Chapter VIII

Neb did not move. The sailor uttered one word.

“Alive?” he cried.

Neb did not answer. Spilett and Pencroff turned pale. Herbert stood motionless. But it was evident that the poor servant, overcome by grief, had not heard the voice of the sailor.

The reporter knelt down beside the motionless body, and pressed his ear to the chest of the engineer. Then he tried to detect some movement of the heart.

Neb was hardly recognizable. He believed his master dead. Gideon Spilett, however, after a long and attentive examination, rose up.

“He lives!” he said.

Pencroff, in his turn, knelt down beside Cyrus Smith; he also detected some heartbeats. Herbert hurried in search of water. A hundred paces off he found a clear brook; so the lad soaked his handkerchief in the stream, and hastened back with it to the cave.

The drops of fresh water produced an instantaneous effect. A sigh escaped from the breast of Smith.

“We will save him,” said the reporter.

Neb removed the clothing from his master to see if his body was wounded anywhere. But neither on his head nor body nor limbs was there a bruise or even a scratch. That was an astonishing circumstance.

“You thought he was dead?” asked the sailor Neb.

“Yes, I thought so,” answered Neb. “And if Top had not found you and brought you back, I would have buried my master and died beside him.”

Then Neb told them what had happened. The day before, Neb had followed along the coast in a direction due north, until he reached that part of the beach. There he searched the shore, the rocks, the sand for any marks that could guide him. He did not hope to find his master living. Then he decided to continue some miles further up the coast. It was possible that the currents had carried the body to some distant point. He followed the shore two miles further, hardly hoping to find anything, when yesterday evening, about 5 o’clock, he discovered footprints upon the sand.

“Footprints?!” cried Pencroff.

“Yes, sir,” replied Neb.

“And did they begin at the water?” demanded the reporter.

“No,” answered Neb, “above high-water mark; below that the tide had washed out the others. The sight of these footprints made me wild with joy. They went towards the downs. I followed them for a quarter of an hour. Five minutes later, as it was growing dark, I heard a dog bark. It was Top. And he brought me here, to my master.”

“So you, Neb,” said the reporter, “did not bring your master to this place?”

“No, it was not I,” answered Neb.

They must wait for the solution of the mystery until the engineer could speak. It was therefore the unanimous opinion that Cyrus Smith must be carried to the Chimneys as soon as possible.

Soon the engineer opened his eyes. Neb and the reporter were leaning over him.

“My master! My master!” cried Neb.

The engineer heard him. He recognized Neb and his companions.

“Is it an island or a continent?” he murmured.

“What the devil do we care,” cried Pencroff, unable to restrain the exclamation, “now that you are alive, sir. Island or continent? We will find that out later.”

The engineer seemed to sleep. The sailor was repeating:

“Island or continent! To think of that! What a man!”

Pencroff and his companions constructed a litter, which they covered with leaves and grass. This work occupied some little time, and it was 10 o’clock when the three returned to Smith and Spilett.

The engineer had just wakened from the sleep. The color had come back to his lips. He raised himself slightly, and looked about.

“Well,” said the sailor, “Mr. Smith, your litter is ready, and we will carry you to our house.”

“Thanks, my friend,” replied the engineer. “In an hour or two we will go.”

The reporter related everything that had happened.

“But,” asked Smith, in a feeble voice, “You did not pick me up on the beach?”

“No,” replied the reporter.

“And it was not you who brought me to this hollow?”

“No.”

“How far is this place from the reef?”

“At least half a mile,” replied Pencroff. “And we are very surprised to find you here. But cannot you remember anything that happened after you were washed away by the sea?”

Cyrus Smith tried to think, but he remembered little. The wave had swept him from the net of the balloon. Then Top had sprung to his rescue. Smith found himself in the midst of the tumultuous sea, more than half a mile from shore. He swum vigorously against the waves, and Top sustained him by his garments; but a strong current seized him, carrying him to the north, and, after struggling for half an hour, he sank, dragging the dog with him into the abyss. From that moment he remembered nothing.

“It’s strange,” said the reporter. “If someone had rescued you from the waves, why should he then have abandoned you?”

“That is inexplicable.”

Towards noon, Pencroff asked Smith if he felt strong enough to be carried. Eight miles had to be travelled, and the wind was still strong, but, fortunately, it had ceased raining. At half past 5 the little party reached the Chimneys.

Chapter IX

The engineer had sunk into a lethargy, the result of the journey. First of all, Cyrus Smith was carried into the main corridor. There they were able to make for him a couch of seaweeds.

The supper that evening consisted of the lithodomes, which Herbert and Neb had gathered from the beach.

The next day, the 28th of March, when the engineer awoke at about 8 o’clock, he saw his companions beside him, and, as on the day before, his first words were “Island or continent?”

It was his one thought.

“Well, Mr. Smith,” answered Pencroff, “we don’t know.”

“You haven’t found out yet?”

“But we will,” affirmed Pencroff, “when you are able to guide us in this country.”

“I believe that I am able to do that now,” answered the engineer, who, without much effort, rose up.

“That is good,” exclaimed the sailor.

“When you were carrying me here yesterday, did I not see a mountain rising in the west?”

“Yes,” said Spilett, “quite a high one.”

“All right,” exclaimed the engineer. “Tomorrow we will climb to its summit and determine whether this is an island or a continent.”

“But,” asked Spilett, “whether it is a continent or an island, where do you think this storm has thrown us, Cyrus?”

“In truth, I cannot say,” replied the engineer, “but the probability is that we are somewhere in the Pacific. When we left Richmond the wind was northeast, and its very violence proves that its direction did not vary much. We crossed North and South Carolina, Georgia, the Gulf of Mexico, and the narrow part of Mexico, and a portion of the Pacific Ocean. I do not estimate the distance traversed by the balloon at less than 6,000 or 7,000 miles. But if this coast belongs to some barren island in the Micronesian Archipelago, perhaps we will never leave it.

“Never?” cried the reporter. “Do you say “never”, my dear Cyrus?”

“We will know how to act when we first ascend the mountain,” answered Smith.

“But will you be able, Mr. Smith, to make the climb tomorrow?” asked Herbert.

“I hope so,” answered the engineer, “if Pencroff and you, my boy, show yourselves to be good hunters.”

Chapter X

The three hunters were seated before a sparkling fire. Beside them sat Cyrus Smith and the reporter.

“Yes, my good fellow,” said the reporter, “a fire, a real fire!”

“But who lighted it?” said the sailor.

“The sun.”

The sailor could not believe his eyes.

“Do you have a burning-glass, sir?” asked Herbert of Cyrus Smith.

“No, my boy,” said he, “but I made one.”

And he showed his lens. It was simply the two glasses, from his own watch and the reporter’s, which he had taken out, filled with water, and stuck together at the edges with a little clay. Thus he had made a veritable burning-glass, and by concentrating the solar rays on some dry moss had set it on fire.

With the help of Neb, the sailor arranged the spit. The engineer and his companion had made good use of their day. Smith had almost entirely recovered his strength. They had a pleasant supper. The engineer said little; he was planning for the next day. After supper, the party lay down to sleep. The morning found them fresh and eager for the expedition.

Everything was ready. At half past 7 they left the Chimneys, each with a stout cudgel. By Pencroff’s advice, they took the route of the previous day, which was the shortest way to the mountain. They turned the southern angle, and followed the left bank of the river. They took the path under the evergreens, and soon reached the northern border of the forest. The soil was flat and swampy, then dry and sandy. Among the trees appeared a few animals. The engineer was going straight for the top of the mountain.

The mountain was composed of two cones. The first was truncated about 2,500 feet up, and supported by fantastic spurs. Between these spurs were narrow valleys. On the northeast side of the mountain, vegetation was scanty.

On the first cone lay the second one, slightly rounded towards the summit. The surface seemed utterly bare. The object of the expedition was to reach the top of this cone, and their best way was along the edge of the spurs.

“We are in a volcanic country,” said Cyrus Smith, as they began to climb, little by little, up the side of the spurs. They were gradually ascending. At noon, when the little company halted to dine at the foot of a great clump of firs, they were still half way from the first plateau, and could hardly reach it before nightfall. From this point the sea stretched broad beneath their feet. On the left they could see directly north for several miles; but the northwest was concealed from them.

At 1 o’clock, the ascent again began. The easiest route slanted upwards towards the southwest, through the thick copse. Leaving the copse, the climbers ascended for a hundred feet up a very steep hill, and reached a terrace, almost bare of trees, whose soil was evidently volcanic. From hence, their course was a zigzag towards the east. Neb and Herbert led the way, then came Smith and the reporter; Pencroff was last.

They had come across large animals, with thick horns, curved backwards and flattened at the end, and with woolly fleece. They were not the common sheep. Their name, according to Herbert, was а Moufflon.

As the ascension continued, the traces of lava were more frequent, and little sulphur springs intercepted their route. As they neared the first plateau, formed by the truncation of the lower cone, the ascent became very difficult. By 4 o’clock the last belt of trees had been passed. Fortunately for the engineer and his party, it was a pleasant, mild day. The sky overhead was extremely bright and clear. A perfect calm reigned around them. The sun was hidden by the upper mountain, which cast its shadow westward to the edge of the sea.

There were only 500 feet between the explorers and the plateau where they meant to encamp for the night. Little by little the evening set in, and it was almost night when the party, tired out by a seven hours’ climb, arrived at the top of the first cone.

Now they must pitch their camp, and think of supper and sleep. The sailor built up a fireplace with huge stones, while Neb and Herbert went after the combustibles. They soon came back with a load of thistles.

The night was beautiful and still; and not yet very dark. They walked together in silence. Sometimes the plateau was wide and easy, sometimes very encumbered with rubbish. There were yet 1,000 feet to climb. Fortunately, the long and sinuous declivities described a winding staircase, and greatly helped their ascent. The volcano was not only quiet, but extinct.

It was nearly 8 o’clock when they set foot on the summit of the cone. The darkness was by this time complete, and they could hardly see a couple of miles around them. Was the land an island, or the eastern extremity of a continent? They could not yet discover. At one point of the horizon suddenly appeared a vague light, which slowly sank as the clouds mounted to the zenith. The line of the horizon was now cloudless, and as the moon touched it, the engineer seized the boy’s hand.

“An island!” said he.