but not a weapon, not a tool, not even a pocket-knife. The passengers of the skiff had thrown everything outside to lighten the balloon.

The imaginary heroes of Daniel Defoe or of Wyss, as well as the Selkirks and the Raynals, cast away at Juan-Fernandez or at the Auckland archipelago, were never in so absolute a destitution. Either they drew abundant resources from their stranded ship, whether in seeds, in cattle, in tools, in munitions, or some wreckage arrived at the coast which permitted them to provide for the first needs of life. They did not find themselves at once absolutely disarmed before nature. But here, not an instrument of any sort, not an utensil. From nothing, they must arrive at everything!

And if only Cyrus Smith had been with them, if the engineer had been able to put his practical science, his inventive mind, at the service of this situation, perhaps all hope had not been lost! Alas!

It must no longer be counted on seeing Cyrus Smith again.

The castaways must expect nothing but from themselves, and from that Providence which never abandons those whose faith is sincere.

But, before all, should they install themselves on this part of the coast, without seeking to know to what continent it belonged, if it was inhabited, or if this shore was only the bank of a deserted island?

It was an important question to resolve and in the briefest delay. From its solution would come the measures to be taken. However, following the advice of Pencroff, it appeared suitable to wait some days before undertaking an exploration. It was necessary, in effect, to prepare provisions and procure a more fortifying alimentation than that solely due to eggs or mollusks. The explorers, exposed to supporting long fatigues, without a shelter to rest their head, must, before all, renew their strength.

The Chimneys offered a sufficient retreat provisionally. The fire was lit, and it would be easy to keep embers. For the moment, shellfish and eggs were not lacking in the rocks and on the beach. One would find the means to kill some of those pigeons which flew by hundreds at the crest of the plateau, were it with sticks or with stones. Perhaps the trees of the neighboring forest would give edible fruits? Finally, fresh water was there. It was then agreed that, for some days, they would remain at the Chimneys, in order to prepare themselves there for an exploration, either on the littoral or in the interior of the country.

This project suited particularly Nab. Stubborn in his ideas as in his presentiments, he had no haste to abandon this portion of the coast, theater of the catastrophe. He did not believe, he would not believe in the loss of Cyrus Smith.

No, it did not seem possible to him that such a man had ended in this vulgar fashion, carried off by a sea-stroke, drowned in the waves, a few hundred paces from a shore! As long as the waves had not cast back the body of the engineer, as long as he, Nab, had not seen with his eyes, touched with his hands, the corpse of his master, he would not believe in his death!

And this idea took root more than ever in his obstinate heart. Illusion perhaps, yet a respectable illusion, which the sailor would not destroy! For him, there was no more hope, and the engineer had indeed really perished in the waves, but with Nab, there was no discussing.

It was like the dog who cannot leave the place where his master has fallen, and his grief was such that, probably, he would not survive him.

That morning, the 26th of March, at dawn, Nab had resumed on the coast the direction of the north, and he had returned there where the sea, doubtless, had closed over the unfortunate Smith.

The breakfast of this day was uniquely composed of pigeon eggs and lithodomes. Harbert had found salt deposited in the hollows of the rocks by evaporation, and this mineral substance came very opportunely.

This meal finished, Pencroff asked the reporter if the latter wished to accompany them in the forest, where Harbert and he were going to try to hunt! But, on full reflection, it was necessary that someone remain, in order to maintain the fire, and for the case, very improbable, where Nab might have needed help. The reporter remained then.

"To the hunt, Harbert," said the sailor. "We shall find munitions on our route, and we shall cut our rifle in the forest."

But, at the moment of departing, Harbert observed that, since tinder was lacking, it would perhaps be prudent to replace it with another substance.

"Which?" asked Pencroff.

"Burnt linen," answered the young boy. "That can, if need be, serve as tinder."

The sailor found the advice very sensible. Only, it had the disadvantage of necessitating the sacrifice of a piece of handkerchief. Nevertheless, the thing was worth the pain, and the large-checked handkerchief of Pencroff was soon reduced, for a part, to the state of half-burnt rag. This inflammable matter was deposited in the central chamber, at the bottom of a small cavity of the rock, sheltered from all wind and all humidity.

It was then nine o'clock in the morning. The weather threatened, and the breeze blew from the southeast. Harbert and Pencroff turned the angle of the Chimneys, not without having cast a glance at the smoke which twisted at a point of rock; then, they went up the left bank of the river.

Arrived at the forest, Pencroff broke from the first tree two solid branches which he transformed into cudgels, and whose point Harbert wore upon a rock. Ah! what would he not have given to have a knife! Then, the two hunters advanced in the high grasses, following the bank. From the elbow which turned its course toward the southwest, the river narrowed little by little, and its banks formed a very enclosed bed covered by the double arch of the trees. Pencroff, so as not to lose himself, resolved to follow the course of the water which would always bring him back to his point of departure. But the bank was not without presenting some obstacles, here trees whose flexible branches bent to the level of the current, there lianas or thorns that must be broken with blows of the stick. Often, Harbert slipped between the broken stumps with the nimbleness of a young cat, and disappeared in the thicket. But Pencroff recalled him at once by begging him not to go far.

However, the sailor observed with attention the disposition and the nature of the places. On this left bank, the soil was flat and rose insensibly toward the interior. Sometimes humid, it then took a marshy appearance.

One felt there a whole underlying network of liquid threads which, by some subterranean fissure, must pour toward the river. Sometimes also, a streamlet flowed through the thicket, which one crossed without difficulty. The opposite bank appeared more accidented, and the valley, of which the river occupied the thalweg, traced itself there more clearly. The hill, covered with trees disposed by stories, formed a curtain which masked the gaze. On this right bank, the march would have been difficult, for the declivities lowered there abruptly, and the trees, bent over the water, maintained themselves only by the power of their roots.

Needless to add that this forest, as well as the coast already traversed, was virgin of all human imprint. Pencroff remarked there only traces of quadrupeds, fresh passes of animals, whose species he could not recognize. Very certainly, — and this was also the opinion of Harbert, — some had been left by formidable wild beasts with whom there would be to reckon doubtless; but nowhere the mark of an axe on a tree-trunk, nor the remains of an extinguished fire, nor the imprint of a step; of which one must perhaps congratulate oneself, for on this land, in the full Pacific, the presence of man would have been perhaps more to be feared than desired.

Harbert and Pencroff, speaking scarcely, for the difficulties of the road were great, advanced only very slowly, and, after an hour of march, they had barely crossed a mile. Until then, the hunt had not been fruitful. However, some birds sang and fluttered under the foliage, and showed very wild, as if man had instinctively inspired them a just fear. Among other fowls, Harbert signaled, in a marshy part of the forest, a bird with sharp and elongated beak, which resembled anatomically a kingfisher. Nevertheless, it distinguished itself from the latter by its rather harsh plumage, clad with a metallic shine.

"This must be a 'jacamar'," said Harbert, trying to approach the animal within good range.

"It would be a good occasion to taste jacamar," answered the sailor, "if that bird were of a humor to let itself be roasted!"

At this moment, a stone, adroitly and vigorously launched by the young boy, came to strike the fowl at the base of the wing; but the blow was not sufficient, for the jacamar fled with all the speed of its legs and disappeared in an instant.

"Awkward that I am!" cried Harbert.

"Why no, my boy!" answered the sailor. "The blow was well aimed, and more than one would have missed the bird. Come! do not vex yourself! We shall catch it another day!"

The exploration continued. As the hunters advanced, the trees, more spaced, became magnificent, but none produced edible fruits. Pencroff sought vainly for some of those precious palms which lend themselves to so many uses of domestic life, and whose presence has been signaled up to the fortieth parallel in the northern hemisphere and up to the thirty-fifth only in the southern hemisphere.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”