Part 45

The month of April was rather fine, as the month of October often is in the boreal zone. At the same time, the work of the land was actively pushed forward, and soon every trace of devastation had disappeared from the Grand-View Plateau. The mill was rebuilt, and new buildings rose on the site of the poultry-yard. It had seemed necessary to reconstruct them on a larger scale, for the feathered population was increasing in considerable proportion. The stables now contained five onaggas, four of them vigorous, well trained, allowing themselves to be harnessed or ridden, and a little one that had just been born. The colony's equipment had been increased by a plow, and the onaggas were employed in plowing, like true oxen of Yorkshire or Kentucky. Each of the colonists assigned himself his task, and hands were not idle. Thus, what fine health these workers enjoyed, and with what good cheer they enlivened the evenings at Granite House, forming a thousand plans for the future!

It goes without saying that Ayrton shared absolutely in the common existence, and there was no longer any question for him of going to live at the corral. However, he remained always sad, little communicative, and joined rather in his companions' labors than in their pleasures. But he was a sturdy workman at his task, vigorous, adroit, ingenious, intelligent. He was esteemed and loved by all, and he could not be ignorant of it.

However, the corral was not abandoned. Every two days, one of the colonists, driving the cart or riding one of the onaggas, went to tend the flock of musmons and goats and brought back the milk that supplied Nab's larder. These excursions were at the same time occasions for hunting. Thus Harbert and Gideon Spilett—Top in the lead—ran more often than any of their companions along the corral road, and, with the excellent weapons at their disposal, capybaras, agoutis, kangaroos, wild boars, feral pigs for the large game, ducks, grouse, heath-cocks, jacamars, snipes for the small, never failed the house. The products of the warren, those of the oyster-bed, a few turtles that were taken, a fresh catch of those excellent salmon that came again to thrust themselves into the waters of the Mercy, the vegetables of the Grand-View Plateau, the natural fruits of the forest, were riches upon riches, and Nab, the head cook, could scarcely suffice to store them away.

It goes without saying that the telegraph wire thrown between the corral and Granite House had been re-established, and that it functioned, when one or another of the colonists found himself at the corral and judged it necessary to spend the night there. Besides, the island was safe now, and no aggression was to be feared—at least on the part of men.

However, the event that had occurred might be repeated. A descent of pirates, and even of escaped convicts, was always to be feared. It was possible that companions, accomplices of Bob Harvey, still detained at Norfolk, had been in the secret of his projects and might be tempted to imitate him. The colonists did not fail, then, to observe the landings of the island, and each day their spyglass was swept over that wide horizon which closed Union Bay and Washington Bay.

When they went to the corral, they examined with no less attention the western part of the sea, and, ascending the spur, their gaze could range over a wide sector of the western horizon.

Nothing suspicious appeared, but still it was necessary always to be on one's guard. Thus the engineer, one evening, made known to his friends the project he had conceived of fortifying the corral. It seemed prudent to him to raise its palisaded enclosure and to flank it with a sort of blockhouse in which, should the case arise, the colonists could hold against an enemy troop. Granite House being to be considered as impregnable by its very position, the corral, with its buildings, its reserves, the animals it contained, would always be the objective of pirates, whoever they might be, who should land on the island, and, if the colonists were forced to shut themselves up there, they must be able to resist without disadvantage.

This was a project to be matured, and whose execution, moreover, was necessarily put off until the coming spring.

Toward the 15th of May, the keel of the new vessel lengthened on the stocks, and soon the stem and sternpost, mortised at each of its extremities, rose there almost perpendicularly. This keel, of good oak, measured one hundred and ten feet in length, which would allow giving the beam a width of twenty-five feet. But that was all the carpenters could do before the arrival of the cold and bad weather. During the following week, they also put in place the first after-frames; then, work had to be suspended.

During the last days of the month, the weather was extremely bad. The wind blew from the east, and sometimes with the violence of a hurricane. The engineer had some uneasiness for the sheds of the construction yard—which, besides, he could not have established anywhere else, near Granite House—for the islet covered only imperfectly the shore against the furies of the open sea, and, in great tempests, the waves came to beat directly at the foot of the granite wall.

But, very fortunately, these fears were not realized. The wind hauled rather to the southeast, and, in these conditions, the shore of Granite House found itself completely covered by the redan of the wreck point.

Pencroff and Ayrton, the two most zealous builders of the new vessel, pursued their work as long as they could. They were not men to be embarrassed by the wind that twisted their hair, nor by the rain that pierced them to the bones, and a blow of the hammer is as good in bad weather as in fine. But when a very keen cold succeeded this humid period, the wood, whose fibers acquired the hardness of iron, became extremely difficult to work, and, toward the 10th of June, it was necessary definitively to abandon the construction of the boat.

Cyrus Smith and his companions had not failed to observe how rude the temperature was during the winters of Lincoln Island. The cold was comparable to that felt by the states of New England, situated at about the same distance from the equator as it. If, in the boreal hemisphere, or at least in the part occupied by New Britain and the north of the United States, this phenomenon is explained by the flat conformation of the territories bordering on the pole, and over which no swelling of the soil opposes obstacles to the hyperborean blasts, here, as concerned Lincoln Island, this explanation could not hold.

"It has even been observed," said Cyrus Smith one day to his companions, "that, at equal latitudes, islands and coastal regions are less afflicted by cold than Mediterranean countries. I have often heard it affirmed that the winters of Lombardy, for example, are more rigorous than those of Scotland, and that would be because the sea restores during winter the heats it received during summer. Islands are thus in the best conditions to benefit from this restitution."

"But then, Mr. Cyrus," asked Harbert, "why does Lincoln Island seem to escape the common law?"

"That is difficult to explain," answered the engineer. "However, I should be disposed to admit that this singularity is due to the situation of the island in the austral hemisphere, which, as you know, my child, is colder than the boreal hemisphere."

"Indeed," said Harbert, "and drifting ice is met with under lower latitudes in the south than in the north of the Pacific."

"That is true," answered Pencroff, "and, when I followed the whaling trade, I have seen icebergs even abreast of Cape Horn."

"One might perhaps then explain," said Gideon Spilett, "the rigorous colds that strike Lincoln Island, by the presence of ice or pack-ice at a relatively very near distance."

"Your opinion is very admissible, indeed, my dear Spilett," answered Cyrus Smith, "and it is evidently to the proximity of the pack-ice that we owe our rigorous winters. I will also have you remark that a wholly physical cause makes the austral hemisphere colder than the boreal hemisphere. Indeed, since the sun is nearer this hemisphere during summer, it is necessarily farther from it during winter. This explains, then, that there is excess of temperature in both senses, and, if we find the winters very cold at Lincoln Island, let us not forget that the summers there are very hot, on the contrary."

"But why then, if you please, Mr. Smith," asked Pencroff, knitting his brow, "why then is our hemisphere, as you say, so badly off? That is not just, that!"

"Friend Pencroff," answered the engineer, laughing, "just or not, the situation must be borne, and here is whence comes this particularity. The earth does not describe a circle around the sun, but an ellipse, as the laws of rational mechanics require. The earth occupies one of the foci of the ellipse, and, consequently, at a certain epoch of its course, it is at its apogee, that is to say at its greatest distance from the sun, and at another epoch, at its perigee, that is to say at its shortest distance. Now, it happens that it is precisely during the winter of the austral regions that it is at its point farthest from the sun, and, consequently, in the conditions required for these regions to experience greater colds. For that, nothing to be done, and men, Pencroff, however learned they may be, will never be able to change anything in the cosmographic order established by God Himself."

"And yet," added Pencroff, who showed a certain difficulty in resigning himself, "the world is very learned! What a big book, Mr. Cyrus, one would make with all that is known!"

"And what a bigger book still with all that is not known," answered Cyrus Smith.

Finally, for one reason or another, the month of June brought back the colds with their accustomed violence, and the colonists were most often confined to Granite House.

Ah! This seclusion seemed hard to them all, and perhaps more particularly to Gideon Spilett.

"Do you see," he said one day to Nab, "I would give you by notarized deed all the inheritances that are to come to me some day, if you were good enough to go, anywhere, to take out a subscription to some newspaper for me! Decidedly, what is most lacking to my happiness is to know every morning what happened the day before, elsewhere than here!"

Nab had begun to laugh.

"Upon my word," he had answered, "what occupies me, myself, is the daily work!"

The truth is that, within as without, work was not lacking.

The colony of Lincoln Island then found itself at its highest point of prosperity, and three years of sustained labor had made it such. The incident of the destroyed brig had been a new source of riches. Not to speak of the complete rigging, which would serve the vessel on the stocks, utensils and tools of all sorts, arms and ammunition, clothing and instruments, now encumbered the stores of Granite House. It had not even been necessary to have recourse to the making of heavy felt cloths. If the colonists had suffered from the cold during their first wintering, now, the bad season might come without their having to dread its rigors. Linen was abundant also, and it was maintained, besides, with extreme care. From this sodium chloride, which is none other than sea salt, Cyrus Smith had easily extracted soda and chlorine. The soda, which was easily transformed into sodium carbonate, and the chlorine, of which he made chloride of lime and others, were employed for divers domestic uses and precisely for the bleaching of linen. Besides, they made only four washings a year, as was practiced formerly in the families of olden time, and it be permitted to add that Pencroff and Gideon Spilett, while waiting for the postman to bring him his newspaper, showed themselves distinguished washermen.

Thus passed the winter months, June, July and August. They were very rigorous, and the average of the thermometer observations gave no more than eight degrees Fahrenheit (13.33 degrees centigrade below zero). It was then inferior to the temperature of the preceding wintering. Thus, what good fire flamed incessantly in the chimneys of Granite House, whose smoke stained long black streaks on the granite wall! Fuel was not spared, which grew quite naturally a few steps away. In addition, the surplus of the woods destined for the construction of the vessel permitted economizing the coal, which required a more painful transport.

Men and animals all bore themselves well. Master Jup showed himself a little chilly, it must be admitted.

That was perhaps his only fault, and he had to be made a good dressing-gown, well wadded. But what a servant, adroit, zealous, indefatigable, not indiscreet, not talkative, and one might with reason propose him as a model to all his biped colleagues of the old and new world!

"After that," said Pencroff, "when one has four hands at one's service, it is the least that one should do one's work properly!"

And, in fact, the intelligent quadrumane did it well!

During the seven months that elapsed since the last researches operated around the mountain and during the month of September, which brought back the fine days, there was no question whatever of the genius of the island. Its action manifested itself in no circumstance. It is true that it would have been useless, for no incident occurred that could put the colonists to any painful trial.

Cyrus Smith observed even that if, by chance, communications between the unknown and the guests of Granite House had ever been established through the granite mass, and if Top's instinct had as it were presaged them, there was nothing of the sort during this period. The dog's growlings had completely ceased, as well as the orang's uneasiness. The two friends—for they were friends—no longer prowled at the orifice of the inner well, they no longer barked nor moaned in that singular fashion which had, from the first, put the engineer on the alert. But could the latter assure that all was said on this enigma, and that he would never have the word of it? Could he affirm that some conjunction would not reproduce itself, which would bring back on the scene the mysterious personage? Who knows what the future reserved? Finally, the winter ended; but a fact whose consequences might be grave, on the whole, occurred precisely in the first days that marked the return of spring.

On the 7th of September, Cyrus Smith, having observed the summit of Mount Franklin, saw a smoke which wound above the crater, whose first vapors projected themselves into the air.

CHAPTER XV

The colonists, warned by the engineer, had suspended their work and were considering in silence the summit of Mount Franklin.

The volcano had then awakened, and the vapors had pierced the mineral layer heaped at the bottom of the crater. But would the subterranean fires provoke some violent eruption? That was an eventuality that could not be prevented.

However, even admitting the hypothesis of an eruption, it was probable that Lincoln Island would not suffer in its entirety. The outflows of volcanic matter are not always disastrous. Already the island had been subjected to that trial, as attested the lava streams that striped the northern slopes of the mountain. In addition, the form of the crater, the notch hollowed at its upper rim, should project the vomited matters to the opposite of the fertile portions of the island.

Nevertheless, the past did not necessarily bind the future. Often, at the summits of volcanoes, old craters close and new ones open. The fact has occurred in both worlds, at Etna, at Popocatepetl, at Orizaba, and, on the eve of an eruption, all is to be feared. It sufficed, on the whole, a trembling of the earth—a phenomenon which sometimes accompanies volcanic outflows—for the interior disposition of the mountain to be modified and for new ways to be opened to the incandescent lavas.

Cyrus Smith explained these things to his companions, and, without exaggerating the situation, he made them know its pros and cons.

After all, there was nothing to be done about it. Granite House, unless a trembling of the earth should shake the soil, did not seem to be threatened. But the corral would have all to fear, if some new crater should open in the southern walls of Mount Franklin. From that day, the vapors did not cease to plume the summit of the mountain, and one could even recognize that they gained in height and thickness, without any flame mingling with their thick volutes. The phenomenon was still concentrated in the lower part of the central chimney.

However, with the fine days, the works had been resumed. The construction of the vessel was pressed as much as possible, and, by means of the fall of the beach, Cyrus Smith managed to establish a hydraulic sawmill which more rapidly cut the tree-trunks into planks and beams. The mechanism of this apparatus was as simple as those which function in the rustic sawmills of Norway. A first horizontal movement to impress on the piece of wood, a second vertical movement to give to the saw, that was all that was to be obtained, and the engineer succeeded by means of a wheel, two cylinders and pulleys, conveniently arranged.

Toward the end of the month of September, the hull of the vessel, which was to be rigged as a schooner, rose on the construction yard. The framing was almost entirely finished, and all these frames having been maintained by a temporary cradle, one could already appreciate the forms of the craft.

This schooner, fine forward, very clear in her afterlines, would evidently be fit for a rather long crossing, should the case arise; but the laying of the planking, the inner ceiling and the deck must still require a considerable lapse of time. Very fortunately, the ironwork of the old brig had been able to be saved after the submarine explosion. From the mutilated planks and bends, Pencroff and Ayrton had torn the treenails and a great quantity of copper nails. That was so much economized for the smiths, but the carpenters had much to do.

The construction works had to be interrupted during a week for those of the harvest, the haymaking and the gathering of the divers crops which abounded on the Grand-View Plateau. This task terminated, all instants were thenceforth consecrated to the completion of the schooner.

When night arrived, the workers were truly exhausted. In order to lose no time, they had modified the meal hours: they dined at noon and supped only when the daylight came to fail them. They then remounted to Granite House, and they hastened to go to bed. Sometimes, however, the conversation, when it bore on some interesting subject, retarded somewhat the hour of sleep. The colonists let themselves speak of the future, and they willingly talked of the changes that a voyage of the schooner to the nearest lands would bring to their situation. But amid these projects always dominated the thought of a later return to Lincoln Island. Never would they abandon this colony, founded with so much toil and success, and to which communications with America would give a new development.

Pencroff and Nab especially hoped well to end their days there.

"Harbert," said the sailor, "you will never abandon Lincoln Island?"

"Never, Pencroff, and above all if you take the part to remain there!"

"It is quite taken, my boy," answered Pencroff, "I shall wait for you! You will bring me back your wife and your children, and I shall make famous rogues of your little ones!"

"It is understood," replied Harbert, laughing and blushing at once.

"And you, Mr. Cyrus," resumed Pencroff, enthusiastic, "you will always be the governor of the island! Ah there! How many can it nourish? Ten thousand, at least!"

One talked thus, one let Pencroff go on, and, from subject to subject, the reporter ended by founding a newspaper, the New-Lincoln Herald! So it is with the heart of man. The need to do work that endures, that survives him, is the sign of his superiority over all that lives here below. It is that which has founded his domination, and it is that which justifies it in the whole world.

After that, who knows if Jup and Top had not, they also, their little dream of the future?

Ayrton, silent, told himself that he would wish to see Lord Glenarvan again and show himself to all, rehabilitated. One evening, the 15th of October, the conversation, launched across these hypotheses, had prolonged itself more than usual. It was nine o'clock in the evening. Already long yawns, ill disguised, sounded the hour of rest, and Pencroff had just directed himself toward his bed, when the electric bell, placed in the room, suddenly rang.

All were there, Cyrus Smith, Gideon Spilett, Harbert, Ayrton, Pencroff, Nab. There was then none of the colonists at the corral.

Cyrus Smith had risen. His companions looked at each other, believing they had heard amiss.

"What does that mean?" cried Nab. "Is it the devil who rings?"

No one answered.

"The weather is stormy," observed Harbert. "Can not the influence of electricity..."

Harbert did not finish his phrase. The engineer, toward whom all glances were turned, shook his head negatively.

"Let us wait," then said Gideon Spilett. "If it is a signal, whoever makes it will renew it."

"But who do you want it to be?" cried Nab.

"But," answered Pencroff, "he who..."

The sailor's phrase was cut by a new trembling of the trembler on the bell.

Cyrus Smith directed himself toward the apparatus and, launching the current through the wire, he sent this demand to the corral:

"What do you want?"

Some instants later, the needle, moving on the alphabetical dial, gave this answer to the guests of Granite House:

"Come to the corral in all haste."

"At last!" cried Cyrus Smith.

Yes! At last! The mystery was going to unveil itself! Before this immense interest which was going to push them to the corral, all fatigue of the colonists had disappeared, all need of rest had ceased. Without having pronounced a word, in a few instants, they had quit Granite House and found themselves on the beach. Alone, Jup and Top had remained. One could do without them.

The night was black. The moon, new that very day, had disappeared at the same time as the sun.

As Harbert had observed, heavy storm-clouds formed a low and weighty vault, which prevented any radiation of stars. Some heat-lightnings, reflections of a distant storm, illuminated the horizon.

It was possible that, some hours later, the thunder would burst on the island itself. It was a threatening night.

But the obscurity, however profound it was, could not stop people accustomed to that corral road.

They remounted the left bank of the Mercy, reached the plateau, passed the bridge of the glycine creek and advanced through the forest.

They walked at a good pace, prey to a very lively emotion. For them, there was no doubt, they were going to learn at last the so long sought word of the enigma, the name of that mysterious being, so profoundly entered into their life, so generous in his influence, so powerful in his action! Was it not necessary, indeed, that this unknown had been mingled with their existence, that he knew its slightest details, that he heard all that was said at Granite House, to have been able always to act in the nick of time?

Each one, lost in his reflections, quickened his step.

Under this vault of trees, the obscurity was such that the edge of the road was not even seen. No noise, besides, in the forest. Quadrupeds and birds, influenced by the heaviness of the atmosphere, were immobile and silent. No breath agitated the leaves. Alone, the step of the colonists resounded, in the shadow, on the hardened soil.

The silence, during the first quarter of an hour of march, was interrupted only by this observation of Pencroff:

"We should have taken a lantern."

And by this answer of the engineer:

"We shall find one at the corral."

“Stories of the world, in your language.”