Part 49

-- Take a lantern and a tinderbox, Ayrton, replied the engineer, and let us go."

Ayrton did as he was bidden. The onaggas, unharnessed, wandered in the corral. The door was shut from without, and Cyrus Smith, preceding Ayrton, took, toward the west, the narrow path that led to the coast.

Both walked on a ground cushioned by the powdery matters fallen from the cloud. No quadruped appeared under the woods. The birds themselves had fled. Sometimes a passing breeze lifted the layer of ash, and the two colonists, caught in an opaque whirlwind, no longer saw one another. They took care then to apply a handkerchief to their eyes and mouth, for they ran the risk of being blinded and suffocated.

Cyrus Smith and Ayrton could not, in these conditions, walk rapidly. Moreover, the air was heavy, as if its oxygen had been partly burned and it had become unfit for breathing.

Every hundred paces, they had to stop and catch their breath. It was therefore past ten o'clock when the engineer and his companion reached the crest of that enormous heap of basaltic and porphyritic rocks which formed the northwest coast of the island.

Ayrton and Cyrus Smith began to descend this abrupt coast, following nearly the detestable path which, during that stormy night, had led them to the Dakkar crypt. In broad daylight, this descent was less perilous, and, besides, the layer of ashes, covering the polish of the rocks, allowed the foot to be more firmly secured on their sloping surfaces.

The shoulder which prolonged the shore, at a height of about forty feet, was soon reached. Cyrus Smith remembered that this shoulder lowered by a gentle slope down to the level of the sea. Although the tide was low at this moment, no beach was laid bare, and the waves, soiled by the volcanic dust, came directly to beat the basalts of the coast.

Cyrus Smith and Ayrton readily found the opening of the Dakkar crypt, and they stopped under the last rock, which formed the lower ledge of the shoulder.

"The sheet-iron boat must be there? said the engineer.

-- It is there, Mr. Smith, replied Ayrton, drawing to him the light skiff, which was sheltered under the vaulting of the arch.

-- Let us embark, Ayrton."

The two colonists embarked in the boat. A slight undulation of the waves drew it more deeply under the very low arch of the crypt, and there, Ayrton, having struck the tinderbox, lit the lantern. Then, he seized the two oars, and the lantern having been placed on the prow of the boat, so as to cast its rays forward, Cyrus Smith took the rudder and directed himself amid the darkness of the crypt.

The Nautilus was no longer there to set ablaze with its lights this somber cavern. Perhaps the electric irradiation, still fed by its powerful source, still propagated itself in the depths of the waters, but no gleam issued from the abyss, where Captain Nemo rested.

The light of the lantern, though insufficient, nevertheless allowed the engineer to advance, following the right wall of the crypt. A sepulchral silence reigned under this vault, at least in its forward portion, for soon Cyrus Smith distinctly heard the rumblings which escaped from the bowels of the mountain.

"It is the volcano, he said."

Soon, with this noise, the chemical combinations betrayed themselves by a sharp odor, and sulfureous vapors seized the throat of the engineer and his companion.

"There is what Captain Nemo feared! murmured Cyrus Smith, whose face paled slightly. We must nevertheless go to the end.

-- Let us go! replied Ayrton, who bent over his oars and pushed the boat toward the head of the crypt.

Twenty-five minutes after passing the opening, the boat arrived at the terminal wall and stopped.

Cyrus Smith, then mounting on his bench, moved the lantern over the various parts of the wall, which separated the crypt from the central chimney of the volcano. What was the thickness of this wall?

Was it a hundred feet or ten, one could not have said. But the subterranean noises were too perceptible for it to be very thick.

The engineer, having explored the wall along a horizontal line, fixed the lantern to the end of an oar, and moved it again at a greater height over the basaltic wall.

There, through barely visible cracks, through ill-joined prisms, oozed an acrid smoke, which infected the atmosphere of the cavern. Fractures striped the wall, and some, more sharply drawn, lowered to only two or three feet above the waters of the crypt.

Cyrus Smith remained at first thoughtful. Then, he murmured again these words:

"Yes! The captain was right! There lies the danger, and a terrible danger!"

Ayrton said nothing, but, at a sign from Cyrus Smith, he took up his oars again, and, half an hour later, the engineer and he emerged from the Dakkar crypt.

CHAPTER XIX

The next morning, January 8, after a day and a night spent at the corral, all things being in order, Cyrus Smith and Ayrton returned to Granite-House. Immediately, the engineer gathered his companions, and told them that Lincoln Island was running an immense danger, which no human power could avert.

"My friends, he said, -- and his voice betrayed a profound emotion, -- Lincoln Island is not among those which are destined to last as long as the globe itself. It is doomed to a destruction more or less near, whose cause is within it, and from which nothing can withdraw it!"

The colonists looked at one another and looked at the engineer.

They could not understand him.

"Explain yourself, Cyrus! said Gideon Spilett.

-- I explain myself, replied Cyrus Smith, or rather, I shall do nothing but transmit to you the explanation which, during our few minutes of secret interview, Captain Nemo gave me.

-- Captain Nemo! cried the colonists.

-- Yes, and it is the last service he wished to render us before dying!

-- The last service! cried Pencroff! The last service! You will see that, dead as he is, he will render us others yet!

-- But what did Captain Nemo tell you? asked the reporter.

-- Know it then, my friends, replied the engineer. Lincoln Island is not in the condition of the other islands of the Pacific, and a particular disposition which Captain Nemo made known to me must bring about, sooner or later, the dislocation of its submarine framework.

-- A dislocation! Lincoln Island! Come now! cried Pencroff, who, despite all the respect he had for Cyrus Smith, could not help shrugging his shoulders.

-- Listen to me, Pencroff, resumed the engineer. Here is what Captain Nemo had observed, and what I observed myself, yesterday, during the exploration I made at the Dakkar crypt. This crypt extends under the island to the volcano, and is separated from the central chimney only by the wall which closes its head. Now, this wall is furrowed with fractures and cracks which already let pass the sulfureous gases developed inside the volcano.

-- Well? asked Pencroff, whose brow furrowed violently.

-- Well, I recognized that these fractures were enlarging under the internal pressure, that the basaltic wall was cracking little by little, and that, in a more or less short time, it would give passage to the waters of the sea with which the cavern is filled.

-- Good! replied Pencroff, who tried to jest once more. The sea will extinguish the volcano, and all will be over!

-- Yes, all will be over! replied Cyrus Smith. The day when the sea precipitates itself through the wall and penetrates by the central chimney even into the bowels of the island, where the eruptive matters boil, that day, Pencroff, Lincoln Island will blow up like Sicily would blow up if the Mediterranean precipitated itself into Etna!"

The colonists answered nothing to this so affirmative statement of the engineer. They had understood what danger threatened them.

It must be said, besides, that Cyrus Smith in no way exaggerated. Many people have already had the idea that one might perhaps extinguish volcanoes, which, almost all, rise on the shores of the sea or lakes, by opening a passage to their waters. But they did not know that one would thus expose oneself to blowing up a part of the globe, like a boiler whose steam is suddenly strained by a fire-shot. The water, precipitating itself into a closed medium whose temperature may be evaluated at thousands of degrees, would vaporize with so sudden an energy that no envelope could resist it.

It was therefore not doubtful that the island, threatened with a frightful and near dislocation, would last only as long as the wall of the Dakkar crypt itself lasted. It was not even a question of months, nor of weeks, but a question of days, perhaps of hours!

The first feeling of the colonists was a profound grief! They did not think of the peril which directly threatened them, but of the destruction of this soil which had given them asylum, of this island which they had fertilized, of this island which they loved, which they wished to render so flourishing one day!

So many fatigues uselessly spent, so many labors lost!

Pencroff could not hold back a big tear which slid down his cheek, and which he did not seek to hide.

The conversation continued for some time yet. The chances to which the colonists might still cling were discussed; but, to conclude, it was recognized that there was not an hour to lose, that the construction and fitting of the vessel must be pushed with a prodigious activity, and that there, now, was the only chance of salvation for the inhabitants of Lincoln Island!

All hands were therefore required. To what would it have served henceforth to harvest, to gather, to hunt, to increase the reserves of Granite-House? What the storeroom and offices still contained would suffice, and beyond, to provision the vessel for a crossing, however long it might be! What was needed was that it be at the disposal of the colonists before the accomplishment of the inevitable catastrophe.

The works were resumed with a feverish ardor. Toward January 23, the vessel was half planked. Until then, no modification had occurred at the summit of the volcano. It was still vapors, smokes mixed with flames and crossed by incandescent stones, which escaped from the crater. But, during the night of the 23rd to the 24th, under the effort of the lavas, which arrived at the level of the first floor of the volcano, the latter was decapped of the cone which formed its hat. A frightful noise resounded. The colonists first believed that the island was dislocating. They precipitated themselves out of Granite-House.

It was about two o'clock in the morning.

The sky was on fire. The upper cone -- a mass high of a thousand feet, weighing billions of pounds -- had been precipitated on the island, whose soil trembled.

Happily, this cone inclined toward the north, and it fell on the plain of sands and tuffs which extended between the volcano and the sea. The crater, widely opened then, projected toward the sky so intense a light, that, by the simple effect of reverberation, the atmosphere seemed incandescent. At the same time, a torrent of lavas, swelling at the new summit, poured out in long cascades, like the water which escapes from an overfull basin, and a thousand serpents of fire crept on the slopes of the volcano.

"The corral! The corral! cried Ayrton.

It was, in fact, toward the corral that the lavas were bearing, by reason of the orientation of the new crater, and, consequently, it was the fertile parts of the island, the sources of the red creek, the jacamar woods which were threatened with immediate destruction. At Ayrton's cry, the colonists precipitated themselves toward the onaggas' stable. The cart had been harnessed. They all had but one thought! To run to the corral and set free the animals it enclosed.

Before three o'clock in the morning, they had arrived at the corral. Dreadful howlings indicated enough what terror terrified the sheep and goats. Already a torrent of incandescent matters, of liquefied minerals, fell from the spur on the prairie and gnawed this side of the palisade. The door was abruptly opened by Ayrton, and the animals, maddened, escaped in all directions. An hour later, the boiling lava filled the corral, volatilized the water of the little rio which crossed it, set fire to the dwelling, which flamed like stubble, and devoured to the last post the palisaded enclosure. Of the corral nothing remained!

The colonists had wished to struggle against this invasion, they had attempted it, but madly and uselessly, for man is disarmed before these great cataclysms.

Day had come, -- January 24. -- Cyrus Smith and his companions, before returning to Granite-House, wished to observe the definitive direction that this inundation of lavas was going to take. The general slope of the soil lowered from Mount Franklin to the east coast, and it was to be feared that, despite the thick Jacamar woods, the torrent would propagate itself to the Grande-Vue plateau.

"The lake will cover us, said Gideon Spilett.

-- I hope so! replied Cyrus Smith, and that was all his response.

The colonists would have wished to advance to the plain on which the upper cone of Mount Franklin had fallen, but the lavas then barred their passage. They followed, on one side, the valley of the red creek, and, on the other, the valley of the waterfall river, vaporizing these two streams on their passage. There was no possibility of crossing this torrent; it was necessary, on the contrary, to retreat before it. The volcano, decrowned, was no longer recognizable. A sort of leveling terminated it then and replaced the old crater. Two outlets, hollowed at its south and east edges, incessantly poured the lavas, which thus formed two distinct currents. Above the new crater, a cloud of smoke and ashes mingled with the vapors of the sky, amassed above the island. Great claps of thunder burst and mingled with the rumblings of the mountain. From its mouth escaped igneous rocks which, projected to more than a thousand feet, burst in the clouds and dispersed like grapeshot. The sky answered with flashes of lightning to the volcanic eruption.

Toward seven o'clock in the morning, the position was no longer tenable for the colonists, who had taken refuge at the edge of the jacamar wood. Not only did the projectiles begin to rain around them, but the lavas, overflowing the bed of the red creek, threatened to cut the corral road. The first ranks of trees caught fire, and their sap, suddenly transformed into vapor, made them burst like firecrackers, while others, less humid, remained intact in the midst of the inundation.

The colonists had taken the corral road again. They walked slowly, backward so to speak.

But, by reason of the inclination of the soil, the torrent gained rapidly in the east, and, as soon as the lower layers of lavas had hardened, other bubbling sheets immediately covered them.

However, the principal current of the red creek valley became more and more threatening. All that part of the forest was ablaze, and enormous volumes of smoke rolled above the trees, whose foot already crackled in the lava.

The colonists stopped near the lake, half a mile from the mouth of the red creek. A question of life or death was going to be decided for them.

Cyrus Smith, accustomed to reckon grave situations, and knowing that he addressed himself to men capable of hearing the truth, whatever it might be, then said:

"Either the lake will stop this current, and a part of the island will be preserved from complete devastation, or the current will invade the forests of the Far-West, and not a tree, not a plant will remain on the surface of the soil. We shall have in prospect, on these denuded rocks, only a death which the explosion of the island will not make us await!

-- Then, cried Pencroff, crossing his arms and striking the earth with his foot, useless to work at the boat, is it not?

-- Pencroff, replied Cyrus Smith, one must do one's duty to the end!"

At this moment, the river of lavas, after having opened itself a passage through those beautiful trees which it devoured, arrived at the limit of the lake. There existed a certain raising of the soil which, had it been more considerable, might perhaps have sufficed to contain the torrent.

"To work! cried Cyrus Smith.

The engineer's thought was immediately understood.

This torrent, it was necessary to dam it, so to speak, and thus force it to pour into the lake.

The colonists ran to the shipyard. They brought back shovels, picks, axes, and there, by means of earthworks and felled trees, they managed, in a few hours, to raise a dike three feet high over some hundreds of paces in length. It seemed to them, when they had finished, that they had worked but a few minutes!

It was time. The liquefied matters almost immediately reached the lower part of the shoulder. The river swelled like a stream in full flood which seeks to overflow and threatened to pass the only obstacle which could prevent it from invading all the Far-West... But the dike managed to contain it, and, after a minute of terrible hesitation, it precipitated itself into Lake Grant by a fall twenty feet high.

The colonists, panting, without making a gesture, without pronouncing a word, then looked at this struggle of the two elements. What a spectacle was this combat between water and fire! What pen could describe this scene of wonderful horror, and what brush could paint it? The water hissed as it evaporated at contact with the boiling lavas. The vapors, projected into the air, whirled at an immeasurable height, as if the valves of an immense boiler had been suddenly opened.

But, however considerable the mass of water contained in the lake, it must end by being absorbed, since it did not renew itself, while the torrent, feeding at an inexhaustible source, rolled without cease new waves of incandescent matters.

The first lavas which fell into the lake solidified immediately and accumulated so as to soon emerge. On their surface slipped other lavas which in turn became stone, but gaining toward the center. A jetty thus formed and threatened to fill the lake, which could not overflow, for the surplus of its waters was spent in vapors. Hissings and cracklings tore the air with a deafening noise, and the mists, carried by the wind, fell back in rain on the sea. The jetty lengthened, and the blocks of solidified lavas piled themselves one on another. Where formerly extended peaceful waters appeared an enormous heap of smoking rocks, as if an upheaval of the soil had made thousands of reefs spring forth. Let one suppose those waters upheaved during a hurricane, then suddenly solidified by a cold of twenty degrees, and one will have the aspect of the lake, three hours after the irresistible torrent had made irruption there.

This time, the water was to be vanquished by the fire.

However, it was a fortunate circumstance for the colonists that the lava outflow had been directed toward Lake Grant. They had before them a few days of respite. The Grande-Vue plateau, Granite-House and the construction shipyard were momentarily preserved. Now, these few days, it was necessary to employ them to plank the vessel and to caulk it carefully. Then, one would launch it to the sea and take refuge in it, ready to rig it, when it rested in its element. With the fear of the explosion which threatened to destroy the island, there was no longer any security in remaining on land. This retreat of Granite-House, so safe until then, could at any minute close its granite walls!

During the six following days, from January 25 to 30, the colonists worked at the vessel as much as twenty men could have done. They scarcely took some rest, and the glare of the flames which sprang from the crater allowed them to continue night and day. The volcanic outflow was still occurring, but perhaps with less abundance. It was fortunate, for Lake Grant was almost entirely filled, and if new lavas had slipped on the surface of the old, they would inevitably have spread on the Grande-Vue plateau, and from there on the shore.

But if on this side the island was partly protected, it was not so with its western portion. Indeed, the second current of lavas which had followed the valley of the waterfall river, a wide valley, whose terrains depressed on each side of the creek, was to find no obstacle. The incandescent liquid had therefore spread through the Far-West forest. At this time of year when the essences were dried by a torrid heat, the forest caught fire instantaneously, so that the conflagration propagated itself at once by the base of the trunks and by the high branches whose interlacing aided the progress of the fire. It even seemed that the current of flame unchained itself faster at the tops of the trees than the current of lavas at their foot.

It happened then that the animals, maddened, wild or other, jaguars, boars, cabiais, koulas, game of fur and feather, took refuge toward the Mercy and in the tadornes marsh, beyond the port-balloon road. But the colonists were too occupied with their task, to pay attention even to the most formidable of these animals. They had, besides, abandoned Granite-House, they had not even wished to seek shelter in the chimneys, and they camped under a tent, near the mouth of the Mercy.

Each day, Cyrus Smith and Gideon Spilett climbed to the Grande-Vue plateau. Sometimes Harbert accompanied them, never Pencroff, who did not wish to see under its new aspect the island so deeply devastated!

It was a desolate spectacle, indeed. All the wooded part of the island was now denuded. A single cluster of green trees rose at the extremity of the serpentine peninsula. Here and there grinned some branchless and blackened stumps. The site of the destroyed forests was more arid than the tadornes marsh. The invasion of the lavas had been complete. Where formerly developed that admirable verdure, the soil was no longer but a savage heap of volcanic tuffs. The valleys of the waterfall river and the Mercy no longer poured a single drop of water to the sea, and the colonists would have had no means of appeasing their thirst, if Lake Grant had been entirely dried up. But, happily, its southern point had been spared and formed a sort of pond, containing all that remained of potable water in the island. Toward the northwest stood out in harsh and vivid ridges the spurs of the volcano, which figured a gigantic claw applied on the soil. What a painful spectacle, what a frightful aspect, and what regrets for these colonists, who, from a fertile domain, covered with forests, watered by streams, enriched with harvests, found themselves in an instant transported onto a devastated rock, on which, without their reserves, they would not even have found means to live!

"That breaks the heart! said one day Gideon Spilett.

-- Yes, Spilett, replied the engineer. May heaven give us time to finish this building, now our only refuge!

-- Do you not find, Cyrus, that the volcano seems willing to calm down? It still vomits lavas, but less abundantly, if I am not mistaken!

-- It matters little, replied Cyrus Smith. The fire is always ardent in the bowels of the mountain, and the sea may precipitate itself there at any moment. We are in the situation of passengers whose vessel is devoured by a fire they cannot extinguish, and who know that sooner or later it will reach the powder magazine! Come, Spilett, come, and let us not lose an hour!"

For eight days yet, that is to say until February 7, the lavas continued to spread, but the eruption maintained itself within the indicated limits.

Cyrus Smith feared above all that the liquefied matters might come to overflow on the shore, and, in that case, the construction shipyard would not have been spared. However, toward this epoch, the colonists felt in the framework of the island vibrations which alarmed them to the highest point.

It was February 20. A month more was needed before the vessel would be in a state to take the sea.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”