The Mysterious Island (63 page)

"Then, Pencroft," said Herbert, "would it not be wisest to bring the
'Bonadventure' off to Granite House?"

"Yes and no," answered Pencroft, "or rather no. The mouth of the Mercy
is a bad place for a vessel, and the sea is heavy there."

"But by hauling her up on the sand, to the foot of the Chimneys?"

"Perhaps yes," replied Pencroft. "At any rate, since we must leave
Granite House for a long expedition, I think the 'Bonadventure' will be
safer here during our absence, and we shall do best to leave her here
until the island is rid of these blackguards."

"That is exactly my opinion," said the reporter. "At any rate in the
event of bad weather, she will not be exposed here as she would be at
the mouth of the Mercy."

"But suppose the convicts pay her another visit," said Herbert.

"Well, my boy," replied Pencroft, "not finding her here, they would not
be long in finding her on the sands of Granite House, and, during our
absence, nothing could hinder them from seizing her! I agree, therefore,
with Mr. Spilett, that she must be left in Port Balloon. But, if on our
return we have not rid the island of those rascals, it will be prudent
to bring our boat to Granite House, until the time when we need not fear
any unpleasant visits."

"That's settled. Let us be off," said the reporter.

Pencroft, Herbert, and Gideon Spilett, on their return to Granite House,
told the engineer all that had passed, and the latter approved of their
arrangements both for the present and the future. He also promised the
sailor that he would study that part of the channel situated between the
islet and the coast, so as to ascertain if it would not be possible
to make an artificial harbor there by means of dams. In this way, the
"Bonadventure" would be always within reach, under the eyes of the
colonists, and if necessary, under lock and key.

That evening a telegram was sent to Ayrton, requesting him to bring from
the corral a couple of goats, which Neb wished to acclimatize to the
plateau. Singularly enough, Ayrton did not acknowledge the receipt of
the despatch, as he was accustomed to do. This could not but astonish
the engineer. But it might be that Ayrton was not at that moment in the
corral, or even that he was on his way back to Granite House. In fact,
two days had already passed since his departure, and it had been decided
that on the evening of the 10th or at the latest the morning of the
11th, he should return. The colonists waited, therefore, for Ayrton to
appear on Prospect Heights. Neb and Herbert even watched at the bridge
so as to be ready to lower it the moment their companion presented
himself.

But up to ten in the evening, there were no signs of Ayrton. It was,
therefore, judged best to send a fresh despatch, requiring an immediate
reply.

The bell of the telegraph at Granite House remained mute.

The colonists' uneasiness was great. What had happened? Was Ayrton no
longer at the corral, or if he was still there, had he no longer control
over his movements? Could they go to the corral in this dark night?

They consulted. Some wished to go, the others to remain.

"But," said Herbert, "perhaps some accident has happened to the
telegraphic apparatus, so that it works no longer?"

"That may be," said the reporter.

"Wait till to-morrow," replied Cyrus Harding. "It is possible, indeed,
that Ayrton has not received our despatch, or even that we have not
received his."

They waited, of course not without some anxiety.

At dawn of day, the 11th of November, Harding again sent the electric
current along the wire and received no reply.

He tried again: the same result.

"Off to the corral," said he.

"And well armed!" added Pencroft.

It was immediately decided that Granite House should not be left alone
and that Neb should remain there. After having accompanied his friends
to Creek Glycerine, he raised the bridge; and waiting behind a tree he
watched for the return of either his companions or Ayrton.

In the event of the pirates presenting themselves and attempting to
force the passage, he was to endeavor to stop them by firing on them,
and as a last resource he was to take refuge in Granite House, where,
the lift once raised, he would be in safety.

Cyrus Harding, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, and Pencroft were to repair
to the corral, and if they did not find Ayrton, search the neighboring
woods.

At six o'clock in the morning, the engineer and his three companions
had passed Creek Glycerine, and Neb posted himself behind a small mound
crowned by several dragon trees, on the left bank of the stream.

The colonists, after leaving the plateau of Prospect Heights,
immediately took the road to the corral. They shouldered their guns,
ready to fire on the slightest hostile demonstration. The two rifles and
the two guns had been loaded with ball.

The wood was thick on each side of the road and might easily have
concealed the convicts, who owing to their weapons would have been
really formidable.

The colonists walked rapidly and in silence. Top preceded them,
sometimes running on the road, sometimes taking a ramble into the wood,
but always quiet and not appearing to fear anything unusual. And
they could be sure that the faithful dog would not allow them to be
surprised, but would bark at the least appearance of danger.

Cyrus Harding and his companions followed beside the road the wire which
connected the corral with Granite House. After walking for nearly two
miles, they had not as yet discovered any explanation of the difficulty.
The posts were in good order, the wire regularly extended. However, at
that moment the engineer observed that the wire appeared to be slack,
and on arriving at post No. 74, Herbert, who was in advance stopped,
exclaiming,—

"The wire is broken!"

His companions hurried forward and arrived at the spot where the lad
was standing. The post was rooted up and lying across the path. The
unexpected explanation of the difficulty was here, and it was evident
that the despatches from Granite House had not been received at the
corral, nor those from the corral at Granite House.

"It wasn't the wind that blew down this post," observed Pencroft.

"No," replied Gideon Spilett. "The earth has been dug up round its foot,
and it has been torn up by the hand of man."

"Besides, the wire is broken," added Herbert, showing that the wire had
been snapped.

"Is the fracture recent?" asked Harding.

"Yes," answered Herbert, "it has certainly been done quite lately."

"To the corral! to the corral!" exclaimed the sailor.

The colonists were now half way between Granite House and the corral,
having still two miles and a half to go. They pressed forward with
redoubled speed.

Indeed, it was to be feared that some serious accident had occurred in
the corral. No doubt, Ayrton might have sent a telegram which had not
arrived, but this was not the reason why his companions were so uneasy,
for, a more unaccountable circumstance, Ayrton, who had promised to
return the evening before, had not reappeared. In short, it was not
without a motive that all communication had been stopped between the
corral and Granite House, and who but the convicts could have any
interest in interrupting this communication?

The settlers hastened on, their hearts oppressed with anxiety. They were
sincerely attached to their new companion. Were they to find him struck
down by the hands of those of whom he was formerly the leader?

Soon they arrived at the place where the road led along the side of the
little stream which flowed from the Red Creek and watered the meadows
of the corral. They then moderated their pace so that they should not
be out of breath at the moment when a struggle might be necessary. Their
guns were in their hands ready cocked. The forest was watched on every
side. Top uttered sullen groans which were rather ominous.

At last the palisade appeared through the trees. No trace of any damage
could be seen. The gate was shut as usual. Deep silence reigned in the
corral. Neither the accustomed bleating of the sheep nor Ayrton's voice
could be heard.

"Let us enter," said Cyrus Harding.

And the engineer advanced, while his companions, keeping watch about
twenty paces behind him, were ready to fire at a moment's notice.

Harding raised the inner latch of the gate and was about to push it
back, when Top barked loudly. A report sounded and was responded to by a
cry of pain.

Herbert, struck by a bullet, lay stretched on the ground.

At Herbert's cry, Pencroft, letting his gun fall, rushed towards him.

"They have killed him!" he cried. "My boy! They have killed him!"

Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett ran to Herbert.

The reporter listened to ascertain if the poor lad's heart was still
beating.

"He lives," said he, "but he must be carried—"

"To Granite House? that is impossible!" replied the engineer.

"Into the corral, then!" said Pencroft.

"In a moment," said Harding.

And he ran round the left corner of the palisade. There he found a
convict, who aiming at him, sent a ball through his hat. In a few
seconds, before he had even time to fire his second barrel, he fell,
struck to the heart by Harding's dagger, more sure even than his gun.

During this time, Gideon Spilett and the sailor hoisted themselves over
the palisade, leaped into the enclosure, threw down the props which
supported the inner door, ran into the empty house, and soon, poor
Herbert was lying on Ayrton's bed. In a few moments, Harding was by his
side.

On seeing Herbert senseless, the sailor's grief was terrible.

He sobbed, he cried, he tried to beat his head against the wall.

Neither the engineer nor the reporter could calm him. They themselves
were choked with emotion. They could not speak.

However, they knew that it depended on them to rescue from death the
poor boy who was suffering beneath their eyes. Gideon Spilett had not
passed through the many incidents by which his life had been checkered
without acquiring some slight knowledge of medicine. He knew a little
of everything, and several times he had been obliged to attend to wounds
produced either by a sword-bayonet or shot. Assisted by Cyrus Harding,
he proceeded to render the aid Herbert required.

The reporter was immediately struck by the complete stupor in which
Herbert lay, a stupor owing either to the hemorrhage, or to the shock,
the ball having struck a bone with sufficient force to produce a violent
concussion.

Herbert was deadly pale, and his pulse so feeble that Spilett only felt
it beat at long intervals, as if it was on the point of stopping.

These symptoms were very serious.

Herbert's chest was laid bare, and the blood having been stanched with
handkerchiefs, it was bathed with cold water.

The contusion, or rather the contused wound appeared,—an oval below the
chest between the third and fourth ribs. It was there that Herbert had
been hit by the bullet.

Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett then turned the poor boy over; as they
did so, he uttered a moan so feeble that they almost thought it was his
last sigh.

Herberts back was covered with blood from another contused wound, by
which the ball had immediately escaped.

"God be praised!" said the reporter, "the ball is not in the body, and
we shall not have to extract it."

"But the heart?" asked Harding.

"The heart has not been touched; if it had been, Herbert would be dead!"

"Dead!" exclaimed Pencroft, with a groan.

The sailor had only heard the last words uttered by the reporter.

"No, Pencroft," replied Cyrus Harding, "no! He is not dead. His pulse
still beats. He has even uttered a moan. But for your boy's sake, calm
yourself. We have need of all our self-possession."

"Do not make us lose it, my friend."

Pencroft was silent, but a reaction set in, and great tears rolled down
his cheeks.

In the meanwhile, Gideon Spilett endeavored to collect his ideas, and
proceed methodically. After his examination he had no doubt that the
ball, entering in front, between the seventh and eighth ribs, had issued
behind between the third and fourth. But what mischief had the ball
committed in its passage? What important organs had been reached? A
professional surgeon would have had difficulty in determining this at
once, and still more so the reporter.

However, he knew one thing, this was that he would have to prevent the
inflammatory strangulation of the injured parts, then to contend with
the local inflammation and fever which would result from the wound,
perhaps mortal! Now, what styptics, what antiphiogistics ought to be
employed? By what means could inflammation be prevented?

At any rate, the most important thing was that the two wounds should
be dressed without delay. It did not appear necessary to Gideon Spilett
that a fresh flow of blood should be caused by bathing them in tepid
water, and compressing their lips. The hemorrhage had been very
abundant, and Herbert was already too much enfeebled by the loss of
blood.

The reporter, therefore, thought it best to simply bathe the two wounds
with cold water.

Herbert was placed on his left side, and was maintained in that
position.

"He must not be moved." said Gideon Spilett. "He is in the most
favorable position for the wounds in his back and chest to suppurate
easily, and absolute rest is necessary."

"What! can't we carry him to Granite House?" asked Pencroft.

"No, Pencroft," replied the reporter.

"I'll pay the villains off!" cried the sailor, shaking his fist in a
menacing manner.

"Pencroft!" said Cyrus Harding.

Gideon Spilett had resumed his examination of the wounded boy. Herbert
was still so frightfully pale, that the reporter felt anxious.