Chapter XXXIV

So the convicts were close by, watching the corral, and waiting to kill the colonists one after another. Smith made his arrangements to live at the corral, which was fully provisioned. Ayrton’s house was furnished with all the necessaries of life.

Meanwhile the convicts, reduced to five, but well armed, were prowling in the woods.

“There is nothing else to do but wait,” said Smith. “When Herbert is well again, we will beat the island.”

“And we will search for our mysterious protector,” added Spilett.

Several days passed, and the poor boy’s condition was happily no worse. The cold water, always kept at the proper temperature, had absolutely prevented the inflammation of the wounds. Thanks to excellent nursing, Herbert had returned to consciousness, and his fever had abated. He was very weak; but he had plenty of broths and gruels, and absolute rest was doing him great good.

By the 22d of November, Herbert was decidedly better. He had begun to take some nourishment. The color came back to his cheeks. Herbert inquired about Ayrton, and was surprised not to see him at the bedside.

“And what about the pirates?” asked Herbert.

“My boy,” answered the sailor, “we will find them, and when you are well we will fight them.”

“I am still very weak, dear Pencroff.”

“Oh! Your strength will come back little by little.”

Herbert’s recovering progressed steadily. But since Ayrton’s disappearance, they were only four against five, for Herbert could not be counted. The poor boy knew and lamented the danger of which he was the cause.

Once or twice the reporter risked himself outside, and walked around the palisade. Top was with him, and his carbine was loaded. He met no one and saw nothing suspicious.

But on his second sortie, on the 27th of November, Spilett, who had ventured into the woods for a quarter of a mile to the south of the mountain, noticed that Top smelt something. Spilett followed the dog. It was a piece from a garment, dirty and torn. Spilett went back with it to the corral. There the colonists examined it and recognized it as a piece of Ayrton’s waistcoat.

“You see, Pencroff,” observed Smith, “Ayrton resisted manfully, and the convicts dragged him off.”

“Mr. Smith,” replied the sailor; “Ayrton was not killed at the corral, so perhaps he is still alive!”

“It may be so,” said the engineer thoughtfully.

It was now November 29th. The colonists were talking together in Herbert’s room, about 7 o’clock in the morning, when they heard Top barking loudly. Top ran to the bottom of the palisade, jumping and barking with joy.

“Someone is coming!”

“Yes.”

“And not an enemy.”

“Neb, perhaps?”

“Or Ayrton?”

Somebody leaped the palisade and fell on the ground inside. It was Jup!

“Neb has sent him!” said the reporter.

Pencroff rushed to the monkey. Around Jup’s neck was hung a little bag, and in it was a note. The colonists read these words:

Friday, 6 A. M. The convicts are on the plateau. Neb.

They looked at each other without saying a word, then walked back to the house. What was there to do? The convicts on Prospect Plateau meant disaster, devastation and ruin! When Herbert saw Jup, he understood that misfortune was threatening Granite House.

“Mr. Smith,” said he, “I want to go. I can bear the journey. I want to start.”

Spilett came up to Herbert and looked at him intently.

“Let us start then,” said he.

The wagon was brought; Smith and the reporter lifted the mattresses with Herbert on it. The weather was fine, and the sun shone brightly between the trees.

“How do you feel, Herbert?” asked the engineer.

“Don’t be troubled, Mr. Smith,” answered the boy. “I will not die on the way.”

“Let us start,” said Smith.

The corral door was opened. Jup and Top rushed on ahead. The wagon went out, the gate was shut. They were walking safely. Suddenly Pencroff stopped the wagon and cried, fiercely.

“Ah, the wretches!”

And he pointed to a thick smoke which curled up from the mill, the stables, and the buildings of the poultry-yard. In the midst of this smoke a man was running about. It was Neb.

Chapter XXXV

The presence of the convicts was a constant menace to the colonists. At present, however, all attempts to rid the island of the pirates were subject to the condition of Herbert.

The engineer and Neb saw a scene of desolation. Fields trampled; the harvest scattered; the stables and other buildings burned. Everything here will have to be done over again.

Herbert became more and more feeble. He was in a sort of stupor, and symptoms of delirium began to manifest themselves.

“We must have some quinine,” said Spilett.

He drew the engineer aside and said to him:

“It is a pernicious fever!”

“A pernicious fever!” cried Smith. “You must be mistaken, Spilett!”

“I am not mistaken,” replied the reporter.

“But the willow bark? Will it help?”

“It is insufficient. The disease is mortal!”

It was good that Pencroff had not heard this conversation.

The night was full of torture. In his delirium, Herbert wrestled with the convicts; he called Ayrton,

“If,” said the reporter, “before tomorrow morning we cannot give Herbert a powerful medicine, he will die.”

During the night Herbert became frightfully delirious. He recognized no one. His strength was exhausted. Towards 3 o’clock he uttered a frightful cry. He was seized by a terrible convulsion. At the same moment Top gave one of his strange barks.

All returned to the chamber and gathered round the dying lad. Five o’clock came. The sun’s rays shone into the chambers of Granite House. A sunbeam crept on to the table beside the bed. Suddenly Pencroff, uttering an exclamation, pointed to something on that table.

It was a small box, bearing these words:

SULPHATE OF QUININE.

Spilett took the box and opened it. It contained a white powder, which he tasted. Its extreme bitterness was unmistakable. It was necessary to administer it to Herbert without delay. How it came there could be discussed later.

Spilett called for some coffee, in which the reporter placed eighteen grains of quinine and gave the mixture to Herbert to drink. The quinine was administered to Herbert every three hours, and the next day the lad was certainly better.

Pencroff was beside himself with joy. He seized the reporter in his arms, and called him nothing but Doctor Spilett. But the true physician was still to be found.

“We will find him!” said the sailor.

Herbert’s bed was drawn close to the window. His appetite began to return. By the end of the month Herbert walked on the shore and over the plateau, and strengthened himself with sea-baths.

Chapter XXXVI

“I think the pirates will come to the corral, at last,” said Smith one morning.

“Why do you think so?” asked the reporter.

“Because that’s the only place on the island where they can live safely. Moreover, we left it, so it’s empty at the moment.”

“Let’s go the corral, then!” cried Pencrof. “We must destroy the convicts and find Ayrton, if he is still alive.”

“Forward!” said the engineer.

The wagon was ready on the bank. The reporter insisted on Herbert taking a seat in it, at least for the first few hours. Smith, the reporter, and the sailor went on ahead. Jup took a seat beside Herbert, and the little party started. In some hours they got there.

Spilett crept cautiously forward to the gate of the corral. They listened. No sound broke the silence. Soon the dangerous zone was crossed, and the wagon was drawn up beside the fence.

At this moment, Herbert, who had ventured some steps within the inclosure, rushed back and seized Smith’s hand.

“What have you seen?” asked the engineer.

“A light!”

“In the house?”

“Yes, sir.”

All went forward and saw a feeble ray of light trembling through the windows of the building.

“It is a fortunate chance! They are ours! Come on!”

The colonists glided into the enclosure. In a few moments they were before the closed door of the house. Smith approached the window. He looked into the one room which formed the lower story of the building. On the table was a lighted lantern, Nearby was Ayrton’s bed. On it was the body of a man.

“Ayrton!” cried Smith.

And, at once, the door was opened, and all rushed into the chamber. Ayrton seemed to be sleeping. His face showed marks of long and cruel suffering. His wrists and ankles were much bruised. Smith leaned over him.

“Ayrton!” cried the engineer.

Ayrton opened his eyes, and looked first at Smith, then at the others.

“You! Is it you?” he cried.

“Ayrton! Ayrton!” repeated the engineer.

“Where am I?”

“In the corral.”

“Am I alone?”

“Yes.”

“Then they will come here!” cried Ayrton. “Defend yourselves!”

And he fell back, fainting.

“Spilett,” said the engineer, “bring the wagon inside the enclosure, and bar the gate, and then come back here.”

They heard Top growling. The engineer, leaving Ayrton for a moment, left the house, and held his gun in readiness to fire. Herbert was beside him. Top continued to bark, and Jup, running towards the dog, uttered sharp cries.

The colonists, following him, came to the border of the little brook. And there, in the full moonlight, they saw five corpses upon the bank! They were the bodies of the convicts, who, four months before, had landed upon Lincoln Island.