 "'This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. The Mysterious Island, by Jules Verne, Part 3, Chapter 4. "'She is blown up!' cried Herbert. "'Yes, blown up, just as if Ayrton had set fire to the powder!' returned Pencroft, throwing himself into the lift, together with Nebb and the Lad. "'But what has happened?' asked Gideon Spillet, quite stunned by this unexpected catastrophe. "'Oh, this time we shall know,' answered the engineer quickly. "'What shall we know?' "'Later, later, come, Spillet. The main point is that these pirates have been exterminated.' Then Cyrus Harding, hurrying away the reporter and Ayrton, joined Pencroft, Nebb and Herbert on the beach. Nothing could be seen of the brig, not even her masts. After having been raised by the waterspout, she had fallen on her side, and had sunk in that position, doubtless in consequence of some enormous leak. But as in that place the channel was not more than twenty feet in depth, it was certain that the sides of the submerged brig would reappear at low water. A few things from the wreck floated on the surface of the water. A raft could be seen consisting of spare spars, coupes of poultry with their occupants still living, boxes and barrels which gradually came to the surface, after having escaped through the hatchways. But no pieces of the wreck appeared, neither planks from the deck, nor timber from the hull, which rendered the sudden disappearance of the speedy perfectly inexplicable. However, the two masts, which had been broken and escaped from the shrouds and stays, came up, and with their sails, some furrowed, and the others spread. But it was not necessary to wait for the tide to bring up these riches, and Ayrton and Pencroft jumped into the boat with the intention of towing the pieces of wreck, either to the beach or to the islet. But just as they were shoving off, an observation from Gideon Spillett arrested them. What about those six convicts who disembarked on the right bank of the mercy? said he. In fact, it would not do to forget that the six men, whose boat had gone to pieces on the rocks, had landed at Flotson Point. They looked in that direction. None of the fugitives were visible. It was probable that, having seen their vessel engulfed in the channel, they had fled into the interior of the island. We will deal with them later, said Harding. As they are armed, they will still be dangerous, but as it is six against six, the chances are equal. To the most pressing business first. Ayrton and Pencroft pulled vigorously towards the wreck. The sea was calm, and the tide very high, as there had been a new moon but two days before. A whole hour at least would elapse before the hull of the brig could emerge from the water of the channel. Ayrton and Pencroft were able to fasten the masts and spars by means of ropes, the ends of which were carried to the beach. There, by the united efforts of the settlers, the pieces of wreck were hauled up. Then the boat picked up all that was floating, ropes, barrels, and boxes, which were immediately carried to the chimneys. Several bodies floated also. Among them Ayrton recognized that of Bob Harvey, which he pointed out to his companion, saying with some emotion, That is what I have been, Pencroft. But what you are no longer, brave Ayrton, returned the sailor warmly. It was singular enough that so few bodies floated. Only five or six were counted, which were already being carried by the current towards the open sea. Very probably the convicts had not had time to escape, and the ship lying over on her side, the greater number of them had remained below. Now the current, and by carrying the bodies of these miserable men out to sea, would spare the columnists' sad task of burying them in some corner of their island. For two hours Cyrus Harding and his companions were solely occupied in hauling up the spars on to the sand, and then in spreading the sails which were perfectly uninjured to dry. They spoke little, for they were absorbed in their work. But what thoughts occupied their minds? The possession of this brig, or rather all that she contained, was a perfect mine of wealth. In fact a ship is like a little world of miniature, and the stores of the colony would be increased by a large number of useful articles. It would be on a large scale, equivalent to the chest found at Flotsam Point. And besides, thought Pencroft, why should it be impossible to refloat the brig? If she has only a leak, that may be stopped up. A vessel from three to four hundred tons. Why, she is a regular ship compared to our Bonaventure, and we could go a long distance in her. We could go anywhere we liked. Captain Harding, Ayrton, and I must examined her. She would be well worth the trouble. In fact, if the brig were still fit to navigate, the columnist's chances of returning to their native land were singularly increased. But, to decide this important question, it was necessary to wait until the tide was quite low, so that every part of the brig's hull might be examined. When their treasures had been safely conveyed on shore, Harding and his companions agreed to devote some minutes to breakfast. They were almost famished. Fortunately the larder was not far off, and Neb was noted for being an expeditious cook. They breakfasted, therefore, near the chimneys, and during their repast, as may be supposed, nothing was talked of but the event which had so miraculously saved the colony. "'Miraculous is the word,' repeated Pencroft, for it must be acknowledged that those rascals blew up just at the right moment. Granite House was beginning to be uncomfortable as a habitation. "'And can you guess, Pencroft?' asked the reporter, how it happened, for what can have occasioned the explosion? "'Oh, Mr. Spillett, nothing is more simple,' answered Pencroft. "'A convict vessel is not disciplined like a man of war. Convicts are not sailors. Of course the powder magazine was open, and as they were firing incessantly, some careless or clumsy fellow just blew up the vessel.' "'Captain Harding,' said Herbert, "'what astonishes me is that the explosion has not produced more effect. The report was not loud, and besides there are so few planks and timbers torn out. It seems as if the ship had rather foundered than blown up.' "'Does that astonish you, my boy?' asked the engineer. "'Yes, Captain.' "'And it astonishes me also,' Herbert,' replied he. "'But when we visit the Hall of the Brig, we shall no doubt find the explanation of the matter.' "'Why, Captain,' said Pencroft, "'you don't suppose that the speedy simply foundered like a ship which has struck on a rock?' "'Why not?' observed Neb. "'If there are rocks in the channel.' "'Nonsense, Neb!' answered Pencroft. "'You did not look at the right moment. An instant before she sank, the Brig, as I saw perfectly well, rose on an enormous wave, and fell back on her larbored side. Now, if she had only struck, she would have sunk quietly and gone to the bottom like an honest vessel.' "'It was just because she was not an honest vessel,' returned Neb.' "'Well, we shall soon see,' Pencroft,' said the engineer. "'We shall soon see,' rejoined the sailor. "'But I would wager my head there are no rocks in the channel. Look here, Captain, to speak candidly. Do you mean to say that there is anything marvellous in the occurrence?' Cyrus Harding did not answer. "'At any rate,' said Gideon Spillett, "'whether rock or explosion, you will agree, Pencroft, that it occurred just in the nick of time.' "'Yes, yes,' replied the sailor. "'But that is not the question. I ask Captain Harding if he sees anything supernatural in all this.' "'I cannot say, Pencroft,' said the engineer. "'That is all the answer I can make.'" A reply which did not satisfy Pencroft at all. He stuck to an explosion and did not wish to give it up. He would never consent to admit that in that channel, with its fine sandy bed, just like the beach, which he had often crossed at low water, there could be an unknown rock. And besides, at the time the brig foundered, it was high water. That is to say, there was enough water to carry the vessel clear over any rocks which would not be uncovered at low tide. Therefore there could not have been a collision. Therefore the vessel had not struck. So she had blown up. And it must be confessed that the sailor's arguments were reasonable. Towards half-past one the colonists embarked on the boat to visit the wreck. It was to be regretted that the brig's two boats had not been saved, but one, as has been said, had gone to pieces at the mouth of the mercy and was absolutely useless. The other had disappeared when the brig went down and had not again been seen, having doubtless been crushed. The hull of the speedy was just beginning to issue from the water. The brig was lying right over on her side. For her mass being broken, pressed down by the weight of the ballast displaced by the shock, the keel was visible along her whole length. She had been regularly turned over by the inexplicable but frightful submarine action, which had been at the same time manifested by an enormous water spout. The settlers rode round the hull, and in proportion as the tide went down they could ascertain, if not the cause which had occasioned the catastrophe, at least the effect produced. Towards the boughs, on both sides of the keel, seven or eight feet from the beginning of the stem, the sides of the brig were frightfully torn. Over a length of at least twenty feet there opened two large leaks which would be impossible to stop up. Not only had the copper sheathing and the planks disappeared, reduced no doubt to powder, but also the ribs, the iron bolts, and tree nails which united them. From the entire length of the hull to the stern the false keel had been separated with an unaccountable violence, and the keel itself, torn from the car-line in several places, was split in all its length. I have a notion, exclaimed Pencroft, that this vessel will be difficult to get to float again. It will be impossible, said Ayrton. At any rate, observed Gideon's spillet to the sailor, the explosion, if there has been one, has produced singular effects. It has split the lower part of the hull, instead of blowing up the deck and top sides. These great wrents appear rather to have been made by a rock than by the explosion of a powder magazine. There is not a rock in the channel, answered the sailor. I will admit anything you like, except the rock. Let us try to penetrate into the interior of the brig, said the engineer. Perhaps we shall then know what to think of the cause of her destruction. This was the best thing to be done, and it was agreed, besides, to take an inventory of all the treasures on board, and to arrange for their preservation. Access to the interior of the brig was now easy. The tide was still going down, and the deck was practicable. The ballast, composed of heavy masses of iron, had broken through in several places. The noise of the sea could be heard as it rushed out at the hulls in the hull. Cyrus Harding and his companions, hatchets in hand, advanced along the shattered deck. Cases of all sorts encumbered it, and as they had been but a very short time in the water, their contents were perhaps uninjured. They then busied themselves in placing all this cargo in safety. The water would not return for several hours, and these hours must be employed in the most profitable way. Ayrton and Pencroft had, at the entrance made in the hull, discovered tackle, which would serve to hoist up the barrels and chests. The boat received them and transported them to the shore. They took the articles as they came, intending to sort them afterwards. At any rate the settlers saw at once, with extreme satisfaction, the break possessed a very varied cargo, and assortment of all sorts of articles, utensils, manufactured goods, and tools, such as the ships which make the great coasting trade of Polynesia are usually laden with. It was probable that they would find a little of everything, and they agreed that it was exactly what was necessary for the colony of Lincoln Island. However, and Cyrus Harding observed it in silent astonishment. Not only, as has been said, had the hull of the brig enormously suffered from the shock, whatever it was, that had occasioned the catastrophe, but the interior arrangements had been destroyed, especially towards the bows. Partitions and stanchions were smashed, as if some tremendous shell had burst in the interior of the brig. The colonists could easily go for a naft, after having removed the cases as they were extricated. They were not heavy bales, which would have been difficult to remove, but simple packages, of which the stowage besides was no longer recognizable. The colonists then reached the stern of the brig, the part formally surmounted by the poop. It was there that, following Ayrton's directions, they must look for the powder magazine. Cyrus Harding thought that it had not exploded, that it was possible some barrels might be saved, and that the powder, which is usually enclosed in metal coverings, might not have suffered from contact with water. This in fact was just what had happened. They extricated from among a large number of shot twenty barrels, the insides of which were lined with copper. Pencroff was convinced, by the evidence of his own eyes, that the destruction of the speedy could not be attributed to an explosion. That part of the hull, in which the magazine was situated, was, moreover, that which had suffered least. It may be so, said the obstinate sailor, but as to a rock there is not one in the channel. Then how did it happen? asked Herbert. I don't know, answered Pencroff. Captain Harding doesn't know, and nobody knows, or ever will know. Several hours had passed during these researches, and the tide began to flow. Work must be suspended for the present. There was no fear of the brig being carried away by the sea, for she was already fixed as firmly as if moored by her anchors. They could therefore, without inconvenience, wait until the next day to resume operations. But, as to the vessel herself, she was doomed, and it would be best to hasten to save the remains of her hull, as she would not be long in disappearing in the quicksands of the channel. It was now five o'clock in the evening. It had been a hard day's work for the men. They ate with good appetite, and not with standing their fatigue. They could not resist, after dinner, their desire of inspecting the cases which composed the cargo of the speedy. Most of them contained clothes, which, as may be believed, were well received. There was enough to clothe a whole colony, linen for every one's use, shoes for every one's feet. We are too rich, exclaimed Pencroft. But what are we going to do with all this? In every moment burst forth the hurrahs of the delighted sailor when he caught sight of the barrels of gunpowder, firearms, and side-arms, balls of cotton, implements of husbandry, carpenters, joiners, and blacksmith's tools, and boxes of all kinds of seeds, not in the least injured by their short sojourn in the water. Ah, two years before, how these things would have been prized. And now, even though the industrious colonists had provided themselves with tools, these treasures would find their use. There was no want of space in the storerooms of Gratted House. But that daytime would not allow them to stow away the whole. It would not do also to forget that the six survivors of the speedy's crew had landed on the island, for they were in all probability scoundrels of the deepest dye, and it was necessary that the colonists should be on their guard against them. Although the bridges over the mercy were raised, the convicts would not be stopped by a river or a stream, and rendered desperate these wretches would be capable of anything. They would see later what plan it would be best to follow. But in the meantime it was necessary to mount guard over cases and packages heaped up near the chimneys, and thus the settlers employed themselves in turn during the night. The morning came, however, without the convicts having attempted any attack. Master Jup and Top, on guard at the foot of Gratted House, would have quickly given the alarm. The three following days, the 19th, 20th, and 21st of October, were employed in saving everything of value, or of any use whatever, either from the cargo or rigging of the brig. At low tide they overhauled the hold, at high tide they stowed away the rescued articles. A great part of the copper sheathing had been torn from the hull, which every day sank lower. But before the sand had swallowed the heavy things which had fallen through the bottom, Ayrton and Pencroft, diving to the bed of the channel, recovered the chains and anchors of the brig, the iron of Herbalist, and even four guns, which, floated by means of empty casks, were brought to shore. It may be seen that the arsenal of the colony had gained by the wreck, as well as the storerooms of Gratted House. Pencroft, always enthusiastic in his projects, already spoke of constructing a battery to command the channel in the mouth of the river. With four guns he engaged to prevent any fleet, however powerful it might be, from venturing into the waters of Lincoln Island. In the meantime, when nothing remained of the brig but a useless hulk, bad weather came on, which soon finished her. Cyrus Harding had intended to blow her up, so as to collect the remains on the shore. But a strong gale from the northeast and a heavy sea compelled him to economize his powder. In fact, on the night of the twenty-third, the hull entirely broke up, and some of the wreck was cast up on the beach. As to the papers on board, it is useless to say that, although he carefully searched the lockers of the poop, Harding did not discover any trace of them. The pirates had evidently destroyed everything that concerned either the captain or the owners of the speedy, and as the name of her port was not painted on her counter, there was nothing which would tell them her nationality. However, by the shape of her boats, Ayrton and Pencroft believed that the brig was of English build. A week after the catastrophe, or rather after the fortunate, though inexplicable, event to which the colony owed its preservation, nothing more could be seen of the vessel, even at low tide. The wreck had disappeared, and Granite House was enriched by nearly all it had contained. However the mystery which enveloped its strange destruction would doubtless never have been cleared away if, on the thirtieth of November, Neb, strolling on the beach, had not found a piece of a thick iron cylinder bearing traces of explosion. The edges of the cylinder were twisted and broken, as if they had been subjected to the action of some explosive substance. He brought this piece of metal to his master, who was then occupied with his companions in the workshop of the chimneys. Cyrus Harding examined the cylinder attentively, then turning to Pencroft. "'You persist, my friend,' said he, in maintaining that the speedy was not lost in consequence of a collision?' "'Yes, Captain,' answered the sailor, "'You know as well as I do that there are no rocks in the channel?' But suppose she had run against this piece of iron,' said the engineer, showing the broken cylinder. "'Why, that bit of pipe!' exclaimed Pencroft, in a tone of perfect incredulity.' "'My friends,' resumed Harding, "'you remember that before she foundered the big rose on the summit of a regular water-spout?' "'Yes, Captain,' replied Herbert. "'Well, would you like to know what occasion that water-spout?' "'It was this,' said the engineer, holding up the broken tube. "'That?' returned Pencroft. "'Yes, this cylinder is all the remains of a torpedo.' "'A torpedo!' exclaimed the engineer's companions. "'And who put the torpedo there?' demanded Pencroft, who did not like to yield. "'All that I can tell you is that it was not I,' answered Cyrus Harding. "'But it was there, and you have been able to judge of its incomparable power.'" End of chapter. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. The Mysterious Island, by Jules Verne. Part 3, Chapter 5. So then, all was explained by the submarine explosion of this torpedo. Cyrus Harding could not be mistaken, as, during the War of the Union, he had had occasion to try these terrible engines of destruction. It was under the action of this cylinder, charged with some explosive substance, nitroglycerin, picrate, or some other material of the same nature, that the water of the channel had been raised like a dome, the bottom of the brig crushed in, and she had sunk instantly, the damage done to her hull being so considerable that it was impossible to refloat her. The speedy had not been able to withstand a torpedo that would have destroyed an ironclad as easily as a fishing-boat. Yes, all was explained, everything, except the presence of the torpedo in the waters of the channel. My friends then, said Cyrus Harding, we can no longer be in doubt as to the presence of a mysterious being, a castaway like us, perhaps, abandoned on our island, and I say this in order that Ayrton may be acquainted with all the strange events which have occurred during these two years. Who this beneficent stranger is, whose intervention has, so fortunately for us, been manifested on many occasions, I cannot imagine. What his object can be enacting thus, in concealing himself after rendering us so many services, I cannot understand. But his services are not the less real, and are of such a nature that only a man possessed of prodigious power could render them. Ayrton is indebted to him as much as we are, for, if it was the stranger who saved me from the waves after the fall from the balloon, evidently it was he who wrote the document, who placed the bottle in the channel, and who has made known to us the situation of our companion. I will add that it was he who guided that chest, provided with everything we wanted, and stranded it on Flotson Point, that it was he who lighted that fire on the heights of the island which permitted you to land, that it was he who fired that bullet found in the body of the peccary, that it was he who plunged that torpedo into the channel which destroyed the brig, in a word, that all those inexplicable events for which we could not assign a reason are due to this mysterious being. For whoever he may be, whether shipwrecked or exiled on our island, we shall be ungrateful if we think ourselves freed from gratitude towards him. We have contracted a debt, and I hope that we shall one day pay it. You are right in speaking thus, my dear Cyrus, reply Gideon Spillet. Yes, there is an almost all-powerful being, hidden in some part of the island, and whose influence has been singularly useful to our colony. I will add that the unknown appears to possess means of action which border on the supernatural, if in the events of practical life the supernatural were recognizable. Is it he who is in secret communication with us by the well in granted house, and has he thus a knowledge of all our plans? Was it he who threw us that bottle when the vessel made her first cruise? Was it he who threw top out of the lake and killed the dugong? Was it he who as everything leads us to believe saved you from the waves, and that under circumstances in which any one else would not have been able to act? If it was he, he possesses a power which renders him master of the elements. The reporter's reasoning was just, and everyone felt it to be so. Yes, rejoined Cyrus Harding, if the intervention of a human being is not more questionable for us, I agree that he has at his disposal means of action beyond those possessed by humanity. There is a mystery still, but if we discover the man, the mystery will be discovered also. The question then is, ought we to respect the incognito of this generous being, or ought we to do everything to find him out? What is your opinion on the matter? My opinion, said Pencroft, is that whoever he may be, he is a brave man, and he has my esteem. Be it so, answered Harding, but that is not an answer, Pencroft. Master, then said Neb, my idea is that we may search as long as we like for this gentleman whom you are talking about, but that we shall not discover him till he pleases. That's not bad what you say, Neb, observed Pencroft. I am of Neb's opinion, said Gideon Spillett, but that is no reason for not attempting the adventure. Whether we find this mysterious being or not, we shall at least have fulfilled our duty towards him. And you, my boy, give us your opinion, said the engineer, turning to Herbert. Ah! cried Herbert, his countenance full of animation. How I should like to thank him! He who saved you first, and who has now saved us! Of course, my boy, replied Pencroft, so would I in all of us. I am not inquisitive, but I would give one of my eyes to see this individual face to face. It seems to me that he must be handsome, tall, strong, with a splendid beard, radiant hair, that he must be seated on clouds, a great ball in his hands. But Pencroft, answered Spillett, you were describing a picture of the creator. Possibly, Mr. Spillett, replied the sailor, but that is how I imagine him. And you, Ayrton, asked the engineer. Captain Harding, replied Ayrton, I can give you no better advice in this matter. Whatever you do will be best. When you wish me to join you in your researches, I am ready to follow you. I thank you, Ayrton, answered Cyrus Harding, but I should like a more direct answer to the question I put to you. You are our companion. You have already endangered your life several times for us. And you as well as the rest ought to be consulted in the matter of any important decision. Speak therefore. Captain Harding, replied Ayrton, I think that we ought to do everything to discover this unknown benefactor. Perhaps he is alone. Perhaps he is suffering. Perhaps he has a life to be renewed. I, too, as you said, have a debt of gratitude to pay him. It was he. It could be only he who must have come to Tabor Island, who found there the wretch you knew, and who made known to you that there was an unfortunate man there to be saved. Therefore it is thanks to him that I have become a man again. No, I will never forget him. That is settled then, said Cyrus Harding. We will begin our researches as soon as possible. We will not leave a corner of the island unexplored. We will search into its most secret recesses, and will hope that our unknown friend will pardon us in consideration of our intentions. For several days the columnists were actively employed in hay-making and the harvest, before putting their project of exploring the yet unknown parts of the island into execution, they wished to get all possible work finished. It was also the time for collecting the various vegetables from the Tabor Island plants. All was stowed away, and happily there was no water room in a granted house in which they might have housed all the treasures of the island. The products of the colony were there, methodically arranged, and in a safe place, as may be believed, sheltered as much from animals as from men. There was no fear of damp in the middle of that thick mass of granite. Many natural excavations situated in the upper passage were enlarged, either by pickaxe or mine, and granted house thus became a general warehouse, containing all the provisions, arms, tools, and spare utensils, in a word, all the stores of the colony. As to the guns obtained from the brig, they were pretty pieces of coordinates, which, at Pencroft's entreaty, were hoisted by means of tackle and pulleys right up into Granite House. Embrasures were made between the windows, and the shining muzzles of the guns could soon be seen through the granite cliff. From this height they commanded all Union Bay. It was like a little Gibraltar, and any vessel anchored off the islet would inevitably be exposed to the fire of this aerial battery. Captain, said Pencroft one day, it was the eighth of November. Now that our fortifications are finished, it would be a good thing if we tried the range of our guns. Do you think that is useful? asked the engineer. It is more than useful. It is necessary. Without that, how are we to know to what distance we can send one of those pretty shot with which we are provided? Try them, Pencroft, replied the engineer. However, I think that in making the experiment we ought to employ not the ordinary powder, the supply of which I think should remain untouched, but the peroxel which will never fail us. Can the cannons support the shock of the peroxel? asked the reporter, who was not less anxious than Pencroft to try the artillery of Granite House. I believe so. However, added the engineer. We will be prudent. The engineer was right in thinking that the guns were of excellent make, made of forged steel and breech loaders. They ought consequently to be able to bear a considerable charge, and also have an enormous range. In fact, as regards practical effect, the transit described by the ball ought to be as extended as possible, and this tension could only be obtained under the condition that the projectile should be impelled with a very great initial velocity. Now, said Harding to his companions, the initial velocity is in proportion to the quantity of powder used. In the fabrication of these pieces, everything depends on employing a metal with the highest possible power of resistance, and steel is incontestably that metal of all others which resists the best. I have, therefore, reason to believe that our guns will bear without risk the expansion of the peroxial gas, and will give excellent results. We shall be a great deal more certain of that when we have tried them, answered Pencroft. It is unnecessary to say that the four cannons were in perfect order. Since they had been taken from the water, the sailor had bestowed great care upon them, how many hours he had spent in rubbing, greasing, and polishing them, and in cleaning the mechanism. And now the pieces were as brilliant as if they had been on board a frigate of the United States Navy. On this day, therefore, in the presence of all the members of the colony, including Master Jupe and Top, the four cannon were successively tried. They were charged with peroxial, taking into consideration its explosive power, which has, has been said, is four times that of ordinary powder. The projectile to be fired was cylindroconic. Pencroft, holding the end of the quick match, stood ready to fire. At hearting signal, he fired. The shot passing over the islet fell into the sea at a distance which could not be calculated with exactitude. The second gun was pointed at the rocks at the end of Flotson Point, and the shot striking a sharp rock nearly three miles from Granite House made it fly into splinters. It was Herbert who had pointed this gun and fired it, and very proud he was of his first shot. Pencroft only was prouder than he, such a shot, the honor of which belonged to his dear boy. The third shot, aimed this time at the downs forming the upper side of Union Bay, struck the sand at a distance of four miles, then having ricocheted, was lost in the sea and a cloud of spray. For the fourth piece, Cyrus Harding slightly increased the charge, so as to try its extreme range. Then all standing aside for fear of its bursting, the match was lighted by means of a long cord. A tremendous report was heard, but the piece head held good, and the colonists rushing to the windows saw the shot graze the rocks of mandible cape nearly five miles from Granite House, and disappear in sharp gulf. "'Well, Captain,' exclaimed Pencroft, whose cheers might have rivaled the reports themselves, "'what do you say of our battery? All the pirates in the Pacific have only to present themselves before Granite House. Not one can land there now without our permission.' "'Believe me, Pencroft,' replied the engineer. "'It would be better not to have to make the experiment.' "'Well,' said the sailor, "'what ought to be done with regard to those six villains who are roaming about the island? Are we to leave them to overrun our forests, our fields, our plantations? These pirates are regular jaguars, and it seems to me we ought not to hesitate to treat them as such. What do you think, Ayrton?' added Pencroft, turning to his companion. Ayrton hesitated at first to reply, and Cyrus Harding regretted that Pencroft had so thoughtlessly put this question. And he was much moved when Ayrton replied in a humble tone. "'I have been one of those jaguars, Mr. Pencroft. I have no right to speak.' And with a slow step he walked away. Pencroft understood. "'What a brute I am,' he exclaimed. "'Poor Ayrton! He has as much right to speak here as any one.' "'Yes,' said Gideon's fillet. But his reserve does him honour. Gideon is right to respect the feeling which he has about his sad past. "'Certainly, Mr. Spillett,' answered the sailor. "'And there is no fear of my doing so again. I would rather bite my tongue off than cause Ayrton any pain.' But to return to the question. It seems to me that these ruffians have no right to any pity, and that we ought to rid the island of them as soon as possible.' "'Is that your opinion, Pencroft?' asked the engineer. "'Quite, my opinion. And before hunting them mercilessly, you would not wait until they had committed some fresh act of hostility against us?' "'Isn't what they have done already enough?' asked Pencroft, who did not understand these scruples. "'They may adopt other sentiments,' said Harding, and perhaps repent. "'They repent!' exclaimed the sailor, shrugging his shoulders. "'Pencroft, think of Ayrton,' said Herbert, taking the sailor's hand. He became an honest man again.' Pencroft looked at his companions one after the other. He had never thought of his proposal being met with any objection. His rough nature could not allow that they ought to come to terms with the rascals who had landed on the island, with Bob Harvey's accomplices, the murderers of the crew of the speedy. And they looked upon them as wild beasts which ought to be destroyed without delay and without remorse. "'Come,' said he, every body is against me. You wish to be generous to those villains. Very well. I hope we may not repent it.' "'What danger shall we run?' said Herbert, if we take care to be always on our guard?' "'Hmmm!' observed the reporter, who had not given any decided opinion. They are six and well-armed. If they each lay hidden a corner, and each fired at one of us, they would soon be masters of the colony.' "'Why have they not done so?' said Herbert. No doubt because it was not their interest to do it. Besides, we are six also.' "'Well, well!' replied Pencroft, whom no reasoning could have convinced. Let us leave these good people to do what they like, and don't think anything more about them. "'Come, Pencroft,' said Neb, don't make yourself out so bad as all that. Suppose one of these unfortunate men were here before you. Within good range of your gun, you would not fire.' "'I would fire on him as I would on a mad dog, Neb,' replied Pencroft coldly. "'Pencroft,' said the engineer, you have always shown much deference to my advice. Will you, in this matter, yield to me?' "'I will do as you please,' Captain Harding,' answered the sailor, who was not at all convinced. "'Very well, wait, and we will not attack them unless we are attacked first.' Thus their behaviour towards the pirates was agreed upon, although Pencroft augured nothing good from it. They were not to attack them, but were to be on their guard. After all, the island was large and fertile. If any sentiment of honesty yet remained in the bottom of their hearts, these wretches might perhaps be reclaimed. Was it not their interest in the situation in which they found themselves to begin a new life? At any rate, for humanity's sake alone, it would be right to wait. The colonists would no longer as before be able to go and come without fear. Neither to, they had only wild beasts to guard against. And now six convicts of the worst description, perhaps, were roaming over their island. It was serious, certainly, and to less brave men it would have been security lost. No matter. At present the colonists had reason on their side against Pencroft. Would they be right in the future? That remained to be seen. CHAPTER VI However, the chief business of the colonists was to make that complete exploration of the island which had been decided upon, and which would have two objects, to discover the mysterious being whose existence was now indisputable, and at the same time to find out what had become of the pirates, what retreat they had chosen, what sort of life they were leading, and what was to be feared from them. Cyrus Harding wished to set out without delay. But as the expedition would be of some day's duration it appeared best to load the cart, with different materials and tools, in order to facilitate the organization of the encampments. One of the onagers, however, having hurt its leg, could not be harnessed at present, and a few days rest was necessary. The departure was, therefore, put off for a week until the twentieth of November. The month of November in this latitude corresponds to the month of May and the northern zones. It was, therefore, the fine season. The sun was entering the tropic of Capricorn, and gave the longest days in the year. The time was, therefore, very favorable for the projected expedition, which, if it did not accomplish its principal object, would at any rate be fruitful in discoveries, especially of natural productions, since Harding proposed to explore those dense forests of the far west, which stretched to the extremity of the serpentine peninsula. During the nine days which preceded their departure, it was agreed that the work on prospect heights should be finished off. Moreover it was necessary for Ayrton to return to the corral, where the domesticated animals required his care. It was decided that he should spend two days there and return to Granite House after having liberally supplied the stables. As he was about to start, Harding asked him if he would not like one of them to accompany him, observing that the island was less safe than formerly. Ayrton replied that this was unnecessary, as he was enough for the work, and that besides he apprehended no danger. If anything occurred at the corral or in the neighborhood, he could instantly warn the columnists by sending a telegram to Granite House. Ayrton departed at dawn on the ninth, taking the cart drawn by one onager, and two hours after the electric wire announced that he had found all in order at the corral. During these two days Harding busied himself in executing a project which would completely guard Granite House against any surprise. It was necessary to completely conceal the opening of the old outlet, which was already walled up and partly hidden under grass and plants, at the southern angle of Lake Grant. Nothing was easier, since if the level of the lake was raised two or three feet, the opening would be quite beneath it. Now, to raise this level they had only to establish a dam at the two openings made by the lake, and by which were fed Creek Glycerin and Falls River. The columnists worked with a will, and the two dams which besides did not exceed eight feet in width by three in height, were rapidly erected by means of well-cemented blocks of stone. This work finished. It would have been impossible to guess that at that part of the lake there existed a subterranean passage through which the overflow of the lake formally escaped. Of course the little stream which fed the reservoir of Granite House and worked the lift had been carefully preserved, and the water could not fail. The lift once raised, this sure and comfortable retreat would be safe from any surprise. This work had been so quickly done that Pencroft, Guinead Spellet, and Herbert found time to make an expedition to Port Balloon. The sailor was very anxious to know if the little creek in which the Bonaventure was moored had been visited by the convicts. Those gentlemen, he observed, landed on the south coast, and if they followed the shore it is to be feared that they may have discovered the little harbor, and in that case I wouldn't give half a dollar for our Bonaventure. Those apprehensions were not without foundation, and a visit to Port Balloon appeared to be very desirable. The sailor and his companions set off on the 10th of November, after dinner, well armed. Pencroft ostentatiously slipping two bullets into each barrel of his rifle, shook his head in a way which betokened nothing good to any one who approached too near him, whether man or beast, as he said. The Inskillet and Herbert also took their guns, and about three o'clock all three left Granted House. Nebb accompanied them to the turn of the mercy, and after they had crossed he raised the bridge. It was agreed that a gunshot should announce the colonists' return, and that at the signal Nebb should return and re-establish the communication between the two banks of the river. The little band advanced directly along the road which led to the southern coast of the island. This was only a distance of three miles and a half, but Gideon Spillet and his companions took two hours to traverse it. They examined all the border of the road, the thick forest, as well as tape or marsh. They found no trace of the fugitives, who, no doubt, not having yet discovered the number of the colonists, or the means of defense which they had at their disposal, had gained the less accessible parts of the island. Arrived at Port Balloon, Pencroft saw with extreme satisfaction that the Bonaventure was trankily floating in the narrow creek. However Port Balloon was so well hidden among high rocks that it could scarcely be discovered either from the land or the sea. Come, said Pencroft, the Blaggers have not been there yet. Long grass suits reptiles best, and evidently we shall find them in the far west. Hence very lucky, for if they had found the Bonaventure, added Herbert, they would have gone off in her, and we should have been prevented from returning to Table Island. Indeed, remarked the reporter, it will be important to take a document there which will make known the situation of Lincoln Island, and Ayrton's new residence, in case the Scotch Yacht returns to fetch him. Well, the Bonaventure is always there, Mr. Spillett, answered the sailor. She and her crew are ready to start at a moment's notice. I think, Pencroft, that that is a thing to be done after our exploration of the island is finished. It is possible, after all, that the stranger, if we manage to find him, may know as much about Table Island as about Lincoln Island. Do not forget that he is certainly the author of the document, and he may perhaps know how far we may count on the return of the yacht. But, exclaimed Pencroft, who in the world can he be? The fellow knows us, and we know nothing about him. If he is a simple castaway, why should he conceal himself? We are honest men, I suppose, and the Society of Honest Men isn't unpleasant to any one. Did he come here voluntarily? Can he leave the island if he likes? Is he here still? Will he remain any longer? Chatting thus, Pencroft, Gideon, Spillett, and Herbert got on board and looked about the deck of the Bonaventure. All at once the sailor having examined the bits to which the cable of the anchor were secured. Hello! he cried. This is queer. What is the matter, Pencroft? asked the reporter. The matter is that it was not I who made this knot. And Pencroft showed a rope which fastened the cable to the bit itself. What? It was not you? Ask Gideon, Spillett. No, I can swear to it. This is a reef knot, and I always make a running bowline. You must be mistaken, Pencroft. I am not mistaken, declared the sailor. My hand does it so naturally, and one's hand is never mistaken. How can the convicts have been on board, asked Herbert? I know nothing about that, answered Pencroft. But what is certain is that someone has weighed the Bonaventure's anchor and dropped it again. And look here. Here is another proof. The cable of the anchor has been run out, and its service is no longer at the haus hole. I repeat that someone has been using our vessel. But if the convicts had used her they would have pillaged her, or rather gone off with her. Gone off? Where to? To Tabor Island? replied Pencroft. Do you think they would risk themselves in a boat of such small tonnage? We must besides be sure that they know of the islet, rejoined the reporter. However, that may be, said the sailor, as sure as my name is Bonaventure Pencroft of the Vineyard, our Bonaventure has sailed without us. The sailor was so positive that neither Gideon Spillett nor Herbert could dispute his statement. It was evident that the vessel had been moved, more or less, since Pencroft had brought her to Port Balloon. As to the sailor, he had not the slightest doubt that the anchor had been raised and then dropped again. Now what was the use of these two maneuvers, unless the vessel had been employed in some expedition? But how was it we did not see the Bonaventure pass inside of the island? observed the reporter, who was anxious to bring forward every possible objection. Why, Mr. Spillett, replied the sailor, they would only have to start in the night with a good breeze, and they would be out of sight of the island in two hours. Well, resumed Gideon Spillett, I ask again what object could the convicts have had in using the Bonaventure, and why, after they had made use of her, should they have brought her back to Port? Why, Mr. Spillett, replied the sailor, we must put that among the unaccountable things, and not think anything more about it. The chief thing is that the Bonaventure was there, and she is there now. Only, unfortunately, if the convicts take her a second time, we shall very likely not find her again in her place. Then Pencroft, said Herbert, would it not be wisest to bring the Bonaventure off to Granite House? Yes and no, answered Pencroft, or rather no. The mouth of the mercy is a bad place for a vessel, and the sea is heavy there. But by hauling her up on the sand to the foot of the chimneys? Yes, replied Pencroft. At any rate, since we must leave Granite House for a long expedition, I think the Bonaventure will be safer here during our absence, and we shall do best to leave her here until the island is rid of those blaggards. That is exactly my opinion, said the reporter. At any rate, in the event of bad weather, she will not be exposed here as she would be at the mouth of the mercy. Let's suppose the convicts pay her another visit, said Herbert. Well, my boy, replied Pencroft, not finding her here, they would not be long in finding her on the sands of Granite House, and during our absence nothing could hinder them from seizing her. I agree, therefore, with Mr. Spillett, that she must be left in Port Balloon. But if on our return we have not rid the island of those rascals, it will be prudent to bring our boat to Granite House until the time when we need not fear any unpleasant visits. That's settled, let us be off, said the reporter. Pencroft, Herbert, and Gideon Spillett, on the return to Granite House, told the engineer all that had passed, and the latter approved of their arrangements both for the present and the future. He also promised the sailor that he would study that part of the channel situated between the islet and the coast, so as to ascertain if it would not be possible to make an artificial harbour there by means of dams. In this way the bonaventure would be always within reach, under the eyes of the colonists, and if necessary under lock and key. That evening a telegram was sent to Ayrton, requesting him to bring from the corral a couple of goats, which Neb wished to acclimatize to the plateau. Singularly enough Ayrton did not acknowledge the receipt of the dispatch, as he was accustomed to do. That could not but astonish the engineer. But it might be that Ayrton was not at that moment in the corral, or even that he was on his way back to Granite House. In fact two days had already passed since his departure, and it had been decided that on the evening of the tenth, or at the latest the morning of the eleventh, he should return. The colonists waited therefore for Ayrton to appear on prospect heights. Neb and Herbert even watched at the bridge, so as to be ready to lower it the moment their companion presented himself. But up to ten in the evening there were no signs of Ayrton. It was therefore judged best to send a fresh dispatch, requiring an immediate reply. The bell of the telegraph at Granite House remained mute. The colonists' uneasiness was great. What had happened? Was Ayrton no longer at the corral? Or if he was still there, had he no longer control over his movements? Could they go to the corral in this dark night? They consulted. Some wished to go, the others to remain. But, said Herbert, perhaps some accident has happened to the telegraphic apparatus, so that it works no longer? That may be, said the reporter. Wait till to-morrow, replied Cyrus Harding. It is possible indeed that Ayrton has not received our dispatch, or even that we have not received hives. They waited, of course not without some anxiety. At dawn of day, the eleventh of November, Harding again sent the electric current along the wire and received no reply. He tried again. The same was up. Off to the corral, said he. And well-armed, added Pencroft. It was immediately decided that Granite House should not be left alone and that Neb should remain there. After having accompanied his friends to Creek Glycerin, he raised the bridge and, waiting behind a tree, he watched for the return of either his companions or Ayrton. In the event of the pirates presenting themselves and attempting to force the passage, he was to endeavour to stop them by firing on them, and as a last resource he was to take refuge in Granite House where, the lift once raised, he would be in safety. Cyrus Harding, Gideon Spillett, Herbert, and Pencroft were to repair to the corral, and if they did not find Ayrton, searched the neighboring woods. At six o'clock in the morning the engineer and his three companions had passed Creek Glycerin, and Neb posted himself behind a small mound crowned by several dragon trees on the left bank of the stream. The colonists, after leaving the plateau of Prospect Heights, immediately took the road to the corral. They shouldered their guns ready to fire on the slightest hostile demonstration. The two rifles and the two guns had been loaded with ball. The wood was thick on each side of the road and might easily have concealed the convicts, who owing to their weapons would have been really formidable. The colonists walked rapidly and in silence. Top proceeded them, sometimes running on the road, sometimes taking a ramble into the wood, but always quiet and not appearing to fear anything unusual. And they could be sure that the faithful dog would not allow them to be surprised, but would bark at the least appearance of danger. The sarding and his companions followed beside the road the wire which connected the corral with Granite House. After walking for nearly two miles they had not as yet discovered any explanation of the difficulty. The posts were in good order. The wire regularly extended. However, at that moment the engineer observed that the wire appeared to be slack, and on arriving at post number 74, Herbert, who was in advance, stopped, exclaiming, The wire is broken! His companions hurried forward and arrived at the spot where the lad was standing. The post was rooted up and lying across the path. The unexpected explanation of the difficulty was here, and it was evident that the dispatches from Granite House had not been received at the corral, nor those from the corral at Granite House. It wasn't the wind that blew down this post, observed Pencroft. No, replied Gideon Spillett, the earth has been dug up round its foot, and it has been torn up by the hand of man. Besides, the wire is broken, added Herbert, showing that the wire had been snapped. Is the fracture recent? asked Harding. Yes, answered Herbert, it has certainly been done quite lately. To the corral! To the corral! exclaimed the sailor. The colonists were now halfway between Granite House and the corral, having still two miles and a half to go. They pressed forward with redoubled speed. Indeed it was to be feared that some serious accident had occurred in the corral. No doubt, Ayrton might have sent a telegram which had not arrived, but this was not the reason why his companions were so uneasy. For, a more unaccountable circumstance, Ayrton, who had promised to return the evening before, had not reappeared. In short, it was not without a motive that all communications had been stopped between the corral and Granite House, and who but the convicts could have any interest in interrupting this communication. The settlers hastened on. Their hearts oppressed with anxiety. They were sincerely attached to their new companion. Were they to find him struck down by the hands of those of whom he was formerly the leader? Soon they arrived, at the place where the road led along the side at the little stream which flowed from the red creek and watered the meadows of the corral. They then moderated their pace so that they should not be out of breath at the moment when a struggle might be necessary. Their guns were in their hands, ready cocked. The forest was watched on every side. Stop uttered sulling groans which were rather ominous. At last the palisade appeared through the trees. No trace of any damage could be seen. The gate was shut as usual. Deep silence reigned in the corral. Neither the accustomed bleeding of the sheep nor Ayrton's voice could be heard. Let us enter, said Cyrus Harding. And the engineer advanced, while his companions, keeping watch about twenty paces behind him, were ready to fire at a moment's notice. Harding raised the inner latch of the gate, and was about to push it back when top barked loudly. A report sounded, and was responded to by a cry of pain. Herbert, struck by a bullet, lay stretched on the ground. End of chapter. This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. The Mysterious Island. By Jules Verne. Part III. CHAPTER VII At Herbert's cry, Pencroft, letting his gun fall, rushed towards him. They have killed him! he cried. My boy! They have killed him! Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spillett ran to Herbert. The reporter listened to ascertain if the poor lad's heart was still beating. He lives, said he, but he must be carried to Granite House? That is impossible! replied the engineer. Into the corral, then, said Pencroft. In a moment said Harding. And he ran round the left corner of the palisade. There he found a convict, who, aiming at him, sent a ball through his hat. In a few seconds, before he had even time to fire his second barrel, he fell, struck to the heart, by Harding's dagger. More sure, even than it is gun. During this time, Gideon Spillett and the sailor hoisted themselves over the palisade, leaped into the enclosure, threw down the props which supported the inner door, ran into the empty house, and soon poor Herbert was lying on Ayrton's bed. In a few moments, Harding was by his side. On seeing Herbert senseless, the sailor's grief was terrible. He sobbed. He cried. He tried to beat his head against the wall. Neither the engineer nor the reporter could calm him. They themselves were choked with emotion. They could not speak. However, they knew that it depended on them to rescue from death the poor boy who was suffering beneath their eyes. Gideon Spillett had not passed through the many incidents by which his life had been checkered, without acquiring some slight knowledge of medicine. He knew a little of everything, and several times he had been obliged to attend to wounds produced either by a sword, bayonet or shot. Assisted by Cyrus Harding, he proceeded to render the aid Herbert required. The reporter was immediately struck by the complete stupor in which Herbert lay, a stupor owing either to the hemorrhage or to the shock, the ball having struck a bone with sufficient force to produce a violent concussion. It was deadly pale, and his pulse so feeble that Spillett only felt it beat at long intervals, as if it was on the point of stopping. These symptoms were very serious. Herbert's chest was laid bare, and the blood having been stanched with handkerchiefs it was bathed with cold water. The contusion, or rather the contused wound, appeared. An oval below the chest between the third and fourth ribs it was there that Herbert had been hit by the bullet. Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spillett then turned the poor boy over. As they did so, he uttered a moan so feeble that they almost thought it was his last sigh. Herbert's back was covered with blood from another contused wound by which the ball had immediately escaped. "'God be praised,' said the reporter, "'the ball is not in the body, and we shall not have to extract it.' "'Not the heart,' asked Harding. "'The heart has not been touched. If it had been, Herbert would be dead.' "'Dead!' exclaimed Pencroft with a groan. The sailor had only heard the last words uttered by the reporter. "'No, Pencroft,' replied Cyrus Harding. "'No, he is not dead. His pulse still beats. He has even uttered a moan. But for your boy's sake, calm yourself. We have need of all our self-possession. Do not make us lose it, my friend.' Pencroft was silent, but a reaction set in, and great tears rolled down his cheeks. In the meanwhile Gideon Spillett endeavored to collect his ideas and perceive methodically. After his examination he had no doubt that the ball entering in front between the seventh and eighth ribs had issued behind between the third and fourth. But what mischief had the ball committed in its passage? What important organs had been reached? A professional surgeon would have had difficulty in determining this at once, and still more so the reporter. However he knew one thing. This was that he would have to prevent the inflammatory strangulation of the injured parts, then to contend with the local inflammation and fever which would result from the wound, perhaps mortal. Now what styptics, what antiflogistics ought to be employed? By what means could inflammation be prevented? At any rate the most important thing was that the two wounds should be dressed without delay. It did not appear necessary to Gideon Spillett that a fresh flow of blood should be caused by bathing them in tap water and compressing their lips. The hemorrhage had been very abundant, and Herbert was already too much enfeebled by the loss of blood. The reporter therefore thought it best to simply bathe the two wounds with cold water. Herbert was placed on his left side, and was maintained in that position. He must not be moved, Gideon Spillett. He is in the most favorable position for the wounds in his back and chest to separate easily, and absolute rest is necessary. What? can't we carry him to Granite House? asked Pencroft. No, Pencroft, replied the reporter. I'll pay the villains off, cried the sailor, shaking his fist in a menacing manner. Pencroft said Cyrus Harding. Gideon Spillett had resumed his examination of the wounded boy. Herbert was still so frightfully pale that the reporter felt anxious. Cyrus said he. I am not a surgeon. I am in terrible perplexity. You must aid me with your advice, your experience. Take courage, my friend, answered the engineer, pressing the reporter's hand. Judge Cooley. Think only of this. Herbert must be saved. These words restored in Gideon Spillett that self-possession which he had lost in a moment of discouragement on feeling his great responsibility. He seated himself close to the bed. Cyrus Harding stood near. Pencroft had torn up his shirt and was mechanically making lint. Spillett then explained to Cyrus Harding that he thought he ought first of all to stop the hemorrhage, but not close the two wounds or cause their immediate cicatrization, for there had been internal perforation and the separation must not be allowed to accumulate in the chest. Harding approved entirely, and it was decided that the two wounds should be dressed without attempting to close them by immediate co-aptation. And now did the colonists possess an efficacious agent to act against the inflammation which might occur? Yes. They had one, for nature had generously lavished it. They had cold water. That is to say, the most powerful sedative that can be employed against inflammation of wounds, the most efficacious therapeutic agent in grave cases, and the one which is now adopted by all physicians. Cold water has, moreover, the advantage of leaving the wound in absolute rest and preserving it from all premature dressing, a considerable advantage, since it has been found by experience, the contact with the air is dangerous during the first days. Gideon spill it in Cyrus Harding reasoned thus with their simple good sense, and they acted as the best surgeon would have done. Compresses of linen were applied to poor Herbert's two wounds, and were kept constantly wet with cold water. The sailor had at first lighted a fire in the hut, which was not wanting in things necessary for life. Full sugar, medicinal plants, the same which the lad had gathered on the banks of Lake Grant, enabled them to make some refreshing drinks, which they gave him without his taking any notice of it. His fever was extremely high, and all that day and night passed without his becoming conscious. Herbert's life hung on a thread, and this thread might break at any moment. The next day, the 12th of November, the hopes of Harding and his companions slightly revived. Herbert had come out of his long stupor. He opened his eyes. He recognized Cyrus Harding, the reporter, and Pencroft. He uttered two or three words. He did not know what had happened. They told him, and spill it begged him to remain perfectly still, telling him that his life was not in danger, and that his wounds would heal in a few days. However, Herbert scarcely suffered at all, and the cold water with which they were continually bathed prevented any inflammation of the wounds. The separation was established in a regular way. The fever did not increase, and it might now be hoped that this terrible wound would not involve any catastrophe. Pencroft felt the swelling of his heart gradually subside. He was like a sister of mercy, like a mother by the bed of her child. Herbert dozed again, but his sleep appeared more natural. Tell me again that you hope, Mr. Spillett, said Pencroft. Tell me again that you will save Herbert. Yes, we will save him, replied the reporter. The wound is serious, and perhaps even the ball has traversed the lungs, but the perforation of this organ is not fatal. God bless you, answered Pencroft. As may be believed, during the four and twenty hours they had been in the corral, the colonists had no other thought than that of nursing Herbert. They did not think either of the danger which threatened them should the convicts return, or of the precautions to be taken for the future. But on this day, while Pencroft watched by the sick bed, Cyrus Harding and the reporter consulted as to what it would be best to do. First of all, they examined the corral. There was not a trace of Ayrton. Had the unhappy man been dragged away by his former accomplices? Had he resisted and been overcome in the struggle? This last supposition was only too probable. Gideon Spillett, at the moment he scaled the palisade, had clearly seen some one of the convicts running along the southern spur of Mount Franklin, towards whom Topp had sprung. It was one of those whose object had been so completely defeated by the rocks at the mouth of the mercy. Besides, the one killed by Harding and whose body was found outside the enclosure, of course, belonged to Barb Harvey's crew. As to the corral, it had not suffered any damage. The gates were closed, and the animals had not been able to disperse in the forest. Nor could they see traces of any struggle, any devastation, either in the hut or in the palisade. The ammunition only, with which Ayrton had been supplied, had disappeared with him. The unhappy man has been surprised, said Harding, and as he was a man to defend himself, he must have been overpowered. Yes, that is to be feared, said the reporter. Then doubtless the convicts installed themselves in the corral where they found plenty of everything, and only fled when they saw us coming. It is very evident, too, that at this moment Ayrton, whether living or dead, is not here. We shall have to beat the forest, said the engineer, and rid the island of these wretches. Landcross's presentiments were not mistaken, when he wished to hunt them as wild beasts. That would have spared us all these misfortunes. Yes, answered the reporter, but now we have the right to be merciless. At any rate, said the engineer, we are obliged to wait some time, and to remain at the corral, until we can carry Herbert without danger to Granite House. But Neb, asked the reporter, Neb is in safety. But if, uneasy at our absence, he should venture to come? He must not come, returned Cyrus Harding quickly. He would be murdered on the road. It is very probable, however, that he will attempt to rejoin us. Ah, if the telegraph still acted, he might be warned. But that is impossible now. As to leaving Pencroft and Herbert here alone, we could not do it. Well, I will go alone to Granite House. No, no, Cyrus, answered the reporter. You must not expose yourself. Your courage would be of no avail. The villains are evidently watching the corral. They are hidden in the thick woods which surround it. And if you go, we shall soon have to regret two misfortunes instead of one. But Neb, repeated the engineer, it is now four and twenty hours since he has had any news of us. He will be sure to come. And as he will be less on his guard than we should be ourselves, had I'd spill it, he will be killed. Is there really no way of warning him? While the engineer thought, his eyes fell on top. Who, going backwards and forwards, seemed to say, am I not here? Top exclaimed Cyrus Harding. The animal sprang at his master's call. Yes, Top will go, said the reporter, who had understood the engineer. Top can go where we cannot. He will carry to Granite House the news of the corral, and he will bring back to us that from Granite House. Top can go where we cannot. He will carry to Granite House the news of the corral, and he will bring back to us that from Granite House. Quick, said Harding, quick! Spill it rapidly tore a leaf from his notebook, and wrote these words. Herbert wounded, we are at the corral. Be on your guard. Do not leave Granite House. Have the convicts appeared in the neighborhood? Reply by Top. This laconic note contained all that Neb ought to know, and at the same time asked all that the colonists wished to know. It was folded and fastened to Top's collar in a conspicuous position. Top, my dog, said the engineer caressing the animal. Neb, Top, Neb, go, go! Top bounded at these words. He understood. He knew what was expected of him. The road to the corral was familiar to him. In less than an hour he could clear it, and it might be hoped that where neither Cyrus Harding nor the reporter could have ventured without danger, Top, running among the grass or in the wood, would pass unperceived. The engineer went to the gate of the corral and opened it. Neb, Top, Neb, repeated the engineer, again pointing in the direction of Granite House. Top sprang forwards, and almost immediately disappeared. He will get there, said the reporter. Yes, and he will come back, the faithful animal. What a clock is it, asked Gideon Spillett. Ten. In an hour he may be here. We will watch for his return. The gate of the corral was closed. The engineer and the reporter re-entered the house. Herbert was still in asleep. Pancroft kept the compresses always wet. Spillett, saying that there was nothing he could do at that moment, busied himself in preparing some nourishment, while attentively watching that part of the enclosure against the hill at which an attack might be expected. The settlers awaited Top's return with much anxiety. A little before eleven o'clock, Cyrus Harding and the reporter, rifle in hand, were behind the gate, ready to open it at the first bark of their dock. They did not doubt that if Top had arrived safely at Granite House, Neb would have sent him back immediately. They had both been there for about ten minutes, when a report was heard, followed by repeated barks. The engineer opened the gate, and seeing smoke a hundred feet off in the wood, he fired in that direction. Omusd immediately Top bounded into the corral, and the gate was quickly shut. Top, Top! exclaimed the engineer, taking the dog's great honest head between his hands. A note was fastened to his neck. Then Cyrus Harding read these words, traced in Neb's large writing. No pirates in the neighborhood of Granite House! I will not stir! Poor Mr. Herbert! The Mysterious Island by Jules Verne Part III Chapter VIII So the convicts were still there, watching the corral, and determined to kill the settlers one after the other. There was nothing to be done but to treat them as wild beasts. But great precautions must be taken, for just now the wretches had the advantage on their side. Seeing and not being seen, being able to surprise by the suddenness of their attack, yet not to be surprised themselves. Harding made arrangements, therefore, for living in the corral, of which the provisions would last for a tolerable length of time. Ayrton's house had been provided with all that was necessary for existence, and the convicts, scared by the arrival of the settlers, had not had time to pillage it. It was probable, as Gideon Spillett observed, that things had occurred as follows. The six convicts, disembarking on the island, had followed the southern shore, and after having traversed the double shore of the serpentine peninsula, not being inclined to venture into the far west woods, they had reached the mouth of Falls River. From this point, by following the right bank of the water-course, they would arrive at the spurs of Mount Franklin, among which they would naturally seek a retreat, and they could not have been long in discovering the corral, then uninhabited. There they had regularly installed themselves, awaiting the moment to put their abominable schemes into execution. Ayrton's arrival had surprised them, but they had managed to overpower the unfortunate man, and the rest may be easily imagined. Now the convicts, reduced to five, it is true, but well armed, were roaming the woods, and to venture there was to expose themselves to their attacks, which could be neither guarded against nor prevented. Wait! There is nothing else to be done! repeated Cyrus Harding. When Herbert is cured, we can organize a general battu of the island, and have satisfaction of these convicts. That will be the object of our grand expedition at the same time. As the search for our mysterious protector, at a Gideon's spillet, finishing the engineer's sentence, ah, it must be acknowledged, my dear Cyrus, that this time his protection was wanting at the very moment when it was most necessary to us. Who knows, replied the engineer. What do you mean, asked the reporter, that we are not at the end of our trouble yet, my dear spillet, and that his powerful intervention may have another opportunity of exercising itself. That is not the question now, Herbert's life before everything. That was the colonist's saddest thought. Several days passed, and the poor boy's state was happily no worse. Cold water, always kept at a suitable temperature, had completely prevented the inflammation of the wounds. It even seemed to the reporter that this water, being slightly sulfurous, which was explained by the neighborhood of the volcano, had a more direct action on the healing. The separation was much less abundant, and, thanks to the incessant care by which he was surrounded, Herbert returned to life, and his fever abated. He was besides subjected to a severe diet, and consequently his weakness was and would be extreme. But there was no want of refreshing drinks, and absolute rest was of the greatest benefit to him. Herbert's hearting, Gideon's spillet, and Pencroft had become very skillful in dressing the lads' wounds. All the linen in the house had been sacrificed. Herbert's wounds, covered with compresses and lint, were pressed neither too much nor too little, so as to cause their citricization without affecting any inflammatory reaction. The reporter used extreme care in the dressing, knowing well the importance of it, and repeating to his companions that which most surgeons willingly admit, that it is perhaps rarer to see a dressing well done than an operation well performed. In ten days, on the twenty-second of November, Herbert was considerably better. He had begun to take some nourishment. The color was returning to his cheeks, and his bright eyes smiled at his nurses. He talked a little, not with standing Pencroft's efforts, who talked incessantly to prevent him from beginning to speak, and told him the most improbable stories. Herbert had questioned him on the subject of Ayrton, whom he was astonished not to see near him, thinking that he was at the corral. But the sailor, not wishing to distress Herbert, contented himself by replying that Ayrton had rejoined Neb, so as to defend the granted house. "'Hmph,' said Pencroft, these pirates, they are gentlemen who have no right to any consideration, and the captain wanted to win them by kindness. I'll send them some kindness, but in the shape of a good bullet.' "'And have they not been seen again?' asked Herbert. "'No, my boy,' answered the sailor, "'but we shall find them, and when you are cured we shall see if the cowards who strike us from behind will dare to meet us face to face.' "'I am still very weak, my poor Pencroft.' "'Well, your strength will return gradually. What's a ball through the chest? Nothing but a joke. I've seen many, and I don't think much of them.' At last things appeared to be going on well, and if no complication occurred Herbert's recovery might be regarded as certain. But what would have been the condition of the colonists if his state had been aggravated, if, for example, the ball had remained in his body, if his arm or his leg had had to be amputated? "'No,' said Spillett, more than once, I have never thought of such a contingency without shuddering.' "'And yet, if it had been necessary to operate,' said Harding, one day to him, "'you would not have hesitated?' "'No, Cyrus,' said Gideon Spillett, but thank God that we have been spared this complication.' As in so many other conjectures, the colonists had appealed to the logic of that simple good sense of which they had made use so often, and once more, thanks to the general knowledge, it had succeeded. But might not a time come when all their science would be at fault? They were all alone on the island. Now men in all states of society are necessary to each other. Cyrus Harding knew this well, and sometimes he asked if some circumstance might not occur which they would be powerless to surmount. It appeared to him, besides, that he and his companions, till then so fortunate, had entered into an unlucky period. During the two years and a half which had elapsed since their escape from Richmond, it might be said that they had had everything their own way. The island had abundantly supplied them with minerals, vegetables, animals, and as nature had constantly loaded them, their science had known how to take advantage of what she offered them. The well-being of the colony was therefore complete. Moreover in certain occurrences an inexplicable influence had come to their aid, but all that could only be for a time. In short, Cyrus Harding believed that fortune had turned against them. In fact, the convict's ship had appeared in the waters of the island, and if the pirates had been, so to speak, miraculously destroyed, six of them at least had escaped the catastrophe. They had disembarked on the island, and it was almost impossible to get at the five who survived. Ayrton had no doubt been murdered by these wretches, who possessed firearms, and at the first use that they had made of them, Herbert had fallen, wounded almost mortally. Were these the first blows aimed by adverse fortune at the colonists? This was often asked by Harding. This was often repeated by the reporter. And it appeared to him also that the intervention, so strange, yet so efficacious, which till then had served them so well, had now failed them. And this mysterious being, whatever he was, whose existence could not be denied, abandoned the island, had he in his turn succumbed? No reply was possible to these questions, but it must not be imagined that because Harding and his companions spoke of these things, they were meant to despair. Far from that, they looked their situation in the face. They analyzed their chances. They prepared themselves for any event. They stood firm and straight before the future. And if adversity was at last to strike them, it would find in them men prepared to struggle against it. CHAPTER IX The convalescence of the young invalid was regularly progressing. One thing only was now to be desired, that his state would allow him to be brought to Granite House. However well built and supplied the Corral House was, it could not be so comfortable as the healthy Granite dwelling. Besides, it did not offer the same security, and its tenets, not withstanding their watchfulness, were here always in fear of some shot from the convicts. There on the contrary, in the middle of that impregnable and inaccessible cliff, they would have nothing to fear, and any attacks on their persons would certainly fail. They therefore waited impatiently for the moment when Herbert might be moved without danger from his wound, and they were determined to make this move, although the communication through Jackamar Wood was very difficult. They had no news from Neb, but were not uneasy on that account. The courageous Negro, well entrenched in the depths of Granite House, would not allow himself to be surprised. Top had not been sent again to him, as it appeared useless to expose the faithful dog to some shot which might deprive the settlers of their most useful auxiliary. They waited therefore, although they were anxious to be reunited at Granite House. It pained the engineer to see his forces divided, for it gave great advantage to the pirates. Since Ayrton's disappearance they were only four against five, for Herbert could not yet be counted, and this was not the least care of the brave boy, who well understood the trouble of which he was the cause. The question of knowing how, and their condition, they were to act against the pirates was thoroughly discussed on the 29th of November by Cyrus Harding, Gideon Spillett, and Pencroft, at a moment when Herbert was asleep and could not hear them. My friends," said the reporter, after they had talked of Neb and of the impossibility of communicating with him. I think, like you, that to venture on the road to the corral would be to risk receiving a gunshot without being able to return it. But do you not think that the best thing to be done now is to openly give chase to these wretches? That is just what I was thinking, answered Pencroft. I believe we're not fellas to be afraid of a bullet, and as for me, if Captain Harding approves, I'm ready to dash into the forest. Why hang it, man? One man is equal to another. But is he equal to five? asked the engineer. I will join, Pencroft, said the reporter, and both of us well armed at a cup-dee by top. My dear Spillett, and you, Pencroft, answered Harding, let us reason coolly. If the convicts were hid in one spot of the island, if we knew that spot and had only to dislodge them, I would undertake a direct attack. But is there not occasion to fear, on the contrary, that they are sure to fire the first shot? Well, Captain, cried Pencroft, a bullet does not always reach its mark. That which struck Herbert did not miss, Pencroft, replied the engineer. Besides, observe that if both of you left the corral, I should remain here alone to defend it. Do you imagine that the convicts will not see you leave it? That they will not allow you to enter the forest, and that they will not attack it during your absence, knowing that there is no one here but a wounded boy and a man? You are right, Captain," replied Pencroft, his chest swelling with sullen anger. You are right, and they will do all they can to retake the corral, which they know to be well stored, and alone you could not hold it against them. Oh, if we were only at Granite House! If we were at Granite House," answered the engineer, the case would be very different. There I should not be afraid to leave Herbert with one, while the other three went to search the forests of the island. But we are at the corral, and it is best to stay here until we can leave it together. Cyrus Harding's reasoning was unanswerable, and his companions understood it well. If only Ayrton was still one of us, said Gideon Spillett. Poor fellow! His return to social life will have been but of short duration. If he is dead, added Pencroft in a peculiar tone. Do you hope, then, Pencroft, that the villains have spared him? Ask Gideon Spillett. Yes, if they had any interest in doing so. What? You suppose that Ayrton, finding his old companions, forgetting all that he owes us, who knows? answered the sailor, who did not hazard this shameful supposition without hesitating. Pencroft said Harding, taking the sailor's arm. That is a wicked idea of yours, and you will distress me much if you persist in speaking thus. I will answer for Ayrton's fidelity. And I also added the reporter quickly. Yes, yes, Captain, I was wrong, replied Pencroft. It was a wicked idea indeed that I had, and nothing justifies it. But what can I do? I'm not in my senses. This imprisonment and the corral wearies me horribly, and I have never felt so excited as I do now. Be patient, Pencroft, replied the engineer. How long will it be, my dear Spillett, before you think Herbert may be carried to Granite House? That is difficult to say, Cyrus, answered the reporter, for any imprudence might involve terrible consequences. But his convalescence is progressing, and if he continues to gain strength, in eight days from now, well, we shall see. EIGHT DAYS That would put off the return to Granite House until the first days of December. At this time two months of spring had already passed. The weather was fine, and the heat began to be great. The forests of the island were in full leaf, and the time was approaching when the usual crops ought to be gathered. The return to the plateau of Prospect Heights would, therefore, be followed by extensive agricultural labours, interrupted only by the projected expedition through the island. It can, therefore, be well understood how injurious this seclusion and the corral must have been to the colonists. But if they were compelled to bow before necessity, they did not do so without impatience. Once or twice the reporter ventured out into the road and made the tour of the palisade. Top accompanied him, and Gideon Spillett, his gun cocked, was ready for any emergency. He met with no misadventure and found no suspicious traces. His dog would have warned him of any danger, and, as Top did not bark, it might be concluded that there was nothing to fear, at that moment at least, and that the convicts were occupied in another part of the island. However, on his second sortie, on the 27th of November, Gideon Spillett, who had ventured a quarter of a mile into the woods, towards the south of the mountain, remarked that Top scented something. The dog had no longer his unconcerned manner. He went backwards and forwards, ferreting among the grass and bushes as if his smell had revealed some suspicious object to him. Gideon Spillett followed Top, encouraged him, excited him by his voice, while keeping a sharp look out, his gun ready to fire, and sheltering himself behind the trees. It was not probable that Top scented the presence of man, for in that case he would have announced it by half-uttered, sullen, angry barks. Now, as he did not growl, it was because danger was neither near nor approaching. Nearly five minutes passed, thus, Top rummaging, the reporter following him prudently, when all at once the dog rushed towards a thick bush and drew out a rag. It was a piece of cloth, stained and torn, which Spillett immediately brought back to the corral. There it was examined by the colonists, who found that it was a fragment of Ayrton's waistcoat, a piece of that felt manufactured solely by the Granite House factory. You see, Pencroft, observed Harding, there has been resistance on the part of the unfortunate Ayrton. The convicts have dragged him away in spite of himself. Do you still doubt his honesty? No, Captain, answered the sailor, and I repented of my suspicion a long time ago. But it seems to me that something may be learned from the incident. What is that? asked the reporter. It is that Ayrton was not killed at the corral, that they dragged him away living since he has resisted. Therefore, perhaps, he is still living. Perhaps indeed, replied the engineer, who remained thoughtful. This was a hope to which Ayrton's companions could still hold. Indeed, they had before believed that, surprised in the corral, Ayrton had fallen by a bullet, as Herbert had fallen. But if the convicts had not killed him at first, if they had brought him living to another part of the island, might it not be admitted that he was still their prisoner? Perhaps even, one of them had found in Ayrton his old Australian companion Ben Joyce, the chief of the escaped convicts. And who knows but that they had conceived the impossible hope of bringing Ayrton to themselves? He would have been very useful to them, if they had been able to make him turn traitor. This incident was, therefore, favorably interpreted at the corral, and it no longer appeared impossible that they should find Ayrton again. On his side, if he was only a prisoner, Ayrton would no doubt do all he could to escape from the hands of the villains, and this would be a powerful aid to the settlers. At any rate, observed Gideon Spillett, if happily Ayrton did manage to escape, he would go directly to Granite House, for he could not know of the attempted assassination of which Herbert has been a victim, and consequently would never think of our being imprisoned in the corral. Oh, I wished that he was there at Granite House, cried Pencroft, and that we were there too. For although the rascals can do nothing to our house, they may plunder the plateau, our plantations, our paltry-yard. Pencroft had become a thorough farmer, heartily attached to his crops. But it must be said that Herbert was more anxious than any to return to Granite House, for he knew how much the presence of the settlers was needed there. And it was he who was keeping them at the corral. Therefore one idea occupied his mind, to leave the corral and when. He believed he could bear removal to Granite House. He was sure his strength would return more quickly in his room with the air and sight of the sea. Several times he pressed Gideon Spillett, but the latter, fearing, with good reason, that Herbert's wounds, half healed, might reopen on the way, did not give the order to start. However something occurred which compelled Cyrus Harding and his two friends to yield to the lad's wish, and God alone knew that this determination might cause them grief and remorse. It was the 29th of November, seven o'clock in the evening. The three settlers were talking at Herbert's room when they heard top utter quick barks. Harding, Pencrofton Spillett seized their guns and ran out of the house. Top at the foot of the palisade was jumping, barking, but it was with pleasure, not anger. Someone is coming. Yes. It is not an enemy. Ned perhaps? Or Ayrton? These words had hardly been exchanged between the engineer and his two companions when a body leaped over the palisade and fell on the ground inside the corral. It was Jupe, Master Jupe, in person, to whom Top immediately gave a most cordial reception. Jupe! exclaimed Pencroft. Neb has sent him to us, said the reporter. Then, replied the engineer, he must have some note on him. Pencroft rushed up to the orang. Only if Neb had any important matter to communicate to his master he could not employ a more sure or more rapid messenger who could pass where neither the colonists could nor even Top himself. Cyrus Harding was not mistaken. At Jupe's neck hung a small bag, and in this bag was found a little note traced by Neb's hand. The despair of Harding and his companions may be imagined when they read these words. Friday, six o'clock in the morning, Plateau invaded by Convix, Neb. They gazed at each other without uttering a word. Then they re-entered the house. What were they to do? The Convix on prospect heights! That was disaster, devastation, ruin! Herbert, on seeing the engineer, the reporter, and Pencroft re-enter, guessed that their situation was aggravated. And when he saw Jupe, he no longer doubted that some misfortune menaced Granite House. Captain Harding said he, I must go! I can bear the journey! I must go! Gideon Spillett approached Herbert, then having looked at him. Let us go, then, said he. The question was quickly decided whether Herbert should be carried on a litter or in the cart which had brought Arton to the corral. The motion of the litter would have been more easy for the wounded lad, but it would have necessitated two bearers. That is to say, there would have been two guns less for defense if an attack was made on the road. Would they not, on the contrary, by employing the cart leave every arm free? Was it impossible to place the mattress on which Herbert was lying in it, and to advance with so much care that any jolt should be avoided? It could be done. The cart was brought. Pencroft harnessed the onager. Cyrus Harding and the reporter raised Herbert's mattress and placed it on the bottom of the cart. The weather was fine. The sun's bright rays glanced through the trees. Are the guns ready? asked Cyrus Harding. They were. The engineer and Pencroft, each armed with a double-barreled gun, and Gideon Spillett carrying his rifle, had nothing to do but start. Are you comfortable, Herbert? asked the engineer. Ah, Captain! replied the lad. Don't be uneasy. I shall not die on the road. While speaking thus, it could be seen that the poor boy had called up all his energy, and by the energy of a powerful will had collected his failing strength. The engineer felt his heart sink painfully. He still hesitated to give the signal for departure, but that would have driven Herbert to despair, killed him, perhaps. Forward! said Harding. The gate of the corral was opened. Jupe and Top, who knew when to be silent, ran in advance. The cart came out, the gate was reclosed, and the onager, led by Pencroft, advanced at a slow pace. Certainly it would have been safer to have taken a different road than that which led straight from the corral to the granite house, but the cart would have met with great difficulties in moving under the trees. It was necessary, therefore, to follow this way, although it was well known to the convicts. Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spillett walked one on each side of the cart, ready to answer to any attack. However it was not probable that the convicts would have left the plateau of prospect heights. Nebb's note had evidently been written and sat as soon as the convicts had shown themselves there. Now this note was dated six o'clock in the morning, and the active orang accustomed to come frequently to the corral had taken scarcely three-quarters of an hour to cross the five miles which separated it from granite house. They would, therefore, be safe at that time, and if there was any occasion for firing it would probably not be until they were in the neighborhood of granite house. However the colonists kept a strict watch. Top and jupe, the latter armed with his club, sometimes in front, sometimes beating the wood at the sides of the road, signalized no danger. The cart advanced slowly under Pencroft's guidance. It had left the corral at half-past seven. An hour after, four out of the five miles had been cleared, without any incident having occurred. The road was as deserted as all that part of the jack-a-mar wood which lay between the mercy and the lake. There was no occasion for any warning. The wood appeared as deserted as on the day when the colonists first landed on the island. They approached the plateau. Another mile and they would see the bridge over Creek Glycerin. Cyrus Harding expected to find it in its place, supposing that the convicts would have crossed it, and that, after having passed one of the streams which enclosed the plateau, they would have taken the precaution to lower it again, so as to keep open a retreat. At length an opening in the trees allowed the sea horizon to be seen, but the cart continued its progress, for not one of its defenders thought of abandoning it. At that moment Pencroft stopped the onager, and in a horse voice, �Oh, the villains!� he exclaimed, and he pointed to a thick smoke rising from the mill, the sheds, and the buildings at the poultry yard. A man was moving about in the midst of the smoke. It was Neb. His companions uttered a shout. He heard and ran to meet them. The convicts had left the plateau nearly half an hour before, having devastated it. �And Mr. Herbert� asked Neb, Kitty and Spillett returned to the cart. Herbert had lost consciousness.