The Mysterious Island (67 page)

It was, therefore, possible to prevent them, but any enterprise to clear
the island was now rendered difficult by reason of Herbert's condition.
Indeed, their whole force would have been barely sufficient to cope with
the convicts, and just now no one could leave Granite House.

The engineer and Neb arrived on the plateau. Desolation reigned
everywhere. The fields had been trampled over; the ears of wheat, which
were nearly full-grown, lay on the ground. The other plantations had not
suffered less.

The kitchen-garden was destroyed. Happily, Granite House possessed a
store of seed which would enable them to repair these misfortunes.

As to the wall and buildings of the poultry-yard and the onagers stable,
the fire had destroyed all. A few terrified creatures roamed over the
plateau. The birds, which during the fire had taken refuge on the waters
of the lake, had already returned to their accustomed spot, and were
dabbling on the banks. Everything would have to be reconstructed.

Cyrus Harding's face, which was paler than usual, expressed an internal
anger which he commanded with difficulty, but he did not utter a word.
Once more he looked at his devastated fields, and at the smoke which
still rose from the ruins, then he returned to Granite House.

The following days were the saddest of any that the colonists had passed
on the island! Herbert's weakness visibly increased. It appeared that
a more serious malady, the consequence of the profound physiological
disturbance he had gone through, threatened to declare itself, and
Gideon Spilett feared such an aggravation of his condition that he would
be powerless to fight against it!

In fact, Herbert remained in an almost continuous state of drowsiness,
and symptoms of delirium began to manifest themselves. Refreshing drinks
were the only remedies at the colonists' disposal. The fever was not
as yet very high, but it soon appeared that it would probably recur at
regular intervals. Gideon Spilett first recognized this on the 6th of
December.

The poor boy, whose fingers, nose, and ears had become extremely
pale, was at first seized with slight shiverings, horripilations, and
tremblings. His pulse was weak and irregular, his skin dry, his thirst
intense. To this soon succeeded a hot fit; his face became flushed; his
skin reddened; his pulse quick; then a profuse perspiration broke out
after which the fever seemed to diminish. The attack had lasted nearly
five hours.

Gideon Spilett had not left Herbert, who, it was only too certain, was
now seized by an intermittent fever, and this fever must be cured at any
cost before it should assume a more serious aspect.

"And in order to cure it," said Spilett to Cyrus Harding, "we need a
febrifuge."

"A febrifuge—" answered the engineer. "We have neither Peruvian bark,
nor sulphate of quinine."

"No," said Gideon Spilett, "but there are willows on the border of
the lake, and the bark of the willow might, perhaps, prove to be a
substitute for quinine."

"Let us try it without losing a moment," replied Cyrus Harding.

The bark of the willow has, indeed, been justly considered as a
succedaneum for Peruvian bark, as has also that of the horse-chestnut
tree, the leaf of the holly, the snake-root, etc. It was evidently
necessary to make trial of this substance, although not so valuable as
Peruvian bark, and to employ it in its natural state, since they had no
means for extracting its essence.

Cyrus Harding went himself to cut from the trunk of a species of black
willow, a few pieces of bark; he brought them back to Granite House, and
reduced them to a powder, which was administered that same evening to
Herbert.

The night passed without any important change. Herbert was somewhat
delirious, but the fever did not reappear in the night, and did not
return either during the following day.

Pencroft again began to hope. Gideon Spilett said nothing. It might be
that the fever was not quotidian, but tertian, and that it would return
next day. Therefore, he awaited the next day with the greatest anxiety.

It might have been remarked besides that during this period Herbert
remained utterly prostrate, his head weak and giddy. Another symptom
alarmed the reporter to the highest degree. Herbert's liver became
congested, and soon a more intense delirium showed that his brain was
also affected.

Gideon Spilett was overwhelmed by this new complication. He took the
engineer aside.

"It is a malignant fever," said he.

"A malignant fever!" cried Harding. "You are mistaken, Spilett. A
malignant fever does not declare itself spontaneously; its germ must
previously have existed."

"I am not mistaken," replied the reporter. "Herbert no doubt contracted
the germ of this fever in the marshes of the island. He has already had
one attack; should a second come on and should we not be able to prevent
a third, he is lost."

"But the willow bark?"

"That is insufficient," answered the reporter, "and the third attack of
a malignant fever, which is not arrested by means of quinine, is always
fatal."

Fortunately, Pencroft heard nothing of this conversation or he would
have gone mad.

It may be imagined what anxiety the engineer and the reporter suffered
during the day of the 7th of December and the following night.

Towards the middle of the day the second attack came on. The crisis was
terrible. Herbert felt himself sinking. He stretched his arms towards
Cyrus Harding, towards Spilett, towards Pencroft. He was so young to
die! The scene was heart-rending. They were obliged to send Pencroft
away.

The fit lasted five hours. It was evident that Herbert could not survive
a third.

The night was frightful. In his delirium Herbert uttered words which
went to the hearts of his companions. He struggled with the convicts,
he called to Ayrton, he poured forth entreaties to that mysterious
being,—that powerful unknown protector,—whose image was stamped upon
his mind; then he again fell into a deep exhaustion which completely
prostrated him. Several times Gideon Spilett thought that the poor boy
was dead.

The next day, the 8th of December, was but a succession of the fainting
fits. Herbert's thin hands clutched the sheets. They had administered
further doses of pounded bark, but the reporter expected no result from
it.

"If before tomorrow morning we have not given him a more energetic
febrifuge," said the reporter, "Herbert will be dead."

Night arrived—the last night, it was too much to be feared, of the
good, brave, intelligent boy, so far in advance of his years, and who
was loved by all as their own child. The only remedy which existed
against this terrible malignant fever, the only specific which could
overcome it, was not to be found in Lincoln Island.

During the night of the 8th of December, Herbert was seized by a more
violent delirium. His liver was fearfully congested, his brain affected,
and already it was impossible for him to recognize any one.

Would he live until the next day, until that third attack which
must infallibly carry him off? It was not probable. His strength was
exhausted, and in the intervals of fever he lay as one dead.

Towards three o'clock in the morning Herbert uttered a piercing cry.
He seemed to be torn by a supreme convulsion. Neb, who was near him,
terrified, ran into the next room where his companions were watching.

Top, at that moment, barked in a strange manner.

All rushed in immediately and managed to restrain the dying boy, who was
endeavoring to throw himself out of his bed, while Spilett, taking his
arm, felt his pulse gradually quicken.

It was five in the morning. The rays of the rising sun began to shine in
at the windows of Granite House. It promised to be a fine day, and this
day was to be poor Herbert's last!

A ray glanced on the table placed near the bed.

Suddenly Pencroft, uttering a cry, pointed to the table.

On it lay a little oblong box, of which the cover bore these
words:—"SULPHATE OF QUININE."

Gideon Spilett took the box and opened it. It contained nearly two
hundred grains of a white powder, a few particles of which he carried to
his lips. The extreme bitterness of the substance precluded all doubt;
it was certainly the precious extract of quinine, that pre-eminent
antifebrile.

This powder must be administered to Herbert without delay. How it came
there might be discussed later.

"Some coffee!" said Spilett.

In a few moments Neb brought a cup of the warm infusion. Gideon Spilett
threw into it about eighteen grains of quinine, and they succeeded in
making Herbert drink the mixture.

There was still time, for the third attack of the malignant fever had
not yet shown itself. How they longed to be able to add that it would
not return!

Besides, it must be remarked, the hopes of all had now revived. The
mysterious influence had been again exerted, and in a critical moment,
when they had despaired of it.

In a few hours Herbert was much calmer. The colonists could now discuss
this incident. The intervention of the stranger was more evident than
ever. But how had he been able to penetrate during the night into
Granite House? It was inexplicable, and, in truth, the proceedings of
the genius of the island were not less mysterious than was that genius
himself. During this day the sulphate of quinine was administered to
Herbert every three hours.

The next day some improvement in Herbert's condition was apparent.
Certainly, he was not out of danger, intermittent fevers being subject
to frequent and dangerous relapses, but the most assiduous care was
bestowed on him. And besides, the specific was at hand; nor, doubtless,
was he who had brought it far distant! And the hearts of all were
animated by returning hope.

This hope was not disappointed. Ten days after, on the 20th of December,
Herbert's convalescence commenced.

He was still weak, and strict diet had been imposed upon him, but no
access of fever supervened. And then, the poor boy submitted with such
docility to all the prescriptions ordered him! He longed so to get well!

Pencroft was as a man who has been drawn up from the bottom of an abyss.
Fits of joy approaching delirium seized him. When the time for the third
attack had passed by, he nearly suffocated the reporter in his embrace.
Since then, he always called him Dr. Spilett.

The real doctor, however, remained undiscovered.

"We will find him!" repeated the sailor.

Certainly, this man, whoever he was, might expect a somewhat too
energetic embrace from the worthy Pencroft!

The month of December ended, and with it the year 1867, during which
the colonists of Lincoln Island had of late been so severely tried.
They commenced the year 1868 with magnificent weather, great heat, and
a tropical temperature, delightfully cooled by the sea-breeze. Herbert's
recovery progressed, and from his bed, placed near one of the windows of
Granite House, he could inhale the fresh air, charged with ozone, which
could not fail to restore his health. His appetite returned, and what
numberless delicate, savory little dishes Neb prepared for him!

"It is enough to make one wish to have a fever oneself!" said Pencroft.

During all this time, the convicts did not once appear in the vicinity
of Granite House. There was no news of Ayrton, and though the engineer
and Herbert still had some hopes of finding him again, their companions
did not doubt but that the unfortunate man had perished. However, this
uncertainty could not last, and when once the lad should have recovered,
the expedition, the result of which must be so important, would be
undertaken. But they would have to wait a month, perhaps, for all
the strength of the colony must be put into requisition to obtain
satisfaction from the convicts.

However, Herbert's convalescence progressed rapidly. The congestion of
the liver had disappeared, and his wounds might be considered completely
healed.

During the month of January, important work was done on the plateau
of Prospect Heights; but it consisted solely in saving as much as was
possible from the devastated crops, either of corn or vegetables. The
grain and the plants were gathered, so as to provide a new harvest for
the approaching half-season. With regard to rebuilding the poultry-yard,
wall, or stables, Cyrus Harding preferred to wait. While he and his
companions were in pursuit of the convicts, the latter might very
probably pay another visit to the plateau, and it would be useless to
give them an opportunity of recommencing their work of destruction. When
the island should be cleared of these miscreants, they would set about
rebuilding. The young convalescent began to get up in the second week of
January, at first for one hour a day, then two, then three. His strength
visibly returned, so vigorous was his constitution. He was now eighteen
years of age. He was tall, and promised to become a man of noble and
commanding presence. From this time his recovery, while still requiring
care,—and Dr. Spilett was very strict,—made rapid progress. Towards
the end of the month, Herbert was already walking about on Prospect
Heights, and the beach.

He derived, from several sea-baths, which he took in company with
Pencroft and Neb, the greatest possible benefit. Cyrus Harding thought
he might now settle the day for their departure, for which the 15th of
February was fixed. The nights, very clear at this time of year, would
be favorable to the researches they intended to make all over the
island.

The necessary preparations for this exploration were now commenced, and
were important, for the colonists had sworn not to return to Granite
House until their twofold object had been achieved; on the one hand, to
exterminate the convicts, and rescue Ayrton, if he was still living; on
the other, to discover who it was that presided so effectually over the
fortunes of the colony.