The Mysterious Island (71 page)

Was it then in the depths of those barren gorges, in the midst of the
piles of rock, in the rugged northern ravines, among the streams of
lava, that this dwelling and its occupant would be found?

The northern part of Mount Franklin was at its base composed solely of
two valleys, wide, not very deep, without any appearance of vegetation,
strewn with masses of rock, paved with lava, and varied with great
blocks of mineral. This region required a long and careful exploration.
It contained a thousand cavities, comfortless no doubt, but perfectly
concealed and difficult of access.

The colonists even visited dark tunnels, dating from the volcanic
period, still black from the passage of the fire, and penetrated into
the depths of the mountain. They traversed these somber galleries,
waving lighted torches; they examined the smallest excavations; they
sounded the shallowest depths, but all was dark and silent. It did
not appear that the foot of man had ever before trodden these ancient
passages, or that his arm had ever displaced one of these blocks, which
remained as the volcano had cast them up above the waters, at the time
of the submersion of the island.

However, although these passages appeared to be absolutely deserted, and
the obscurity was complete, Cyrus Harding was obliged to confess that
absolute silence did not reign there.

On arriving at the end of one of these gloomy caverns, extending several
hundred feet into the interior of the mountain, he was surprised to hear
a deep rumbling noise, increased in intensity by the sonorousness of the
rocks.

Gideon Spilett, who accompanied him, also heard these distant
mutterings, which indicated a revivification of the subterranean fires.
Several times both listened, and they agreed that some chemical process
was taking place in the bowels of the earth.

"Then the volcano is not totally extinct?" said the reporter.

"It is possible that since our exploration of the crater," replied Cyrus
Harding, "some change has occurred. Any volcano, although considered
extinct, may evidently again burst forth."

"But if an eruption of Mount Franklin occurred," asked Spilett, "would
there not be some danger to Lincoln Island?"

"I do not think so," answered the reporter. "The crater, that is to
say, the safety-valve, exists, and the overflow of smoke and lava, would
escape, as it did formerly, by this customary outlet."

"Unless the lava opened a new way for itself towards the fertile parts
of the island!"

"And why, my dear Spilett," answered Cyrus Harding, "should it not
follow the road naturally traced out for it?"

"Well, volcanoes are capricious," returned the reporter.

"Notice," answered the engineer, "that the inclination of Mount Franklin
favors the flow of water towards the valleys which we are exploring just
now. To turn aside this flow, an earthquake would be necessary to change
the mountain's center of gravity."

"But an earthquake is always to be feared at these times," observed
Gideon Spilett.

"Always," replied the engineer, "especially when the subterranean forces
begin to awake, as they risk meeting with some obstruction, after a long
rest. Thus, my dear Spilett, an eruption would be a serious thing
for us, and it would be better that the volcano should not have the
slightest desire to wake up. But we could not prevent it, could we? At
any rate, even if it should occur, I do not think Prospect Heights would
be seriously threatened. Between them and the mountain, the ground
is considerably depressed, and if the lava should ever take a course
towards the lake, it would be cast on the downs and the neighboring
parts of Shark Gulf."

"We have not yet seen any smoke at the top of the mountain, to indicate
an approaching eruption," said Gideon Spilett.

"No," answered Harding, "not a vapor escapes from the crater, for it
was only yesterday that I attentively surveyed the summit. But it
is probable that at the lower part of the chimney, time may have
accumulated rocks, cinders, hardened lava, and that this valve of which
I spoke, may at any time become overcharged. But at the first serious
effort, every obstacle will disappear, and you may be certain, my dear
Spilett, that neither the island, which is the boiler, nor the
volcano, which is the chimney, will burst under the pressure of gas.
Nevertheless, I repeat, it would be better that there should not be an
eruption."

"And yet we are not mistaken," remarked the reporter. "Mutterings can be
distinctly heard in the very bowels of the volcano!"

"You are right," said the engineer, again listening attentively. "There
can be no doubt of it. A commotion is going on there, of which we can
neither estimate the importance nor the ultimate result."

Cyrus Harding and Spilett, on coming out, rejoined their companions, to
whom they made known the state of affairs.

"Very well!" cried Pencroft, "The volcano wants to play his pranks! Let
him try, if he likes! He will find his master!"

"Who?" asked Neb.

"Our good genius, Neb, our good genius, who will shut his mouth for him,
if he so much as pretends to open it!"

As may be seen, the sailor's confidence in the tutelary deity of his
island was absolute, and, certainly, the occult power, manifested until
now in so many inexplicable ways, appeared to be unlimited; but also it
knew how to escape the colonists' most minute researches, for, in
spite of all their efforts, in spite of the more than zeal,—the
obstinacy,—with which they carried on their exploration, the retreat of
the mysterious being could not be discovered.

From the 19th to the 20th of February the circle of investigation was
extended to all the northern region of Lincoln Island, whose most secret
nooks were explored. The colonists even went the length of tapping every
rock. The search was extended to the extreme verge of the mountain. It
was explored thus to the very summit of the truncated cone terminating
the first row of rocks, then to the upper ridge of the enormous hat, at
the bottom of which opened the crater.

They did more; they visited the gulf, now extinct, but in whose depths
the rumbling could be distinctly heard. However, no sign of smoke or
vapor, no heating of the rock, indicated an approaching eruption.
But neither there, nor in any other part of Mount Franklin, did the
colonists find any traces of him of whom they were in search.

Their investigations were then directed to the downs. They carefully
examined the high lava-cliffs of Shark Gulf from the base to the crest,
although it was extremely difficult to reach even the level of the gulf.
No one!—nothing!

Indeed, in these three words was summed up so much fatigue uselessly
expended, so much energy producing no results, that somewhat of anger
mingled with the discomfiture of Cyrus Harding and his companions.

It was now time to think of returning, for these researches could not be
prolonged indefinitely. The colonists were certainly right in believing
that the mysterious being did not reside on the surface of the island,
and the wildest fancies haunted their excited imaginations. Pencroft
and Neb, particularly, were not contented with the mystery, but allowed
their imaginations to wander into the domain of the supernatural.

On the 25th of February the colonists re-entered Granite House, and by
means of the double cord, carried by an arrow to the threshold of the
door, they re-established communication between their habitation and the
ground.

A month later they commemorated, on the 25th of March, the third
anniversary of their arrival on Lincoln Island.

Three years had passed away since the escape of the prisoners from
Richmond, and how often during those three years had they spoken of
their country, always present in their thoughts!

They had no doubt that the civil war was at an end, and to them it
appeared impossible that the just cause of the North had not triumphed.
But what had been the incidents of this terrible war? How much blood had
it not cost? How many of their friends must have fallen in the struggle?
They often spoke of these things, without as yet being able to foresee
the day when they would be permitted once more to see their country.
To return thither, were it but for a few days, to renew the social link
with the inhabited world, to establish a communication between their
native land and their island, then to pass the longest, perhaps the
best, portion of their existence in this colony, founded by them,
and which would then be dependent on their country, was this a dream
impossible to realize?

There were only two ways of accomplishing it—either a ship must appear
off Lincoln Island, or the colonists must themselves build a vessel
strong enough to sail to the nearest land.

"Unless," said Pencroft, "our good genius, himself provides us with the
means of returning to our country."

And, really, had any one told Pencroft and Neb that a ship of 300 tons
was waiting for them in Shark Gulf or at Port Balloon, they would not
even have made a gesture of surprise. In their state of mind nothing
appeared improbable.

But Cyrus Harding, less confident, advised them to confine themselves to
fact, and more especially so with regard to the building of a vessel—a
really urgent work, since it was for the purpose of depositing, as
soon as possible, at Tabor Island a document indicating Ayrton's new
residence.

As the "Bonadventure" no longer existed, six months at least would
be required for the construction of a new vessel. Now winter was
approaching, and the voyage would not be made before the following
spring.

"We have time to get everything ready for the fine season," remarked
the engineer, who was consulting with Pencroft about these matters. "I
think, therefore, my friend, that since we have to rebuild our vessel
it will be best to give her larger dimensions. The arrival of the Scotch
yacht at Tabor Island is very uncertain. It may even be that, having
arrived several months ago, she has again sailed after having vainly
searched for some trace of Ayrton. Will it not then be best to build
a ship which, if necessary, could take us either to the Polynesian
Archipelago or to New Zealand? What do you think?"

"I think, captain," answered the sailor; "I think that you are as
capable of building a large vessel as a small one. Neither the wood nor
the tools are wanting. It is only a question of time."

"And how many months would be required to build a vessel of from 250 to
300 tons?" asked Harding.

"Seven or eight months at least," replied Pencroft. "But it must not be
forgotten that winter is drawing near, and that in severe frost wood is
difficult to work. We must calculate on several weeks delay, and if our
vessel is ready by next November we may think ourselves very lucky."

"Well," replied Cyrus Harding, "that will be exactly the most favorable
time for undertaking a voyage of any importance, either to Tabor Island
or to a more distant land."

"So it will, captain," answered the sailor. "Make out your plans then;
the workmen are ready, and I imagine that Ayrton can lend us a good
helping hand."

The colonists, having been consulted, approved the engineer's plan,
and it was, indeed, the best thing to be done. It is true that the
construction of a ship of from two to three hundred tons would be great
labor, but the colonists had confidence in themselves, justified by
their previous success.

Cyrus Harding then busied himself in drawing the plan of the vessel and
making the model. During this time his companions employed themselves in
felling and carting trees to furnish the ribs, timbers, and planks.
The forest of the Far West supplied the best oaks and elms. They took
advantage of the opening already made on their last excursion to form a
practicable road, which they named the Far West Road, and the trees were
carried to the Chimneys, where the dockyard was established. As to
the road in question, the choice of trees had rendered its direction
somewhat capricious, but at the same time it facilitated the access to a
large part of the Serpentine Peninsula.

It was important that the trees should be quickly felled and cut up, for
they could not be used while yet green, and some time was necessary to
allow them to get seasoned. The carpenters, therefore, worked vigorously
during the month of April, which was troubled only by a few equinoctial
gales of some violence. Master Jup aided them dexterously, either by
climbing to the top of a tree to fasten the ropes or by lending his
stout shoulders to carry the lopped trunks.

All this timber was piled up under a large shed, built near the
Chimneys, and there awaited the time for use.

The month of April was tolerably fine, as October often is in the
northern zone. At the same time other work was actively continued, and
soon all trace of devastation disappeared from the plateau of
Prospect Heights. The mill was rebuilt, and new buildings rose in the
poultry-yard. It had appeared necessary to enlarge their dimensions,
for the feathered population had increased considerably. The stable
now contained five onagers, four of which were well broken, and allowed
themselves to be either driven or ridden, and a little colt. The colony
now possessed a plow, to which the onagers were yoked like regular
Yorkshire or Kentucky oxen. The colonists divided their work, and their
arms never tired. Then who could have enjoyed better health than these
workers, and what good humor enlivened the evenings in Granite House as
they formed a thousand plans for the future!

As a matter of course Ayrton shared the common lot in every respect,
and there was no longer any talk of his going to live at the corral.
Nevertheless he was still sad and reserved, and joined more in the work
than in the pleasures of his companions. But he was a valuable workman
at need—strong, skilful, ingenious, intelligent. He was esteemed and
loved by all, and he could not be ignorant of it.