 CHAPTER VI It would have been difficult to find better quarters than those provided by this cave. The various recesses hollowed out inside it made capital separate rooms. It was a trifling disadvantage that these recesses which were referring depth were rather dark during the day, and that the cave itself was never very light, for except in bad weather it would only be occupied at night. At earliest dawn Captain Gould would be carried outside to drink in the salt invigorating air and bask in the sunshine. Inside the cave Jenny arranged to occupy one of the recesses with her husband. A larger one, sufficient to accommodate all three of them, was taken possession of by James Wollstone and his wife and little Bob. Frank contented himself with a corner in the large hall where he shared the company of the skipper and the boson. The remainder of the day was given up entirely to rest, the boat's passengers had to recuperate after the many emotions of this last week and the awful trial they had endured so bravely. Wisdom dictated their resolution to spend a fortnight in this bay where material existence seemed to be secured for some time to come. Even if the Captain's condition had not required that they do so, John Block would not have advised an immediate departure. In the evening, after a second meal of turtle soup and turtle flesh and eggs, Frank led them in prayer and all went into the cave. Captain Gould, thanks to the ministrations of Jenny and Dolly, was no longer shaking with fever. His wound now closing gave him less pain. He was progressing rapidly towards complete recovery. To keep a watch during the night was needless. There was nothing to fear on this lonely shore, neither savages nor wild beasts. It was unlikely that these gloomy and depressing wastes had ever been visited by man before. The stillness was only broken by the harsh and melancholy cry of the seabirds as they came home to their crannies in the cliff. The breeze died gradually away and not a breath of air stirred till the rising of the sun. The men were out at daybreak. First of all, John Block went down the beach along the promontory and made for the boat. It was still floating, but would soon be left high and dry by the abbey tide. Being fastened by horses on both sides, it had not bumped against the rocks even when the tide was at its highest, and as long as the wind continued to blow from the east, it could not come to harm. In the event of the wind veering to the south, they would see if it was necessary to look for other moorings. Meanwhile, the weather seemed to be definitely set fair, and this was the fine season. When he got back, the Boson sought out Fritz and spoke to him about this. It's worth giving a little thought to, he said, our boat comes before everything else. A snug cave is fine, but one doesn't go to sea in a cave, and when the time comes for us to leave, if it ever does come, it's important that we shouldn't be prevented from doing so. Of course, Block, Fritz answered, we will take every possible care to prevent the boat coming to harm. Do you think perhaps there is a better mooring for her on the other side of the promontory? We'll see, sir, and since everything is all right on this side, I will go round to the other and hunt turtles. Will you come with me? No, Block. Go alone. I'm going back to the captain. This last good night's rest must have reduced the fever. When he wakes, he will want to discuss the situation. I must be there to tell him all that has happened. You're right, Mr. Fritz, and mind you tell him that there is nothing to be uneasy about at present. The Boson went to the far end of the promontory and sprang from rock to rock across the creek towards the place where he and Frank had come upon the turtles the day before. Fritz returned to the cave, up to which Frank and James were busy bringing armfuls of seaweed. Mrs. Wollstone was dressing little Bob. Jenny and Dolly were still with the captain. In the corner of the promontory the fire crackled under the stove, and the kettle began to boil, white steam escaping from its spout. When Fritz had finished his conversation with the captain, he and Jenny went down to the beach. They walked a little way and then turned back under the lofty cliff which enclosed them like a prison wall. Fritz spoke in tones of deeper motion. Dear wife, I must talk to you of what is in my heart. I can see you with me in the canoe after I had found you upon the burning rock, and then our meeting with the penis and our return to rock-castle with all the others. Two happy years slipped by with nothing to mar their quiet happiness. You were the joy and charm of our circle. We were so accustomed to life under those conditions that it seemed as if there were no world outside our island. If it had not been for the thought of your father, perhaps we should not have sailed on the unicorn. Perhaps we should never have left New Switzerland. Why do you talk now of this, Fritz, dear? said Jenny, greatly moved. I want to tell you how heavy my heart has been since ill fortune has set in upon us. Yes, I am full of remorse at having brought you to share it with me. You must not fear ill fortune, Jenny answered. A man of your courage, your energy, will not give away to despair, Fritz. Let me finish, Jenny. One day the unicorn arrived over there off New Switzerland. She went away again and took us to Europe, and from that moment Miss Fortune has never ceased to strike you. Colonel Montrose died before he could see his child. Poor father, said Jenny, her eyes wet. Yes, that happiness was withheld from him of clasping me in his arms and rewarding my rescuer by placing my hand in his. But God willed otherwise, and we must submit. Well, Jenny, dear, Fritz went on. At all events you were there, back in England, you had seen your own land again, you might have remained there with your own people, and found quiet happiness. Happiness without you, Fritz? And then, Jenny, you would not have incurred fresh dangers, after all those which you had escaped so miraculously, yet you consented to follow me back to our island again. Do you forget that I am your wife, Fritz? Could I have hesitated to leave Europe, to rejoin all those whom I love, your family, which is mine henceforward? But, Jenny, Jenny, that does not make it less true that I drew you into fresh danger, and danger that I cannot think of without panic. Our present situation is desperate. Oh, those mutiners who called it all, who cast us adrift, and you, shipwrecked once in the Dorcas, now cast again upon an unknown island, even less habitable than burning rock. But I am not alone. I have you, and Frank, and our friends, brave and determined men. Fritz, I shrink from no dangers present or to come. I know that you will do everything possible for our safety. Everything, my darling, Fritz exclaimed. But though the thought that you are there must double my courage, yet it also grieves me so much that I want to throw myself at your knees and beg for your forgiveness, it is my fault that Fritz, she answered, clinging to him. No one could possibly have foreseen the things which have happened, the mutiny and our being cast adrift at sea. Far better forget the ill-fortune and contemplate only the good. We might have been murdered by the crew of the flag, or doomed the tortures of hunger and thirst in the boat. We might have perished in some storm, but instead we have reached a land which is not quite without resources, which at least gives us shelter. If we do not know what land it is, we must try to find out, and we will leave it if we find that we must. To go, wither, my poor Jenny. Somewhere else, as our dear Boatson would say, to go wherever God wills that we shall. My dear wife, Fritz exclaimed, you have given me back my courage. Yes, we must fight on. We will not give way to despair. We will think of the precious lives that are confided to our care. We will save them. We will save them with the help of God. On whom we never call in vain, said Frank, who had overheard the last word spoken by his brother. Let us keep our trust in him, and he will not forsake us. Under Jenny's encouragement Fritz recovered all his energy. His companions were as ready as he was to spend themselves in superhuman efforts. About ten o'clock, as the weather was fine, Captain Gould was able to come and stretch himself in the sun at the far end of the promontory. The Boatson returned from his trip round the creek, as far as the foot of the bluff to the east. Beyond that it was impossible to go. Even at low tide it would have been useless to attempt to get round the foot of this huge rock, about which the surf beat violently. John Block had been joined by James in the creek, and both brought back turtles and eggs. These cellonies swarmed upon the shore. In anticipation of an early departure it would be possible to lay in a large stock of their flesh which would secure a supply of food for the passengers. After luncheon the men talked, while Jenny, Polly, and Susan visit themselves washing the spare linen in the fresh water of the stream. It would dry quickly in the sun, for the day was hot. Afterwards all the clothes were to be mended, so that everybody might be ready to go aboard the boat again. Directly it should be decided to make a start. They had important questions to answer. What was the geographical position of this land? Was it possible to ascertain it without instruments, within a few degrees, taking the position of the sun noon as a basis for calculation? Such an observation could not be absolutely accurate. But today it seemed to confirm the opinion, already advanced by Captain Gould, that this land must lie between the fortieth and thirtieth parallels. What Meridian crossed it from north to south there were no means of ascertaining, although the flag must have been somewhere in the western waters of the Pacific Ocean. Then the idea of reaching the upper plateau came up again. Pending the recovery of the captain, was it not necessary to find out whether the boat had come ashore on a continent, an island, or a mere islet? As the cliff was seven or eight hundred feet high, it was quite possible that some other land might be visible a few miles out to sea. So Fritz and Frank and the Boson made up their minds to climb to the top of the cliff. Several days passed without bringing any change in the situation. Everyone realised the necessity of escaping from it somehow or other, and all was seriously afraid that it might become worse. The weather remained fine, the heat was great, but there was no thunder. On several occasions John Block and Fritz and Frank had walked round the bay from the western bastion as far as the bluff. In vain they looked for a gorge or less precipitous slope by which they might gain the plateau above. The wall rose sheer. Meanwhile the captain approached complete recovery. His wound was healed, though it was still bandaged. The attacks of fever had become more and more rare and had now ceased. His strength was coming back slowly, but he could now walk unsupported. He was always talking to Fritz and the Boson of the chances of another voyage in the boat northward. On the morning of the 25th he was able to go as far as the foot of the bluff and agreed that it was impossible to walk round the base of it. Fritz, who had accompanied him with Frank and John Block, offered to dive into the sea and so get to the shore beyond. But although he was an excellent swimmer, there was such a current running at the foot of the bluff that the captain was obliged to order the young man not to put this dangerous idea into execution. Once born away by the current, who could say Fritz could have got back to the shore? No, said Captain Gould, it would be rash, and there is no good in running into danger. We will go in the boat to reconnoiter that part of the coast, and if we go a few cables length out we shall be able to get a more extended view of it. Unfortunately, I am very much afraid that it will be found to be as barren everywhere as it is here. You mean that we are on some Islet? Frank remarked. There is reason to suppose so, the captain replied. Very well, said Fritz, but does it follow that this Islet is an isolated point? Why should it not be part of some group of islands lying to the north, east or west? What group, my dear Fritz, the captain retorted, if, as everything goes to show, we are in Australian or New Zealand waters here, there is no group of islands in this part of the Pacific. Because the charts don't show any, does it follow that there aren't any? Fritz remarked. The position of New Switzerland was not known, and yet? Quite true, Harry Gould replied. That was because it lies outside the track of shipping. Very seldom, practically never, do ships cross that bit of the Indian Ocean where it is situated, whereas to the south of Australia the seas are very busy, and no island or group of any size could possibly have escaped the notice of navigators. There is still the possibility that we are somewhere near Australia, Frank went on. A distinct possibility, the captain answered, and I should not be surprised if we are at its southwest extremity, somewhere near Cape Liven. In that case we should have to fear the ferocious Australian natives. And so, the boson remarked, it is better to be on an islet, where at any rate one is sure not to run up against cannibals. And that is what we should probably know if we could get to the top of the cliff, Frank had it. Yes, said Fritz, but there isn't a single place where we can do it. Not even by climbing up the promontory, Captain Gould asked. It is practicable, although very difficult as far as halfway, Fritz answered, but the upper walls are absolutely perpendicular. We should have to use ladders, and even then success isn't certain. If there were some chimney which we could get up with ropes, it might perhaps be possible to reach the top, but there isn't one anywhere. Then we will take the boat and reconnoitre the coast, said Captain Gould. When you are completely recovered, Captain, and not before, replied Fritz firmly, it will be several days yet before. I am getting better, Fritz, the Captain declared. How could it be otherwise with all the attention I have? Mrs. Walston and your wife and Dolly would have cured me merely by looking at me. We will put a sea in forty-eight hours at the latest. Westward or eastward, Fritz asked. According to the wind, the Captain replied, and I have an idea that this trip will be a lucky one, the Boson put in. Fritz, Frank and John Block had already done all but the impossible in their attempts to scale the promontory. They had got about two hundred feet up, although the gradient was very steep, by slipping from one rock to the next in the very middle of a torrent of landslides with the agility of Shamois or Ibex, but a third of the way up they had come to a stop. It had been a highly dangerous attempt, and the Boson had come with an anace of breaking some of his bones. But from that point all their attempts to continue the ascent were in vain. The promontory ended here in a vertical section with a smooth surface. There was not a foothold anywhere, not the tiniest projection on which the boat's ropes might have been caught. And they were still six or seven hundred feet from the top of the cliff. When they returned to the cave, Captain Gould explained the decision which had been reached. Two days hence, on the 27th of October, the boat was to leave her moorings to go along the coast. Had a trip of several days duration been involved, everybody would have gone in the boat. But as only a general reconnaissance was contemplated, he thought it would be better that only he should go with Fritz and the Boson. The three would be enough to handle the boat, and they would not go farther away to the north than they must. If they found that the coastline bounded nothing more than an islet, they could make the circuit of it and be back within 24 hours. Short as their absence might be, the idea of it excited great uneasiness. The rest of the party would not be able to see their companions go without much anxiety. How could they tell what might happen? Suppose they were attacked by savages. Suppose they could not get back soon. Suppose they did not come back at all. Jenny used these arguments with characteristic energy. She insisted that the many anxieties they endured already should not be added to by others arising from an absence which might be prolonged. Fritz sympathized with her arguments. Captain Gould accepted them, and ultimately it was agreed that they should all take part in the projected exploration. As soon as this decision had been arrived at, to the general satisfaction, John Block got busy putting the boat in order. Not that it required any repairs, for it had come to little harm since it had been cast adrift, but it was well to overhaul it and fit it up in anticipation of a possible extension of the voyage to some adjoining land. So the Boson worked his hardest to make it more comfortable in closing the foredeck so that the women might have shelter from squalls and breaking waves. There was nothing more to do but wait, and meanwhile lay in provisions for a voyage which might perhaps be longer than was intended. Besides, if it were necessary to leave Turtle Bay finally, ordinary prudence suggested that they should do so without delay, that they should take advantage of the fine season just beginning in the southern regions. They could not but quail before the idea of a winter here. True, the cave offered them a sure shelter against the storms from the south which were appalling in the Pacific. The cold too could no doubt be faced, for there would be no lack of fuel thanks to the enormous collection of seaweed at the foot of the cliff. But suppose the Turtles failed. Would they be reduced to fish as Seoul died? And the boat, where could they put that in safety out of reach of the waves which must break right up to the back of the beach in the winter? Would they be able to haul it up above the highest tide marks? Harry-Gordon Fritz and the rest had only their arms to rely on, not a tool, not a lever, not a lifting-jack, and the boat was heavy enough to resist their united efforts. At this time of year there was happily nothing but passing storms to fear. The fortnight that they had spent ashore had enabled them all to pick up their moral and physical strength as well as to recover confidence. Their preparations were completed in the morning of the 26th. Fritz observed with some uneasiness that clouds were beginning to gather in the south. They were still a long way off, but were assuming a lurid hue. The breeze was almost imperceptible, yet the heavy mass of cloud was rising in a solid body. If this thunderstorm burst, it would burst full upon Turtle Bay. Hither, too, the rocks at the far end of the promontory had protected the boat from the easterly winds. From the other side, too, the westerly winds could not have touched it, and firmly held, as it was by horses, it might have escaped too severe a buffeting. But if a furious sea swept in from the open main, it would be unprotected and might be smashed to pieces. It was useless to think of trying to find some of the mooring on the other side of the bluff or of the bastion, for even in calm weather the sea broke there with violence. What's to be done? Fritz asked the boson, and the boson had no answer. One hope remained that the storm might blow itself out before it fell upon the coast, but as they listened they could hear a distant rumbling, although the wind was very faint. The sea was roaring out there in the distance, and already intermittent floors were sweeping over its surface, giving it a livid tint. Captain Gould gazed at the horizon. We're in for a bad spell, Fritz said to him. I'm afraid we are, the captain acknowledged, as bad a spell as our worst fears could have imagined. Captain, the boson broke in. This isn't a time to sit and twiddle one's thumbs. We've got to use a little elbow grease, as Sailor Men say. Let us try to pull the boat up to the top of the beach, said Fritz, calling James and his brother. We will try, Captain Gould replied. The tide is coming up, and will help us. Meanwhile, let us begin by lightening the boat as much as we can. All buckled too. The sails were laid upon the sand, the mast unstepped, the rudder unshipped, and the seats and spas were taken out and carried within the cave. By the time the tide was slack, the boat had been hauled about twenty yards higher up. But that was not enough. She would have to be pulled up twice as far again to be out of reach of the waves. Having no other tools, the boson pushed planks under the keel, and all combined to pull and push, but their efforts were useless. The heavy boat was fixed in the sand, and did not gain an inch beyond the last high water mark. When evening came, the wind threatened a hurricane. From the piled clouds in the zenith, flash after flash of lightning broke, followed by terrific peels of thunder, which the cliff re-echoed in appalling reverberations. Although the boat had been left high and dry by the abtide, the waves, momentarily becoming stronger, would soon lift it up from the stern, and now the rain fell in big drops, so heavily charged with electricity that they seemed to explode as they struck the sand on the shore. You can't stay outside any longer, Jenny dear, said Fritz. Do go back into the cave, I beg you. You too, Dolly, and you too, Mrs. Walston. Jenny did not want to leave her husband, but Captain Gould spoke authoritatively. Go inside, Mrs. Fritz, he said. You too, Captain, she replied. You must not expose yourself to a wetting yet. I have nothing to fear now, Harry Gould answered. Jenny, I tell you again, go back, there's no time to lose, Fritz exclaimed, and Jenny, Dolly, and Susan took refuge in the cave, just as the rain in which hail was mingled began to rattle down like grapeshot. Captain Gould and the Boson, Fritz, Frank, and James, remained near the boat, though it was with the utmost difficulty that they stood up against the squalls which swept the shore. The waves were breaking in the bay already, and throwing their spray right over it. The danger was acute. Would it be possible to sustain the boat against the shocks which were rolling from one side to the other? If it were broken up, how would Captain Gould and his companions be able to get away from this coast before the winter? All fiths stood by, and when the sea came farther up and lifted the boat, they hung on to its sides trying to steady it. Soon the storm was at its height. From twenty places at once tremendous flashes of lightning burst. When they struck the bastions, they tore off fragments which could be heard crashing upon the heaps of seaweed. An enormous wave, twenty-five or thirty feet high at least, was lifted up by the hurricane, and dashed upon the shore like a huge water spout. Caught in its grip, Captain Gould and his companions were swept right up to the heaps of seaweed, and it was only by a miracle that the enormous wave did not carry them back with it, as it drew again to the sea. The disaster feared so much had befallen them. The boat, torn from its bed, swept up to the top of the beach, and then carried down again to the rocks at the end of the promontory, was smashed, and its fragments, after floating for a moment in the creaming foam of the backwater, disappeared from view round the bend of the bluff. End of Chapter 6 Chapter 7 of The Castaways of the Flag This is a LibriVox recording, or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, recording by Adrienne Stevens. The Castaways of the Flag by Jules Verne Chapter 7 The Coming of the Arbatross The situation seemed worse than ever. While they were in the boat, exposed to all the perils of the sea, Captain Gould and his passengers at least had a chance of being picked up by some ship or of reaching land. They had not fallen in with the ship, and although they had reached land, it was practically uninhabitable, yet it seemed they must give up all hope of ever leaving it. Still, said John Block to Fritz, if we had run into a storm like that out at sea, our boat would have gone to the bottom and taken us with it. Fritz made no reply. He hurried through deluge of rain and hail to take shelter with Jenny and Dolly and Susan, who were intensely anxious. Owing to its position in the corner of the promontory, the inside of the cave had not been flooded. Towards midnight, when the rain had stopped, the boatsmen piled a heap of seaweed near the mouth of the cave. A bright fire soon blazed, drying their drenched clothes. Until the fury of the storm abated, the whole sky was incessantly ablaze. The peeling thunder diminished as the clouds were driven rapidly towards the north. But as long as distant lightning continued to light up the bay, the wind blew with great force, lifting billows which plunged and broke wildly on the shore. At dawn the men came out of the cave. Tattered clouds were passing over the cliff. Some, hanging lower, skimmed the surface. During the night the lightning had struck it in several places. Huge fragments of rock lay at its base. But there was no sign of a new cleft or crevice into which it might be possible to squeeze, and so to reach the plateau above. Captain Gould, Fritz and John Block took stock of what was left of the boat. It comprised the mast, the foresail and jib, the rigging, the horses, the rudder, the oars, the anchor and its cable, the wooden seats, and the casks of fresh water. Some use could no doubt be made of most of these things, damaged as they were. Fortunas tried us cruelly, Fritz said. If only we had not these poor women with us, three women and a child, what fate awaits them here on this shore which we cannot even leave now. Even Frank, with all his faith, kept silence this time. What could he say? But John Block was wondering whether the storm had not brought yet another disaster upon the shipwrecked company, for so they might well be described. Was there not good reason to fear that the turtles might have been destroyed by the breakers, and the eggs smashed as the sand was washed away? It would be an irreparable loss if this food supply failed. The boatsman made a sign to Frank to come to him, and said a few words in an undertone. Then both crossed the promontory and went down to the creek, intending to go over it as far as the bluff. While Captain Gould, Fritz and James went towards the western bastion, Jenny and Dolly and Susan resumed their usual occupations, what might be called their household duties. Little Bob played on the sand in sublime indifference, waiting for his mother to prepare some soaked biscuit for him. Susan was overcome by grief and anxiety, as she thought of the distress and want which her child might not have the strength to endure. After putting everything in order inside the cave, Jenny and Dolly came out and joined Mrs. Wolston. Then very sadly they talked of their present situation, which had been so sorely aggravated since the day before. Dolly and Susan were more overcome than the courageous Jenny. What will become of us, Susan asked. Don't let us lose heart, Jenny answered, and above all don't let us discourage our men. But we can never get away now, Dolly said, and when the rainy season comes. I tell you, Dolly, as I told Susan, Jenny answered, that no good is done by giving up courage. How can I keep any hope at all, Mrs. Wolston exclaimed. You must, it is your duty to, Jenny said. Think of your husband. You will increase his misery a thousandfold if you let him see you cry. You are so strong, Jenny, Dolly said. You have fought misfortune before, but we, you, Jenny replied. Do you forget that Captain Gould and Fritz and Frank and James and John Block will do everything that is possible to save us all? What can they do? Susan demanded. I don't know, Susan, but they will succeed, provided we don't hamper them by giving way ourselves to despair. My child, my child! murmured the poor woman, choked by sobs. Seeing his mother crying, Bob stood in wonder with his eyes wide open. Jenny drew him to her and took him on her knees. Mummy was anxious, darling. She called you and you didn't answer, and then you were playing in the sand, weren't you? Yes, said Bob, with a boat that Block made for me, but I wanted him to make a little white sail for it so that it could sail. There are holes full of water in the sand where I can put it. Aunt Dolly promised to make me a sail. Yes, Bob dear, you shall have it today, Dolly promised. Two sails, the child answered. Two sails like the boat that brought us here. Of course, Jenny answered. Aunt Dolly will make you a lovely sail, and I will make you one too. Thank you, thank you, Jenny, Bob answered, clapping his hands. But where is our big boat? I can't see it anywhere. It has gone away, fishing, Jenny answered. It will come back soon with lots of beautiful fish. Besides, you have got your own, the one that good John Block made for you. Yes, but I'm going to tell him to make me another, one in which I can sail, with Papa and Mummy, and Aunt Dolly, and Jenny, and everybody. Poor little fellow, he voiced so exactly what was wanted, the replacement of the boat, and how was that to be done? Run away again and play, darling, Jenny said to him, and don't go far away. No, over there, quite close, Jenny. And he kissed his mother, went bounding away as children of his age will. Susan, dear, and you too, Dolly dear, said Jenny, God will see that the little child is saved, and Bob's rescue means our own. I do beg of you, no more weakness, no more crying, have faith in providence as I have, as I have always had. So Jenny spoke out of her brave heart. Come what might, she would never despair. If the rainy season set in before the shipwrecked people could leave this coast, and how could they leave it, unless some ship took them off, arrangements would be made to spend a winter there. The cave would give secure protection from the heavy weather. The heaps of seaweed would give fuel to protect them from the cold. Fishing, hunting perhaps, would suffice to provide them with their daily bread. It was of the first importance to know whether John Block's fears about the turtles were well founded. Happily they were not. After being away for an hour, the boatsmen and Frank came along with their accustomed load of turtles, which had taken refuge under the heap of kelp. But they had not a single egg. Never mind, they will lay good old things, said John Block cheerily. It was impossible not to smile at the bosons, little joke. In the course of their walk to the bastion, Captain Gould Fritz and James had seen again the impossibility of getting round it any other way than by sea. Currents ran there, with tremendous force and in both directions. Even in calm weather, the violent surf would have prevented any boat from getting close in, and the strongest swimmer might have been carried out to sea or dashed upon the rocks. So the necessity of getting to the top of the cliff, by some other means, became more imperative than ever. How are we to do it? said Fritz one day, gazing irritably at the inaccessible crest. You can't get out of a prison when its walls are a thousand feet high, was James's answer. Unless you tunnel through them, Fritz replied. Tunnel through that mass of granite, which is probably thicker than it is high, said James. Anyhow, we can't remain in this prison, exclaimed Fritz, in a burst of impotent but uncontrollable anger. Be patient and have confidence, said Frank again. Patience I can have, Fritz retorted, but confidence, that is another thing. And indeed, on what might confidence be placed? Rescue could only come from a ship passing beyond the bay, and if one came, would it see their signals, the lighting of a huge fire on the beach, or on the end of the promontory? A fortnight had passed since the boat came to land, several more weeks passed without bringing any change in the situation. As to the food supplies, they were reduced to turtles and their eggs, and to crustaceans, crabs and lobsters, some of which John Block was generally able to catch. It was he who usually occupied himself with the fishing, assisted by Frank. Lines with bent nails for hooks, taken from the boat's planks, had rendered possible the capture of various kinds of fish. Dorado, 12 to 15 inches long, of a beautiful reddish colour and excellent eating, and bass or saltwater perch. Once even a large sturgeon was caught with a slipknot, which landed it on the sand. The dogfish plentiful in these waters were poor eating, but there was obtained from them a grease used to make coarse candles, for which wicks were fashioned out of dry seaweed. Deserving as the prospect of wintering here might be, thought had to be given to it, and precautions taken against the long and dark days of the rainy season. The salmon, which used to go up Jackal River in New Switzerland, in such numbers at certain times of the year, were not forthcoming here, but one day a school of herrings stranded at the mouth of the little stream. Several hundreds of them were taken, and smoked over a fire of dry seaweed, made an important preserve of food. Isn't there a saying that herrings bring their own butter, John Block inquired? Well, if so, here are some already cooked, and what I want to know is what we shall do with all of these good things. Several times during these six weeks, attempts have been made to climb to the top of the cliff. As all these attempts were fruitless, Fritz determined to go round the bluff to the east, but he was careful to say nothing of his intention to anyone except John Block. So, on the morning of 7 December, the two men went to the creek, under the pretense of collecting turtles at its eastern point. There, at the foot of the enormous mass of rock, the sea was breaking savagely, and to get round it Fritz must risk his life. The boson vainly did his best to induce him to desist from the idea, and failing had no choice but to help him. After undressing, Fritz fastened a long line around his loins, one of the boat's yard ropes, gave the other end to John Block, and jumped into the sea. The risk was twofold, of being caught by the surf, and thrown against the base of the bluff, and of being carried away by the current if the line should break. Twice did Fritz try without success to get free of the waves. It was only at the third attempt that he succeeded in reaching and maintaining a position in which he could look beyond the bluff. And then John Block was obliged to pull him in again, to the point, not without a good deal of trouble. Well, the boatson inquired, what is there beyond? Nothing but rocks and more rocks, Fritz answered, as soon as he had recovered his wind. I only saw a succession of creeks and capes. The cliff goes right on to the northward. I'm not surprised, John Block replied. When the result of the attempt was made known, one can imagine Jenny's emotions when she heard of it. It seemed as if the last hope had vanished. This island, from which Captain Gould and his ship's companies could not escape, was apparently nothing better than an uninhabited and uninhabitable rock. And this unhappy situation was complicated by so many bitter regrets. But for the mutiny, the passengers on the flag would have reached the fertile domain of the Promised Land a couple of months ago. Think of the anguish of all those who were expecting them, and watching in vain for their coming. Truly, these relations and friends of theirs were more to be pitted than Captain Gould and his company. At any rate, the fall-on company knew that their dear ones were safe in New Switzerland. Thus the future loomed heavy with anxiety, and the present was hard. A new reason for alarm would have been added, if all had known what only Captain Gould and the boatsmen knew, that the number of turtles was decreasing perceptibly, in consequence of their daily consumption. But perhaps, John Block suggested, it is because the creatures know of some passage underground through which they can get the creeks to the east and west. It is a pity we can't follow them. Anyhow, Block, Captain Gould replied, Don't say a word to our friends. Keep your mind easy, Captain, I told you because one can tell you everything, and ought to tell me everything, Block. Thereafter the boatsmen was obliged to fish more assiduously, for the sea would never withhold what the land would soon deny. Of course, if they lived exclusively on fish and mollusks and crustaceans, the general health would suffer, and if illness broke out, that would be the last straw. The last week of December came. The weather was still fine, except for a few thunderstorms, not so violent as the first one. The heat, sometimes excessive, would have been almost intolerable, but for the great shadow thrown over the shore by the cliff, which sheltered it from the sun as it traced its daily arc above the northern horizon. At this season, numbers of birds thronged these waters. Not only seagulls and divers, sea-mew and frigate birds, which were the usual dwellers on the shore, from time to time flocks of cranes and herons passed, reminding frits of his excellent sport round Swan Lake, and about the farms in the Promised Land. On the top of the bluff, too, cormorants appeared, like Jenny's bird, now in the paltry run at Rock Castle, and albatrosses, like the one she had sent with her message from the burning rock. These birds kept out of range. When they settled on the promontory, it was useless to attempt to get near them, and they flew at full speed above the inaccessible crest of the cliff. One day all the others were called to the beach by a shout from the boson. Look there! Look there! he continued to cry, pointing to the edge of the upper plateau. What is it now, fritz demanded? Can't you see that row of black specks? John Block returned. They are penguins, Frank replied. Yes, they are penguins, Captain Gould declared. They look no bigger than crows, but that is because they are perched so high up. Well, said fritz, if those birds have been able to get up on the plateau, it means that on the other side of the cliff the ascent is practicable. That seems certain, for penguins are clumsy heavy birds, with rudimentary stumps instead of wings. They could not have flown up to the crest, so if the ascent could not be made on the south, it could be on the north. But from lack of a boat, in which to go along the shore, this hope of reaching the top of the cliff had to be abandoned. Sad, terribly sad, was the Christmas of this most gloomy year. Full of bitterness was the thought of what Christmas might have been, in the large hall of Rock Castle, in the midst of the two families, with Captain Gould and John Block. Yet, in spite of all these trials, the health of the little company was not as yet affected. On the boson, hardship had no more effect than disappointment. I'm getting fat, he often said. Yes, I'm getting fat. That's what comes of spending one's time doing nothing. Doing nothing, alas. Unhappily in the present situation, there was practically nothing to do. In the afternoon of the 29th something happened which record memories of happier days. A bird settled on a part of the promontory which was not inaccessible. It was an albatross, which had probably come a long way and seemed to be very tired. It lay out on a rock, its legs stretched, its wings folded. Fritz determined to try to capture this bird. He was clever with the lasso, and he thought he might succeed if he made a running noose with one of the boat's hal yards. A long line was prepared by the boson, and Fritz climbed up the promontory as softly as possible. Everybody watched him. The bird did not move, and Fritz, getting within a few fathoms of it, cast his lasso round its body. The bird made hardly any attempt to get free, when Fritz, who had picked it up in his arms, brought it down to the beach. Jenny could not restrain a cry of astonishment. It is, it is, she exclaimed, caressing the bird. I am sure I recognize him. What? Fritz exclaimed. You mean? Yes, Fritz, yes. It really is my albatross, my companion on the burning rock, the one to which I tied the note that fell into your hands. Could it be? Was not Jenny mistaken? After three whole years, could that same albatross, which had never returned to the island, have flown to this coast? But Jenny was not mistaken. And all were made quite sure about it, when she showed them a tiny bit of thread, still fastened round one of the bird's claws. Of the scrap of cloth on which Fritz had traced his few words of reply, nothing now remained. If the albatross had come from so far, it was no doubt because these powerful birds can fly vast distances. Quite likely this one had come from the east of the Indian Ocean, to these regions of the Pacific, possibly more than a thousand miles away. Much petting was lavished upon the messenger from the burning rock. It was like a link between the shipwrecked people and their friends in New Switzerland. Two days later, the year 1817 reached its end. What did the New Year hold in store? End of Chapter 7 Chapter 8 of The Castaways of the Flag This is a LibriVox recording, or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Adrienne Stevens The Castaways of the Flag by Jules Verne Chapter 8 Little Bob Lost If Captain Gould was not mistaken in his calculations about the geographical position of the island, the summer season could not have more than another three months to run. After that, winter would arrive, formidable by reason of its cold squalls and furious storms. The faint chance of attracting the attention of some ship out at sea by means of signals would have disappeared. In winter sailors avoid these dangerous waters, but just possibly something would happen before then to modify the situation. Existence was much what it had been ever since the gloomy 26th of October, when the boat was destroyed. The monotony was terribly trying to such active men, with nothing to do but wander about at the foot of the cliff which imprisoned them, tiring their eyes with watching the ever-deserted sea. They needed extraordinary moral courage, not to give way to despair. The long, long days were spent in conversation, in which Jenny bore the principal part. The brave young woman loved them all, taxed her ingenuity to keep their minds occupied, and discussed all manner of schemes, as to the utility of which she herself was under no misapprehension. Sometimes they wondered if the island really lay, as they had supposed, in the west of the Pacific. The Boson expressed some doubt on this point. Is it the Arbatross is coming that has changed your mind? The captain asked him one day. Well, yes it has, John Block replied, and I am right, I think. You infer from it that this island lies farther north than we supposed, Block? Yes, Captain, and for all anybody knows, somewhere near the Indian Ocean, an Arbatross might fly hundreds of miles without resting, but hardly thousands. I know that, Captain Gould replied, but I know, too, that it was Borrupt's interest to take the flag towards the Pacific. As for the week we were shut up in the hold, I thought, and so did you, that the wind was from the west. I agree, the Boson answered, and yet this Arbatross, has it come from near or from far? And even supposing you are right, Block, even supposing we were mistaken about the position of this island, and that it really is only a few miles from New Switzerland, isn't it just as bad as if it were hundreds of miles off, seeing that we can't get away from it? Captain Gould's conclusion was unfortunately only too reasonable. Everything pointed to the probability of the flag having steered for the Pacific, far, very far, from New Switzerland's waters, and yet, what John Block was thinking, others were thinking too. It seemed as if the bird from Burning Rock had brought hope with it. When the bird recovered from its exhaustion, which it speedily did, it was neither timid nor wild. It was soon walking about the beach, feeding on the berries of the kelp or on fish, which it was very clever in catching, and it showed no desire to fly away. Sometimes it would fly along the promontory, and settle on top of the cliff, uttering little cries. Aha! the Boson used to say then. He is asking us up. If only he could give me the loan of his wings, I would willingly undertake to fly up there and look over the other side. Very likely that side of the coast isn't any better than this one, but at any rate we would know. No? Did they not know already, since Fritz had seen nothing but the same arid rocks, and the same inaccessible heights beyond the bluff? One of the Arbatross's chief friends was Little Bob. The comradeship had promptly been established between the child and the bird. They played together on the sand. There was no danger to be apprehended from the teasing of the one or the pecking of the other. When the weather was bad, both went into the cave where the Arbatross had his own corner. Sirius thought had to be given to the chances of a winter here, but for some stroke of good fortune they would have to endure four or five months of bad weather. In these latitudes, in the heart of the Pacific, storms burst with extraordinary violence, and lowered the temperature to a serious extent. Captain Gould, Fritz and John Block, talked sometimes of this. It was better to look the perils of the future squarely in the face, having made up their minds to struggle on. They no longer felt the discouragement, which had been caused earlier by the destruction of the boat. If only the situation were not aggravated by the presence of the woman and the child, Captain Gould said more than once, if we were only men here. All the more reason to do more than we should have done, Fritz rejoined. One serious question cropped up in these anticipations of the winter. If the cold became severe and a fire had to be kept up day and night, might not the supply of fuel give out? Kelp was deposited on the beach by every incoming tide, and quickly dried by the sun, but an acrid smoke was produced by the combustion of these seaweeds, and they could not make use of them to warm the cave. The atmosphere would have been rendered unbearable. So it was thought best to close the entrance with the sails of the boat, fixing them firmly enough to withstand the squalls, which beset the cliff during the winter. There remained the problem of lighting the inside of the cave, when the weather should preclude the possibility of working outside. The Boson and Frank, assisted by Jenny and Dolly, made many rude candles out of the grease from the dogfish which swarmed in the creek, and were very easy to catch. John Locke melted this grease, and subtained a kind of oil which coagulated, as it cooled, since he had at his disposal none of the cotton grown by Monsieur Zermach. He was obliged to content himself with the fibre of laminarii, which furnished practicable wicks. There was also the question of clothes, and that was a different question indeed. It's pretty clear, said the Boson one day, that when you are shipwrecked and cast on a desert island, it is prudent to have a ship at your disposal, in which you can find everything you want, one makes a poor job of it, otherwise. They all agreed, that was how the landlord had been the salvation of the people in New Switzerland. In the afternoon of the 17th, an incident of which no one could have foreseen the consequence caused the most intense anxiety. As already mentioned, Bob found great pleasure in playing with the Arbatross. When he was amusing himself on the shore, his mother kept a constant watch upon him, to see that he did not go far away, for he was fond of scrambling about among the low rocks of the promontory, and running away from the waves. But when he stayed with the bird in the cave, there was no risk in leaving him by himself. It was about three o'clock. James Woolstone was helping the Boson to arrange the spars, to sport the heavy curtain in front of the entrance to the cave. Jenny and Susan and Dolly were sitting in the corner by the stove, on which the little kettle was boiling, and were busy mending their clothes. It was nearly time for Bob's luncheon. Mrs. Woolstone called the child. Bob did not answer. Susan went down to the beach and called louder, but still got no reply. Then the Boson called out. Bob! Bob! It's dinner time! The child did not appear, and he could not be seen running about the shore. He was here only a minute ago, James declared. Where the deuce can he be? John Block said to himself as he went toward the promontory. Captain Gould, Fritz, and Frank were walking along the foot of the cliff. Bob was not with them. The Boson made a trumpet of his hands and called out several times. Bob! Bob! The child remained invisible. James came up to the captain and the two brothers. You haven't seen Bob, have you? He asked in a very anxious voice. No, Frank answered. I saw him half an hour ago, Fritz declared. He was playing with the albatross, and all began to call him, turning in every direction. It was in vain. Then Fritz and James went to the promontory, climbed the nearest rocks, and looked all over the creek. Neither child nor bird was there. Both went back to the others. Mrs. Woolstone was pale with fear. Have you looked inside the cave? Captain Gould asked. Fritz made one spring to the cave and searched every corner of it, but came back without the child. Mrs. Woolstone was distracted. She went to and fro like a madwoman. The little boy might have slipped among the rocks or fallen into the sea. The most alarming suppositions were permissible, since Bob had not been found. So the search had to be prosecuted without a moment's delay along the beach and as far as the creek. Fritz and James, said Captain Gould, come with me along the foot of the cliff. Do you think Bob could have got buried in a heap of seaweed? Yes, you go, said the boson, while Mr. Frank and I go and search the creek. And the promontory, Frank added, it is possible that Bob may have taken it into his head to go climbing there and have fallen into some hole. So they separated, some going to the right, some to the left. Jenny and Dolly stayed with Mrs. Woolstone and tried to allay her anxiety. Half an hour later all were back again after a fruitless search. Nowhere in the bay was any trace of the child and all their calling had been without result. Susan's grief broke out. She sobbed in anguish and had to be carried against her will into the cave. Her husband, who went with her, could not utter a word. Outside, Frank said, the child can't possibly be lost. I tell you again, I saw him on the shore scarcely an hour ago, and he was not nearer the sea. He had a string in his hand with a pebble at the end of it and was playing with the albatross. By the way, where is the bird? Frank asked, looking round. Yes, where is he? John block echoed. Can they have disappeared together? Captain Gould inquired. It looks like it, for it's replied. They looked in every direction and especially towards the rocks where the bird was accustomed to perch. It was not to be seen nor could its cry be heard, a cry easily distinguishable from the noises of the divers, gulls, and sea-muse. The albatross might have flown above the cliff and made for some other eminence along the coast, but the little boy could not have flown away, yet he might have been capable of climbing along the promontory after the bird. This explanation was hardly admissible, however, after the search that Frank and the Boson had made. Yet it was impossible not to see some connection between Bob's disappearance and that of the albatross. They hardly ever separated, and now they were both lost together. Evening drew on. The father and mother were in terrible grief. Susan was so agitated that they feared for her reason. Jenny, Dolly, and Captain Gould and the others did not know what next to do. When they reflected that if the child had fallen into some hole he would have to stay there all night, they began to search again. A fire of seaweed was lighted at the far end of the promontory to be a guide for the child in case he should have gone to the back of the creek. But after remaining afoot until the last possible minute of the evening, they had to give up hope of finding Bob. And what were the chances of there being more successful next day? Or went back into the cave, but not to sleep. How could they sleep? First one, and then another went out, watched, listened through the rippling of the tide, and then came back and sat down again without saying a word. It was the most sorrowful heart-breaking night of all that Captain Gould and his company had passed upon this deserted coast. About two o'clock in the morning, the sky, which had been brilliant with stars until then, began to be overcast. The breeze was now in the north, and the clouds from that quarter gathered overhead. Not yet very thick, they chased each other with ever-increasing speed, and east and west of the cliff the sea must certainly be rough. It was the time when the flood brought up on the beach the rollers of the rising tide. Just at this moment Mrs. Wollstone got up, and before she could be stopped, she rushed out of the cage in delirium, shrieking, My child! My child! Force had to be used to get her back again. James, who had caught his wife up, took her in his arms, and carried her back more dead than alive. The unhappy mother remained stretched out on the heap of kelp, where Bob usually slept by her side. Jenny and Dolly tried to bring her round, but it was only after great efforts on their part that she recovered consciousness. Throughout the remainder of the night the wind moaned incessantly round the top of the cliff. A score of times the men searched all over the shore, fearing always that the incoming tide might lay a little corpse upon the sand. But there was nothing, nothing. Could the child have been carried out to sea by the waves? About four o'clock, when the ebb tide was just setting in after the slack, light appeared in the east. At this moment Fritz, who was leaning against the back of the cave, thought he heard a kind of cry behind the wall. He listened, and fearing that he might be mistaken, went up to the captain. Come with me, he said, without knowing, without even asking what Fritz wanted, Captain Gould went with him. Listen, said Fritz. Captain Gould listened intently. I can hear a bird's cry, he said. Yes, a bird's cry, Fritz declared. Then there must be a hollow behind the wall. There must be, and perhaps a passage communicating with the outside, how else is it to be explained? You are right, Fritz. John Block was told. He put his ear against the wall, and said positively. It's the Arbatross' cry, I recognise it. And if the Arbatross is there, said Fritz, little Bob must be there too. But how could they both have got in, the captain asked. That we will find out, John Block replied. Frank and Jenny and Dolly were now told. James and his wife recovered a little hope. He is there, he is there, Susan said, over and over again. John Block had lighted one of the thick candles, that the Arbatross was behind the wall nobody could doubt, for its cry continued to be heard. But just before looking to see if it had slipped in by some opening outside, it was necessary to make sure that the back wall had no orifice. Candle in hand, the boson began to examine this wall. John Block could see only, on its surface, a few fissures which were too narrow for the Arbatross, or Bob to get through. But at the bottom, a hole, 20 to 25 inches wide, was hollowed out in the ground, a hole big enough to take the bird and the child. Meantime, however, the Arbatross' cry had ceased, and all were afraid that Captain Gould, the boson and Fritz must have been mistaken. Then Jenny took John Block's place, and stooping down level with the hole, she called the bird several times. The Arbatross knew her voice, as well as it knew her caress. Her cry answered her, and almost immediately the bird came out through the hole. Bob! Bob! Jenny called again. The child did not answer, did not appear. Was he not with the bird behind the wall? His mother could not restrain a cry of despair. Wait! said the boson. He crouched down and enlarged the hole, throwing the sand out behind him. In a few minutes he had made the hole large enough for him to squeeze into it. A minute later he brought out little Bob, who had fainted, but who was not long in recovering consciousness under his mother's kisses. End of chapter 8 Chapter 9 Bob found. It took Miss Wolston some time to recover from her terrible shock, but Bob was restored to her, and that comforted her. It appeared that Bob, playing with an Arbatross, had followed it to the back of the cave. The bird made its way through a narrow passage, and Bob went after it. A dark excavation opened out at the end, and when the little fellow wanted to get out of this, he found that he could not. At first he called, but his calls were not heard. Then he lost consciousness, and nobody knows what might have happened, if by the luckiest chance Fritz had not happened to hear the cry of the Arbatross. Well, said the boatswain, now that Bob is in his mother's arms again, everything is for the best. Thanks to him, we have discovered another cave. It is true we haven't any use to put it to. The first one was enough for us, and, as a matter of fact, we asked nothing better than to get away from that one, but I want to find how far it runs back, Captain Gold remarked. Right to the other side of the cliff, do you fancy, Captain? Who can tell, Block? All right, the boatswain answered, but even supposing it does run through the cliff, what shall we find on the other side? Sand, rocks, creeks, promontories, and as much green stuff as I can cover with my hat? That's very likely, Fritz replied, but nonetheless, we must look. We'll look, Mr. Fritz. We'll look. Looking costs nothing, as the saying is. The investigation might have such priceless results that it had to be undertaken without delay. The Captain, Fritz, and Frank went back to the end of the cave. The boatswain walked behind them, armed with several big candles. To make the way easier, those in front enlarged the aperture by removing some more of the stones which had fallen into it. A quarter of an hour suffice to make the opening large enough. None of them had put on flesh since they had landed. Only the boatswain had not lost weight since they had left the flag. When they had all got through, the candles gave sufficient light for them to examine the second excavation. It was deeper than the first one, but much narrower, and a hundred feet or so long. Ten or twelve feet in diameter, and about the same height. It was possible that other passages branched off from it and formed a kind of labyrinth inside the massive cliff. Captain Gould wondered whether one of these branches might not perhaps lead, if not to the top of the cliff, at any rate beyond the bluff or the bastion. John Block passed the light all over its surface from the ground to the vault, but found only narrow fissures into which the hand could not be put. So there was no more hope of penetrating further through the solid mass. Nor did the sidewalls of the passage disclose any aperture. The second excavation beyond the first cave was the sole discovery resulting from the incident. Well, said Captain Gould, it's not by this way that we should get through the cliff. Nor over it, added the boatswain. And, having made sure of that, they could do nothing but go back. As a matter of fact, although it was rather disappointing not to find any inner passage, nobody had thought it likely, and yet when Captain Gould and John Block and Fritz got back, they had a feeling of being more confined than ever on this shore. During the next few days the weather, very fine hither too, showed signs of changing. Light clouds which soon grew thicker obscured the blue sky, blown over the plateau above by a northerly breeze which, in the evening of the 22nd of January, strengthened until it blew a gale. Coming from that quarter, the wind was no menace to Turtle Bay. Sheltered by the cliff, the bay was not exposed to the breakers, as it had been in the violent storm which had caused the destruction of the boat. The sea would remain calm along the shore, not getting the force of the wind nearer than a good mile and a half from the coast. Even if a hurricane burst, there would be nothing to fear. A heavy thunderstorm broke on the night of the 22nd. About one o'clock in the morning, everybody was awakened suddenly by a crash of thunder that made a more appalling noise than a cannon fired at the mouth of the cave could have done. Fritz, Frank and the boatswain sprang from their corners and rushed to the door. The lightning struck quite close by, said Frank. At the crest of the cliff, most likely, replied John Block, going a few steps outside. Susan and Dolly, who were always greatly affected by thunderstorms as many people of nervous temperament are, had followed Ginny outside the cave. Well, Dolly inquired, there is no danger, Dolly dear, Frank answered. Go back and close your eyes and ears. But Ginny was just saying to her husband, who had come up to her. What a smell of smoke, Fritz! That's not surprising, said the boatswain. There is the fire over there. Where, Captain Goldass sharply, on that heap of seaweed at the foot of the cliff, the lightning had set fire to the heap of dry wheat, and a few minutes the flames had spread to the mass of seaweeds collected at the base of the cliff. It burned up like straw, crackling in the breeze, eddying about like will of the wisps and spreading an acrid smoke over the whole beach. Fortunately, the entrance to the cave was clear, and the fire could not reach it. That's our reserve burning, John Block exclaimed. Can't we save any of it? said Fritz. I fear not, Captain Gold replied. The flames spread so rapidly that it was impossible to remove to safety the heaps which furnished the only fuel the shipwrecked people had. True, the quantity deposited by the sea was inexhaustible. The stuff would continue to be thrown up, but it would take a long time for such a quantity to accumulate. The incoming tide deposited a few armfuls twice in every 24 hours. What had lain on the beach was the harvest of many years. And who could say that in the few weeks remaining before the rainy season, the tide would have thrown up enough for the winter's need. In less than a quarter of an hour the line of fire had ringed the whole circle of the shore, and except for a few heaps along the promontory, there was nothing left. This fresh hammer blow of evil fortune aggravated the situation already so disturbing. Upon my word, it's no go. And coming from the lips of the boatswain, who was always so confident, the words had exceptional significance. But they would not make the walls of the prison fall down to allow the prisoners to escape. Next morning the weather, though no longer thundery, was still unsettled, and the north wind continued to sweep the plateau fiercely. Their first business was to see whether the seaweeds piled up along the bastion had been spared by the fire. They had been partially. The men brought back in their arms enough to last for a week, exclusive of what the tides would bring up every day. While the wind continued to blow from the north, these floating masses would, of course, be carried to sea. But as soon as it veered round to the south again, the harvest could be gathered more abundantly. Nevertheless, Captain Gould pointed out that some precautions would have to be taken for the future. Quite right, John Block answered. It would be a good plan to put what is left of the seaweed under cover, in case we have to winter here. Why not store it in the second cave that we have just discovered? Fritz suggested. That seemed to be expressly indicated, and that day before noon Fritz resolved to go back into the cave in order to examine its nature and arrangements inside. Provided with a candle, he crept through the narrow opening communicating between the two caves. Who could say if the second one had not some means of egress beyond the mass of rock? But just as he reached the far end of the long passage, Fritz felt a fresh breath of air, and at the same moment his ear detected a continual whistling sound. Wind, he muttered. That's wind. He put his face near the wall, and his hand found several fishers in it. Wind, he said again. It certainly is wind. It gets in here when it blows from the north, so there is a passage, either on the side or at the top of the cliff. But then, on this side, it would mean that there is a communication with the northern flank of the cliff. Just at that moment, the candle which Fritz was passing along the wall went out suddenly in a stronger drought blowing through one of the fishers. Fritz did not wait for anything more. He was convinced if one got through this wall, one would have free access to the outside. To crawl back to the cave where all were waiting for him, to tell them of his discovery, to take them back again with him, and make sure that he was right, was only the work of minutes. In a few minutes more, Fritz, followed by Captain Gould, John Block, and James, went from the first cave into the second. They lighted their way by candles, which, on this occasion, they were careful not to put too near the wall at the far end. Fritz was not mistaken. Fresh air was blowing freely through the passage. Then the boatswain, passing the light along the level of the ground, noticed that the passage was closed only by a heap of stones, which had no doubt fallen right down a kind of natural shaft. The door, he exclaimed, there's the door, and no need of a key to open it with. Ha, Captain, you were in the right of it, after all. Get onto it, get onto it, was all Captain Gould's reply. It was easier to clear the passage of the obstructing stones. They passed them from hand to hand, quite a lot of them, for the heap was five or six feet above the ground level. As the work proceeded, the current of air became stronger. There most certainly was a sort of gorge carved out inside the mass of rock. A quarter of an hour was enough to clear the passage entirely. Fritz was the first through, and, followed by the others, he went ten or twelve steps up a very steep slope, dimly lighted. There was no vertical shaft. A gorge five or six feet wide and open to the sky wound between two walls which rose an immense height, and a strip of blue sky formed its ceiling. It was down this gorge the wind rushed, to creep through the fissures in the wall at the end of the passage, and so the cliff was rent right through. But where did the rift open out? They could not tell until they had reached the far end of it, supposing they found it possible to do so. But for all that they stood like prisoners before whom the gill doors have just opened, it was barely eight o'clock, and there was plenty of time. They did not even discuss the question of sending Fritz or the boatswain on in advance to explore. Everyone wanted to go up the passage at once without losing a minute. But we must take some provisions, Jenny said. Who can tell whether we shall not be away longer than we think? Besides, Fritz answered, have we any idea where we're going? Outside, the boatswain replied. The simple word so exactly expressing the general sentiment answered everything, but Captain Gould insisted that they should have breakfast first, also that they should take provisions for several days with them in case they should be delayed. Breakfast was hurried through. After four months passed in this bay, they were naturally in a hurry to find out whether their situation had improved, perhaps even changed entirely. Besides, there would still be time to come back. If the upper plateau proved to be as barren as the shore, if it were unsuitable for a settlement, if, from the extreme summit, no other land were to be seen in the proximity, if the castaways from the flag found they had landed on an island or an islet, they would return to the cave and make their arrangements to meet the winter there. Directly the meal was finished the men took the bundles of provisions. The first cave was left, and with the albatross walking beside Jenny all went through the mouth of the passage. When they came to the mouth of the gorge, Fritz and Frank went through first. After them came Jenny, Dolly, and Susan, holding little Bob's hand. Captain Gould and James came next, and John Block closed the rear. At first the gorge was so narrow that they had to walk in single file. It was really nothing but a cleft in the solid rock, running in a northerly direction between two vertical walls, which rose to a height of eight or nine hundred feet. After a hundred yards or so in a straight line, the ground began to slope upwards rather steeply. The way must be a long one, for if it did debauch upon the plateau, it would have had to make up the five hundred feet or so from the level of the beach to the upper part of the cliff. Moreover, the journey was soon lengthened by the twists and turns of the path. It was like the abrupt and capricious twisting of a labyrinth inside the maths of rock. But judging from the light that spread above, Harry Gould believed that the general direction of the gorge was from south to north. The lateral walls gradually drew further apart, rendering the march much easier. About ten o'clock they were obliged to call a halt to allow everyone to recover their breath. They stopped in a sort of semi-circular cavity, above which a much larger slice of the sky was visible. Captain Gould estimated that this spot was about two hundred feet above the level of the sea. At this rate, he remarked, it will take us five or six hours to reach the top. Well, Fritz replied, it will still be broad daylight when we get there. And if we need be, we shall have time to get down again before night. Quite true, Fritz, the captain replied. But how can we be sure that the gorge is not lengthened by an even greater number of turnings? Or that it does not come out upon the cliff, Frank added. Whether it's at the top or the side of the cliff, let us take things as they come, the boatswayne put in. Above, if it is above, below if it is below. After all, this don't matter much. After a rest of half an hour, the march was resumed. The gorge, which wound about ever more and more, and now, measured ten to twelve feet across, was carpeted with a sandy soil, scattered with pebbles, and without a sign of vegetation. It seemed as though the summit must be an arid waste. For otherwise, some seed or germ would have been carried down by the rain and would have sprouted. But there was nothing here. Not even a patch of lichen or moss. About two o'clock in the afternoon, another halt was called for rest and refreshment. They all sat down in a kind of clearing, where the walls widened out like a bell, and over which the sun was passing on its downward way to the west. The height now attained was estimated at seven or eight hundred feet, which justified the hope of reaching the upper plateau. At three o'clock, the journey was resumed. The difficulties became momentarily greater. The slope was very steep, the ground strone with landslips, which made climbing hard, and there were large stones which slipped and bounded down. The gorge, which had widened out considerably, now formed a ravine, with sides still rising two or three hundred feet in height. They had to help one another and pull each other up by the arms. Everything pointed to the possibility of reaching the plateau now, and the albatross spread out its wings and rose with a spring, as if inviting them to follow. Oh, if only they could have followed in its flight! At last, after incredible efforts, a little before five o'clock, they all stood on top of the cliff. To south, to east, to west, nothing at all was to be seen. Nothing but the vast expanse of ocean. Northwards, the plateau extended over an area which could not be estimated, for its boundary crest could not be seen. Did it present a perpendicular wall on that side, fronting the sea? Would they have to go to the far end of it, to see the horizon of the sea in that direction? Altogether, it was a disappointing sight for people who had hoped to set foot upon some fertile verdant wooden region. The same arid desolation reigned here as at Turtle Bay, which was perhaps less depressing, if not less sterile, since mosses did gem it here and there, and there were plenty of seaweeds on its sandy shore. And when they turned towards the east and west, they looked in vain for the outlines of a continent or island. Everything went to show that this was a lonely island in the middle of these wastes of water. Not a word was uttered by anyone before this dashing of their last hopes. These ghastly solitudes offered no resources. There was nothing to do but descend the ravine, get back to the shore, go into the cave again, settle down there for the long winter months, and wait for rescue from the outside. It was now five o'clock, and there was no time to be lost before the darkness of evening fell. In the gathering shades the walking would not be easy. Yet, since the northern part of the plateau had still to be explored, it seemed best to make the exploration now. Might it not even be well to camp for the night among the rocks scattered all over the surface? But perhaps that would not be prudent. If the weather changed, where could shelter be found? Prudence required that they should go back without delay. Then Fritz made a suggestion. Jenny dear, let James and Frank take you back to the cave with Dolly and Miss Walston and the little chap. You can't spend the night on the cliff. Captain Gould, John Block and I will stay here, and directly at his light tomorrow we will finish our exploration. Jenny did not answer, and Susan and Dolly seemed to be consulting her with their eyes. What Frank suggests is wise, Frank put in, and besides, what good can we hope to do by staying here? Jenny continued to keep silence, with her eyes fixed upon the vast ocean which spread over three-quarters of the horizon, looking perhaps for the sight of a sail, telling herself that a light might appear in the far-offing. The sun was sinking rapidly already among the clouds driven from the north, and it would mean at least two hours march through dense darkness to reach Turtle Bay. Fritz began again. Jenny, I beg you, go. No doubt tomorrow will be enough for us. We shall be back in the evening. Jenny cast a last look all around her. All had risen ready to make a start. The faithful albatross was fluttering from rock to rock, while the other birds, sea-views, goals and divers, flew back to their holes in the cliff, uttering parting screams. The young woman realized that she must do as her husband advised, and regretfully she said, Let us go. Suddenly the boatswain sprang to his feet, and making an ear-trumpet of his hand listened intently. A report, muffled by the distance, was audible from the north. A gun! exclaimed John Block. End of Chapter 9 Chapter 10 of the Castaways of the Flag This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by K. Scott Meyer. The right voice for you.com The Castaways of the Flag by Jules Verne Chapter 10 The Flag on the Peak All stood motionless, their hearts tense with excitement, their eyes turned towards the northern horizon, listening intently, scarcely breathing. In the distance a few more shots rang out, the sound borne to them on the faint breath of the breeze. It's a ship passing off the coast, said Captain Gould at length. Yes, those reports can only come from a ship, John Block replied. When night falls, perhaps we shall see her lights. But couldn't those shots have been fired on land? Jenny suggested. On land, Jenny dear, Fritz exclaimed. You mean there may be some land near this island? I think it is more likely that there is some ship off there to the northward. Captain Gould said again. Why should it have fired a gun? James asked. Yes, why? Jenny echoed him. If the second surmise were the right one, it followed that the ship could not be very far from the shore. Perhaps, when it was quite dark, they would be able to distinguish the flashes from the guns. If they were fired again. They might also see her lights before long. But, since the sound of the guns had come from the north, it was quite possible that the ship would remain invisible, since the sea in that direction could not be seen. No longer did anyone think of going through the ravine back to Turtle Bay. Whatever the weather might be, they would all remain where they were until day. Unfortunately, in the event of a ship coming down on the west or east, lack of wood would prevent them from lighting a fire to signal it. Those distant reports had stirred their hearts to the very depths. They seemed united by them once more to their kind, felt as though this island were now not so utterly isolated. They would have liked to go at once to the far end of the plateau, and to watch the sea to the northward, whence the cannon shots had come. But the evening was getting on, and night would fall quite soon, a night without moon or stars darkened by the low clouds that the breeze was chasing to the south. They could not venture among the rocks in the darkness. It would be difficult enough by day. It was impossible by night. So it became necessary to settle themselves for the night where they were, and everyone got busy. After a long search, the boatsway discovered a kind of recess, a space between two rocks where Jenny, Susan, Dolly, and the little boy could lie close to the ground, as there was no sand or seaweed for them to lie on. They could at least have shelter from the wind if it should freshen, even shelter from the rain if the clouds broke. The provisions were taken from the bags and all ate. There was food for several days in any case, and might not all fear of spending a winter in Turtle Bay soon be banished forever? Night fell. An endless night it seemed, whose long drawn hours no one could ever forget, except little Bob, who slept in his mother's arms. Utter darkness reigned. From the seacoast the lights of a ship would have been visible several miles out to sea. Captain Gould and most of the others insisted on remaining afoot until daybreak. Their eyes incessantly wandered over the east and west and south, in the hope of seeing a vessel passing off the land, and not without fears that she might leave it a stern never to return to it again. Had they been in Turtle Bay at this moment, they would have lighted a fire upon the end of the promontory. Here, that was impossible. No light shone out before the return of dawn. No report broke the silence of the night. No ship came inside of the island. The men began to wonder whether they had not been mistaken, if they had not taken, for the sound of a cannon, what might only have been the roar of some distant storm. No, no, Fritz insisted. We were not mistaken. It really was a cannon fire, out there in the north, a good long way away. I'm sure of it, the bolts went replied. But why should they be firing guns, James Wollstone urged, either in salute or in self-defense, Fritz answered. Perhaps some savages have landed on the island and made an attack, Frank suggested. Anyhow, the boats went answered. It wasn't savages who fired those guns, so the island would be inhabited by Americans or European, James inquired. Well, to begin with, is it only an island? Captain Gould replied. How do we know what is beyond the cliff? Are we perhaps upon some very large island? A very large island in this part of the Pacific? France rejoined. Which one? I don't see, in my opinion, John Block remarked, with much good sense, it is useless to argue about that. The truth is, we don't know whether our island is in the Pacific or the Indian Ocean. Let us have a little patience until dawn, which will break quite soon, and then we will go and see what there is up there to the northward. Perhaps, everything. Perhaps, nothing, said James. Well, the boats went retorted. It will be something to know which. About three o'clock the first glimmer of dawn began to show. Low on the horizon the east grew pale. The weather was very calm, but the wind had dropped towards morning. The clouds, which had been chased by the breeze, were now replaced by a veil of mist, through which the sun eventually broke. The whole sky gradually cleared. The streak of light, drawn sharply across the east, grew wider spread over the line of sky and sea. The glorious sun appeared, throwing long streamers of light over the surface of the waters. Eagerly, all eyes traveled over so much of the ocean as was visible. But no vessel was to be seen. At this moment, Captain Gould was joined by Jenny, Dolly, and by Susan Wolston, who was holding her child's hand. The albatross fluttered to and fro, hopped from rock to rock, and sometimes went quite far off to the northward, as if it were pointing out the way. It looks as if he were showing us where to go, said Jenny. We must follow him, Dolly exclaimed. Not until we've had breakfast, Captain Gould replied. We may have several hours marching in front of us, and we must keep our strength. They shared the provisions hurriedly, so impatient were they to be off, and before seven o'clock they were moving towards the north. It was most difficult walking among the rocks. Captain Gould and the boatswain, in advance, pointed out the practicable paths. Then Fritz came helping Jenny, Frank helping Dolly, and James helping Susan and little Bob. Nowhere did the foot encounter grass or sand. It was all a chaotic clumulation of stones, what might have been a vast field of scattered rocks or more rains. Over it birds were flying, frigate birds, sea mews, and sea swallows, in whose flight the albatross sometimes joined. They marched for an hour at the cost of immense fatigue, and had accomplished little more than two miles, steadily uphill. There was no change in the appearance of the nature of the plateau. It was absolutely necessary to call a halt in order to get a little rest. Fritz then suggested that he should go on ahead with Captain Gould and John Block. That would spare the others fresh fatigue. The proposal was unanimously rejected. They would not separate. They all wanted to be their win, or if the sea became visible to the northward. The march was resumed about nine o'clock. The mist tempered the heat of the sun. At this season it might have been insupportable on this stony waste, on which the rays fell almost vertically at noon. While still extending towards the north, the plateau was widening out to east and west, and the sea, which so far had been visible in both these directions, would soon be lost a sight. And still there was not a tree, not a trace of vegetation, nothing but the same sterility and solitude. A few low hills rose here and there ahead. At eleven o'clock a kind of cone showed its naked peak, towering some three hundred feet above this portion of the plateau. We must get to the top of that, said Jenny. Yes, Fritz replied. From there we shall be able to see over a much wider horizon. But it may be a rough climb. It probably would be, but so irresistible was the general desire to ascertain the actual situation that no one would have consented to remain behind, however great the fatigue might be. Yet who could tell whether those poor people were not marching to a last disappointment, to the shattering of their last hope? They resumed their journey towards the peak, which now was about half a mile away. Every step was difficult, and progress was painfully slow among the hundreds of rocks which must be scrambled over or gone around. It was more like a chamois track than a footpath. The boatswain insisted on carrying little Bob, and his mother gave the child to him. Fritz and Jenny, Frank and Dolly, and James and Susan kept near together, that the men might help the women over the dangerous spits. It was past two o'clock in the afternoon when the base of the cone was reached. They had taken three hours to cover less than a mile and three quarters since the last halt, but they were obliged to rest again. The stop was of short duration, and in twenty minutes the climbing began. It had occurred to Captain Gould to go around the peak, to avoid a tiring climb, but its base was seen to be impassable, and after all, the height was not great. At the outset the foot found hold upon a soil where scanty plants were growing, clumps of stone crops to which the fingers could cling. Half an hour suffice to bring them halfway up the peak. Then Fritz, who was in front, let a cry of surprise escape him, all stopped looking at him. What was that up there? he said, pointing to the extreme top of the cone. A stick was standing up right there, a stick five or six feet long fixed between the highest rocks. Can it be a branch of a tree with all the leaves stripped off? said Frank. No, that is not a branch, Captain Gould declared. It is a stick, a walking stick, Fritz declared, a stick which has been set up there. And to which a flag has been fastened, the boat's weight added, and the flag is still there. A flag at the summit of this peak, yes, and the breeze was beginning to stir the flag, although from this distance the colors could not be identified. Then there are inhabitants on this island, Frank exclaimed. Not a doubt of it, Jenny declared. Or, if not, Fritz went on, it is clear at any rate that someone has taken possession of it. What island is this then? James Wollstone demanded. Or rather, what flag is this? Captain Gould added. On English flag, the boatswain cried. Look, red bunting with the yacht in the corner! The wind had just spread out the flag, and it certainly was a British flag. How they sprang from rock to rock! A hundred and fifty feet still separated them from the summit, but they were no longer conscious of fatigue, did not try to recover their wind but hurried up without stopping, carried along by what seemed supernatural strength. At length, just before three o'clock, Captain Gould and his companion stood side-by-side on the top of the peak. Their disappointment was bitter when they turned their eyes towards the north. A thick mist hid the horizon. It was impossible to discover whether the plateau ended on this side in a perpendicular cliff, as it did at Turtle Bay, or whether it spread much further beyond. Through this dense fog nothing could be seen. Above the layer of the vapor, the sky was still bright with the rays of the sun, now beginning to decline into the west. Well, they would camp there and wait until the breeze had driven the fog away. Not one of them would go back without having examined the northern portion of the island. For was there not a British flag there floating in the breeze? Did it not say as plainly as words, did it not say as plainly as words that this land was known? That it must figure in latitude and longitude on the English charts? And those guns that they had heard the day before? Who could say that they did not come from ships saluting the flag as they moved by? Who could say that there was not some harbor on this coast, that there were not ships at anchor there at this very moment? And even if this land were merely a small islet, would there be anything wonderful in Great Britain having taken possession of it when it lay on the confines of the Indian and the Pacific Oceans? Alternatively, why would it not belong to the Australian continent, so little of which was known in this direction, which was part of the British domains? As they talked a bird's cry rang out, followed by a rapid beating of wings. It was Jenny's albatross, which had just taken flight and was speeding away through the mist toward the north. Wither was the bird going, toward some distant shore? Its departure produced a feeling of depression, even of anxiety. It seemed like desertion. But time was passing. The intermittent breeze was not strong enough to disperse the fog, whose heavy scrolls were rolling at the base of the cone. Would the night fall before the northern horizon had been laid bare to view? But no, all hope was not yet lost. As the mists began to decrease, Fritz was able to make out that the cone dominated not a cliff, but long slopes which probably extended as far as the level of the sea. Then the wind freshened, the folds of the flag stiffened, and nearly leveled with the mists, everyone could see the declivity for a distance of a hundred yards. It was no longer a mere accumulation of rocks. It was the other side of a mountain, where showed growths on which they had not set eyes for many a long month. How they feasted their sight on these wide stretches of verdue, on the shrubs, aloes, majestic trees, and myrtles, which were growing everywhere. No, they would not wait for the fog to disperse, and besides, it was imperative that they should reach the base of the mountain before night enveloped them in its shadows. But now, eight or nine hundred feet below, through the rifts in the mist, appear the top of the foliage of a forest which extended for several miles. Then a vast and fertile plain, strone with clumps of trees and groves, with broad meadows and a vast grasslands traversed by watercourses, the largest of which ran eastward toward a bay in the coastline. On the east and west the sea extended to the furthest limit of the horizon. Only on the north was it wanting to make of this land, not an island, but a large island. Finally, very far away could be seen the faint outlines of a rocky rampart running from west to east. Was that the edge of a coast? Let us go! Let us go! cried Fritz. Yes, let us go! Frank echoed him. We shall be down before night. And we will pass the night in the shelter of the trees, Captain Gould added. The last mist cleared away, then the ocean was revealed over a distance which might be as much as eighteen or twenty miles. This was an island. It was certainly an island. They then saw that the northern coast was indented by three bays of unequal size, the largest of which laid to the northwest, another to the north, while the smallest opened up to the northeast, and was more deeply cut into the coastline than the other two. The arm of the sea, which gave access to it, was bound by two distant capes, one of which had at its end a lofty promontory, no other land showed out to sea. Not a sail appeared on the horizon. Looking back towards the south, the eye was held by the top of the crest of the cliff which enclosed Turtle Bay, five miles or so away. What a contrast between the desert region, which Captain Gould and his companions had just crossed, and the land which now lay before their eyes. Here was a fertile and variegated champagne, forests, plains, everywhere the luxuriant vegetation of the tropics. But nowhere was there a hamlet or a village or a single habitation, and then a cry, a cry of sudden revelation which he could not have restrained, broke from the breast of Fritz, while both his arms were stretched out toward the north. New Switzerland! Yes, New Switzerland! Frank cried in his turn. New Switzerland! Echoed Jenny and Dolly in tones broken by emotion. And so, in front of them, beyond the forest and beyond those prairies, the rocky barrier that they could see was the rampart through which the defile of Cluce opened onto the green valley. Beyond lay the promised land, with its woods and farms and Jackal River. There was Falconhurst in the heart of its mangrove wood, and beyond rock castle and the trees in its orchards. That bay on the left was Pearl Bay, and farther away, like a small black speck, was the burning rock, crowned with the smoke from its crater. There was Nautilus Bay, with false hope point projecting from it, and Deliverance Bay, protected by Sharks Island. And why should it not have been the guns from that battery whose report they had heard the day before? For there was no ship to be seen either in the bay or out in the open sea. Joyful exceedingly, with throbbing hearts and eyes went with tears of gratitude, all of them joined with Frank in the prayer which went up to God.