The Mysterious Island (46 page)

BR—TAN—A

"Britannia," exclaimed Pencroft, whom the reporter had called; "it is
a common name for ships, and I could not say if she was English or
American!"

"It matters very little, Pencroft!"

"Very little indeed," answered the sailor, "and we will save the
survivor of her crew if he is still living, to whatever country he may
belong. But before beginning our search again let us go on board the
'Bonadventure'."

A sort of uneasiness had seized Pencroft upon the subject of his vessel.
Should the island be inhabited after all, and should some one have taken
possession of her? But he shrugged his shoulders at such an unreasonable
supposition. At any rate the sailor was not sorry to go to breakfast on
board. The road already trodden was not long, scarcely a mile. They set
out on their walk, gazing into the wood and thickets through which goats
and pigs fled in hundreds.

Twenty minutes after leaving the hut Pencroft and his companions reached
the western coast of the island, and saw the "Bonadventure" held fast by
her anchor, which was buried deep in the sand.

Pencroft could not restrain a sigh of satisfaction. After all this
vessel was his child, and it is the right of fathers to be often uneasy
when there is no occasion for it.

They returned on board, breakfasted, so that it should not be necessary
to dine until very late; then the repast being ended, the exploration
was continued and conducted with the most minute care. Indeed, it was
very probable that the only inhabitant of the island had perished. It
was therefore more for the traces of a dead than of a living man that
Pencroft and his companions searched. But their searches were vain, and
during the half of that day they sought to no purpose among the thickets
of trees which covered the islet. There was then scarcely any doubt
that, if the castaway was dead, no trace of his body now remained, but
that some wild beast had probably devoured it to the last bone.

"We will set off to-morrow at daybreak," said Pencroft to his two
companions, as about two o'clock they were resting for a few minutes
under the shade of a clump of firs.

"I should think that we might without scruple take the utensils which
belonged to the castaway," added Herbert.

"I think so, too," returned Gideon Spilett, "and these arms and tools
will make up the stores of Granite House. The supply of powder and shot
is also most important."

"Yes," replied Pencroft, "but we must not forget to capture a couple or
two of those pigs, of which Lincoln Island is destitute."

"Nor to gather those seeds," added Herbert, "which will give us all the
vegetables of the Old and the New Worlds."

"Then perhaps it would be best," said the reporter, "to remain a day
longer on Tabor Island, so as to collect all that may be useful to us."

"No, Mr. Spilett," answered Pencroft, "I will ask you to set off
to-morrow at daybreak. The wind seems to me to be likely to shift to the
west, and after having had a fair wind for coming we shall have a fair
wind for going back."

"Then do not let us lose time," said Herbert, rising.

"We won't waste time," returned Pencroft. "You, Herbert, go and gather
the seeds, which you know better than we do. While you do that, Mr.
Spilett and I will go and have a pig hunt, and even without Top I hope
we shall manage to catch a few!"

Herbert accordingly took the path which led towards the cultivated part
of the islet, while the sailor and the reporter entered the forest.

Many specimens of the porcine race fled before them, and these animals,
which were singularly active, did not appear to be in a humor to allow
themselves to be approached.

However, after an hour's chase, the hunters had just managed to get hold
of a couple lying in a thicket, when cries were heard resounding from
the north part of the island, With the cries were mingled terrible
yells, in which there was nothing human.

Pencroft and Gideon Spilett were at once on their feet, and the pigs
by this movement began to run away, at the moment when the sailor was
getting ready the rope to bind them.

"That's Herbert's voice," said the reporter.

"Run!" exclaimed Pencroft.

And the sailor and Spilett immediately ran at full speed towards the
spot from whence the cries proceeded.

They did well to hasten, for at a turn of the path near a clearing they
saw the lad thrown on the ground and in the grasp of a savage being,
apparently a gigantic ape, who was about to do him some great harm.

To rush on this monster, throw him on the ground in his turn, snatch
Herbert from him, then bind him securely, was the work of a minute for
Pencroft and Gideon Spilett. The sailor was of Herculean strength, the
reporter also very powerful, and in spite of the monster's resistance he
was firmly tied so that he could not even move.

"You are not hurt, Herbert?" asked Spilett.

"No, no!"

"Oh, if this ape had wounded him!" exclaimed Pencroft.

"But he is not an ape," answered Herbert.

At these words Pencroft and Gideon Spilett looked at the singular being
who lay on the ground. Indeed it was not an ape; it was a human being,
a man. But what a man! A savage in all the horrible acceptation of the
word, and so much the more frightful that he seemed fallen to the lowest
degree of brutishness!

Shaggy hair, untrimmed beard descending to the chest, the body almost
naked except a rag round the waist, wild eyes, enormous hands with
immensely long nails, skin the color of mahogany, feet as hard as if
made of horn, such was the miserable creature who yet had a claim to be
called a man. But it might justly be asked if there were yet a soul in
this body, or if the brute instinct alone survived in it!

"Are you quite sure that this is a man, or that he has ever been one?"
said Pencroft to the reporter.

"Alas! there is no doubt about it," replied Spilett.

"Then this must be the castaway?" asked Herbert.

"Yes," replied Gideon Spilett, "but the unfortunate man has no longer
anything human about him!"

The reporter spoke the truth. It was evident that if the castaway had
ever been a civilized being, solitude had made him a savage, or worse,
perhaps a regular man of the woods. Hoarse sounds issued from his throat
between his teeth, which were sharp as the teeth of a wild beast made to
tear raw flesh.

Memory must have deserted him long before, and for a long time also he
had forgotten how to use his gun and tools, and he no longer knew how to
make a fire! It could be seen that he was active and powerful, but the
physical qualities had been developed in him to the injury of the moral
qualities. Gideon Spilett spoke to him. He did not appear to understand
or even to hear. And yet on looking into his eyes, the reporter thought
he could see that all reason was not extinguished in him. However, the
prisoner did not struggle, nor even attempt to break his bonds. Was he
overwhelmed by the presence of men whose fellow he had once been? Had he
found in some corner of his brain a fleeting remembrance which recalled
him to humanity? If free, would he attempt to fly, or would he remain?
They could not tell, but they did not make the experiment; and after
gazing attentively at the miserable creature,—

"Whoever he may be," remarked Gideon Spilett, "whoever he may have
been, and whatever he may become, it is our duty to take him with us to
Lincoln Island."

"Yes, yes!" replied Herbert, "and perhaps with care we may arouse in him
some gleam of intelligence."

"The soul does not die," said the reporter, "and it would be a great
satisfaction to rescue one of God's creatures from brutishness."

Pencroft shook his head doubtfully.

"We must try at any rate," returned the reporter; "humanity commands
us."

It was indeed their duty as Christians and civilized beings. All three
felt this, and they well knew that Cyrus Harding would approve of their
acting thus.

"Shall we leave him bound?" asked the sailor.

"Perhaps he would walk if his feet were unfastened," said Herbert.

"Let us try," replied Pencroft.

The cords which shackled the prisoner's feet were cut off, but his arms
remained securely fastened. He got up by himself and did not manifest
any desire to run away. His hard eyes darted a piercing glance at the
three men, who walked near him, but nothing denoted that he recollected
being their fellow, or at least having been so. A continual hissing
sound issued from his lips, his aspect was wild, but he did not attempt
to resist.

By the reporter's advice the unfortunate man was taken to the hut.
Perhaps the sight of the things that belonged to him would make some
impression on him! Perhaps a spark would be sufficient to revive his
obscured intellect, to rekindle his dulled soul. The dwelling was
not far off. In a few minutes they arrived there, but the prisoner
remembered nothing, and it appeared that he had lost consciousness of
everything.

What could they think of the degree of brutishness into which this
miserable being had fallen, unless that his imprisonment on the islet
dated from a very distant period and after having arrived there a
rational being solitude had reduced him to this condition.

The reporter then thought that perhaps the sight of fire would have
some effect on him, and in a moment one of those beautiful flames, that
attract even animals, blazed up on the hearth. The sight of the flame
seemed at first to fix the attention of the unhappy object, but soon
he turned away and the look of intelligence faded. Evidently there was
nothing to be done, for the time at least, but to take him on board
the "Bonadventure." This was done, and he remained there in Pencroft's
charge.

Herbert and Spilett returned to finish their work; and some hours after
they came back to the shore, carrying the utensils and guns, a store of
vegetables, of seeds, some game, and two couple of pigs.

All was embarked, and the "Bonadventure" was ready to weigh anchor and
sail with the morning tide.

The prisoner had been placed in the fore-cabin, where he remained quiet,
silent, apparently deaf and dumb.

Pencroft offered him something to eat, but he pushed away the cooked
meat that was presented to him and which doubtless did not suit him. But
on the sailor showing him one of the ducks which Herbert had killed, he
pounced on it like a wild beast, and devoured it greedily.

"You think that he will recover his senses?" asked Pencroft. "It is
not impossible that our care will have an effect upon him, for it is
solitude that has made him what he is, and from this time forward he
will be no longer alone."

"The poor man must no doubt have been in this state for a long time,"
said Herbert.

"Perhaps," answered Gideon Spilett.

"About what age is he?" asked the lad.

"It is difficult to say," replied the reporter, "for it is impossible to
see his features under the thick beard which covers his face, but he is
no longer young, and I suppose he might be about fifty."

"Have you noticed, Mr. Spilett, how deeply sunk his eyes are?" asked
Herbert.

"Yes, Herbert, but I must add that they are more human than one could
expect from his appearance."

"However, we shall see," replied Pencroft, "and I am anxious to know
what opinion Captain Harding will have of our savage. We went to look
for a human creature, and we are bringing back a monster! After all, we
did what we could."

The night passed, and whether the prisoner slept or not could not be
known, but at any rate, although he had been unbound, he did not
move. He was like a wild animal, which appears stunned at first by its
capture, and becomes wild again afterwards.

At daybreak the next morning, the 15th of October, the change of weather
predicted by Pencroft occurred. The wind having shifted to the northwest
favored the return of the "Bonadventure," but at the same time it
freshened, which might render navigation more difficult.

At five o'clock in the morning the anchor was weighed. Pencroft took a
reef in the mainsail, and steered towards the north-east, so as to sail
straight for Lincoln Island.

The first day of the voyage was not marked by any incident. The prisoner
remained quiet in the fore-cabin, and as he had been a sailor it
appeared that the motion of the vessel might produce on him a salutary
reaction. Did some recollection of his former calling return to him?
However that might be, he remained tranquil, astonished rather than
depressed.

The next day the wind increased, blowing more from the north,
consequently in a less favorable direction for the "Bonadventure."
Pencroft was soon obliged to sail close-hauled, and without saying
anything about it he began to be uneasy at the state of the sea, which
frequently broke over the bows. Certainly, if the wind did not moderate,
it would take a longer time to reach Lincoln Island than it had taken to
make Tabor Island.

Indeed, on the morning of the 17th, the "Bonadventure" had been
forty-eight hours at sea, and nothing showed that she was near the
island. It was impossible, besides, to estimate the distance traversed,
or to trust to the reckoning for the direction, as the speed had been
very irregular.

Twenty-four hours after there was yet no land in sight. The wind was
right ahead and the sea very heavy. The sails were close-reefed, and
they tacked frequently. On the 18th, a wave swept completely over the
"Bonadventure"; and if the crew had not taken the precaution of lashing
themselves to the deck, they would have been carried away.

On this occasion Pencroft and his companions, who were occupied with
loosing themselves, received unexpected aid from the prisoner, who
emerged from the hatchway as if his sailor's instinct had suddenly
returned, broke a piece out of the bulwarks with a spar so as to let
the water which filled the deck escape. Then the vessel being clear, he
descended to his cabin without having uttered a word. Pencroft, Gideon
Spilett, and Herbert, greatly astonished, let him proceed.