The Mysterious Island (13 page)

It was nearly eight o'clock when Cyrus Harding and Herbert set foot on
the highest ridge of the mountain at the summit of the cone.

It was then perfectly dark, and their gaze could not extend over a
radius of two miles. Did the sea surround this unknown land, or was it
connected in the west with some continent of the Pacific? It could not
yet be made out. Towards the west, a cloudy belt, clearly visible at the
horizon, increased the gloom, and the eye could not discover if the sky
and water were blended together in the same circular line.

But at one point of the horizon a vague light suddenly appeared, which
descended slowly in proportion as the cloud mounted to the zenith.

It was the slender crescent moon, already almost disappearing; but its
light was sufficient to show clearly the horizontal line, then detached
from the cloud, and the engineer could see its reflection trembling for
an instant on a liquid surface. Cyrus Harding seized the lad's hand, and
in a grave voice,—

"An island!" said he, at the moment when the lunar crescent disappeared
beneath the waves.

Half an hour later Cyrus Harding and Herbert had returned to the
encampment. The engineer merely told his companions that the land upon
which fate had thrown them was an island, and that the next day they
would consult. Then each settled himself as well as he could to sleep,
and in that rocky hole, at a height of two thousand five hundred feet
above the level of the sea, through a peaceful night, the islanders
enjoyed profound repose.

The next day, the 30th of March, after a hasty breakfast, which
consisted solely of the roasted tragopan, the engineer wished to climb
again to the summit of the volcano, so as more attentively to survey
the island upon which he and his companions were imprisoned for life
perhaps, should the island be situated at a great distance from any
land, or if it was out of the course of vessels which visited the
archipelagoes of the Pacific Ocean. This time his companions followed
him in the new exploration. They also wished to see the island, on the
productions of which they must depend for the supply of all their wants.

It was about seven o'clock in the morning when Cyrus Harding, Herbert,
Pencroft, Gideon Spilett, and Neb quitted the encampment. No one
appeared to be anxious about their situation. They had faith in
themselves, doubtless, but it must be observed that the basis of this
faith was not the same with Harding as with his companions. The engineer
had confidence, because he felt capable of extorting from this wild
country everything necessary for the life of himself and his companions;
the latter feared nothing, just because Cyrus Harding was with them.
Pencroft especially, since the incident of the relighted fire, would
not have despaired for an instant, even if he was on a bare rock, if the
engineer was with him on the rock.

"Pshaw," said he, "we left Richmond without permission from the
authorities! It will be hard if we don't manage to get away some day or
other from a place where certainly no one will detain us!"

Cyrus Harding followed the same road as the evening before. They went
round the cone by the plateau which formed the shoulder, to the mouth of
the enormous chasm. The weather was magnificent. The sun rose in a pure
sky and flooded with his rays all the eastern side of the mountain.

The crater was reached. It was just what the engineer had made it out to
be in the dark; that is to say, a vast funnel which extended, widening,
to a height of a thousand feet above the plateau. Below the chasm, large
thick streaks of lava wound over the sides of the mountain, and thus
marked the course of the eruptive matter to the lower valleys which
furrowed the northern part of the island.

The interior of the crater, whose inclination did not exceed thirty five
to forty degrees, presented no difficulties nor obstacles to the ascent.
Traces of very ancient lava were noticed, which probably had overflowed
the summit of the cone, before this lateral chasm had opened a new way
to it.

As to the volcanic chimney which established a communication between the
subterranean layers and the crater, its depth could not be calculated
with the eye, for it was lost in obscurity. But there was no doubt as to
the complete extinction of the volcano.

Before eight o'clock Harding and his companions were assembled at the
summit of the crater, on a conical mound which swelled the northern
edge.

"The sea, the sea everywhere!" they cried, as if their lips could not
restrain the words which made islanders of them.

The sea, indeed, formed an immense circular sheet of water all around
them! Perhaps, on climbing again to the summit of the cone, Cyrus
Harding had had a hope of discovering some coast, some island shore,
which he had not been able to perceive in the dark the evening before.
But nothing appeared on the farthest verge of the horizon, that is to
say over a radius of more than fifty miles. No land in sight. Not a
sail. Over all this immense space the ocean alone was visible—the
island occupied the center of a circumference which appeared to be
infinite.

The engineer and his companions, mute and motionless, surveyed for
some minutes every point of the ocean, examining it to its most extreme
limits. Even Pencroft, who possessed a marvelous power of sight, saw
nothing; and certainly if there had been land at the horizon, if it
appeared only as an indistinct vapor, the sailor would undoubtedly
have found it out, for nature had placed regular telescopes under his
eyebrows.

From the ocean their gaze returned to the island which they commanded
entirely, and the first question was put by Gideon Spilett in these
terms:

"About what size is this island?"

Truly, it did not appear large in the midst of the immense ocean.

Cyrus Harding reflected a few minutes; he attentively observed the
perimeter of the island, taking into consideration the height at which
he was placed; then,—

"My friends," said he, "I do not think I am mistaken in giving to the
shore of the island a circumference of more than a hundred miles."

"And consequently an area?"

"That is difficult to estimate," replied the engineer, "for it is so
uneven."

If Cyrus Harding was not mistaken in his calculation, the island had
almost the extent of Malta or Zante, in the Mediterranean, but it was at
the same time much more irregular and less rich in capes, promontories,
points, bays, or creeks. Its strange form caught the eye, and when
Gideon Spilett, on the engineer's advice, had drawn the outline, they
found that it resembled some fantastic animal, a monstrous leviathan,
which lay sleeping on the surface of the Pacific.

This was in fact the exact shape of the island, which it is of
consequence to know, and a tolerably correct map of it was immediately
drawn by the reporter.

The east part of the shore, where the castaways had landed, formed a
wide bay, terminated by a sharp cape, which had been concealed by a high
point from Pencroft on his first exploration. At the northeast two other
capes closed the bay, and between them ran a narrow gulf, which looked
like the half-open jaws of a formidable dog-fish.

From the northeast to the southwest the coast was rounded, like
the flattened cranium of an animal, rising again, forming a sort of
protuberance which did not give any particular shape to this part of the
island, of which the center was occupied by the volcano.

From this point the shore ran pretty regularly north and south, broken
at two-thirds of its perimeter by a narrow creek, from which it ended in
a long tail, similar to the caudal appendage of a gigantic alligator.

This tail formed a regular peninsula, which stretched more than thirty
miles into the sea, reckoning from the cape southeast of the island,
already mentioned; it curled round, making an open roadstead, which
marked out the lower shore of this strangely-formed land.

At the narrowest part, that is to say between the Chimneys and the creek
on the western shore, which corresponded to it in latitude, the island
only measured ten miles; but its greatest length, from the jaws at the
northeast to the extremity of the tail of the southwest, was not less
than thirty miles.

As to the interior of the island, its general aspect was this, very
woody throughout the southern part from the mountain to the shore, and
arid and sandy in the northern part. Between the volcano and the east
coast Cyrus Harding and his companions were surprised to see a
lake, bordered with green trees, the existence of which they had not
suspected. Seen from this height, the lake appeared to be on the same
level as the ocean, but, on reflection, the engineer explained to his
companions that the altitude of this little sheet of water must be about
three hundred feet, because the plateau, which was its basin, was but a
prolongation of the coast.

"Is it a freshwater lake?" asked Pencroft.

"Certainly," replied the engineer, "for it must be fed by the water
which flows from the mountain."

"I see a little river which runs into it," said Herbert, pointing out a
narrow stream, which evidently took its source somewhere in the west.

"Yes," said Harding; "and since this stream feeds the lake, most
probably on the side near the sea there is an outlet by which the
surplus water escapes. We shall see that on our return."

This little winding watercourse and the river already mentioned
constituted the water-system, at least such as it was displayed to the
eyes of the explorers. However, it was possible that under the masses of
trees which covered two-thirds of the island, forming an immense forest,
other rivers ran towards the sea. It might even be inferred that such
was the case, so rich did this region appear in the most magnificent
specimens of the flora of the temperate zones. There was no indication
of running water in the north, though perhaps there might be stagnant
water among the marshes in the northeast; but that was all, in addition
to the downs, sand, and aridity which contrasted so strongly with the
luxuriant vegetation of the rest of the island.

The volcano did not occupy the central part; it rose, on the contrary,
in the northwestern region, and seemed to mark the boundary of the two
zones. At the southwest, at the south, and the southeast, the first part
of the spurs were hidden under masses of verdure. At the north, on the
contrary, one could follow their ramifications, which died away on the
sandy plains. It was on this side that, at the time when the mountain
was in a state of eruption, the discharge had worn away a passage, and
a large heap of lava had spread to the narrow jaw which formed the
northeastern gulf.

Cyrus Harding and his companions remained an hour at the top of the
mountain. The island was displayed under their eyes, like a plan in
relief with different tints, green for the forests, yellow for the
sand, blue for the water. They viewed it in its tout-ensemble, nothing
remained concealed but the ground hidden by verdure, the hollows of the
valleys, and the interior of the volcanic chasms.

One important question remained to be solved, and the answer would have
a great effect upon the future of the castaways.

Was the island inhabited?

It was the reporter who put this question, to which after the close
examination they had just made, the answer seemed to be in the negative.

Nowhere could the work of a human hand be perceived. Not a group of
huts, not a solitary cabin, not a fishery on the shore. No smoke curling
in the air betrayed the presence of man. It is true, a distance of
nearly thirty miles separated the observers from the extreme points,
that is, of the tail which extended to the southwest, and it would have
been difficult, even to Pencroft's eyes, to discover a habitation there.
Neither could the curtain of verdure, which covered three-quarters
of the island, be raised to see if it did not shelter some straggling
village. But in general the islanders live on the shores of the narrow
spaces which emerge above the waters of the Pacific, and this shore
appeared to be an absolute desert.

Until a more complete exploration, it might be admitted that the island
was uninhabited. But was it frequented, at least occasionally, by
the natives of neighboring islands? It was difficult to reply to this
question. No land appeared within a radius of fifty miles. But fifty
miles could be easily crossed, either by Malay proas or by the large
Polynesian canoes. Everything depended on the position of the island,
of its isolation in the Pacific, or of its proximity to archipelagoes.
Would Cyrus Harding be able to find out their latitude and longitude
without instruments? It would be difficult. Since he was in doubt, it
was best to take precautions against a possible descent of neighboring
natives.

The exploration of the island was finished, its shape determined, its
features made out, its extent calculated, the water and mountain systems
ascertained. The disposition of the forests and plains had been marked
in a general way on the reporter's plan. They had now only to descend
the mountain slopes again, and explore the soil, in the triple point of
view, of its mineral, vegetable, and animal resources.

But before giving his companions the signal for departure, Cyrus Harding
said to them in a calm, grave voice,—

"Here, my friends, is the small corner of land upon which the hand of
the Almighty has thrown us. We are going to live here; a long time,
perhaps. Perhaps, too, unexpected help will arrive, if some ship passes
by chance. I say by chance, because this is an unimportant island; there
is not even a port in which ships could anchor, and it is to be feared
that it is situated out of the route usually followed, that is to say,
too much to the south for the ships which frequent the archipelagoes of
the Pacific, and too much to the north for those which go to Australia
by doubling Cape Horn. I wish to hide nothing of our position from
you—"