 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 15. The colonists, worn by the engineer, left their work engaged in silence at the summit of Mount Franklin. The volcano had awoke, and the vapor had penetrated the mineral layer heaped at the bottom of the crater. But would the subterranean fires provoke any violent eruption? This was an event which could not be foreseen. However, even while admitting the possibility of an eruption, it was not probable that the whole of Lincoln Island would suffer from it. The flow of volcanic matter is not always disastrous, and the island had already undergone this trial, as was shown by the streams of lava hardened on the northern slopes of the mountain. Besides, from the shape of the crater, the opening broken in the upper edge, the matter will be thrown to the side opposite the fertile regions of the island. However, the past did not necessarily answer for the future. Even at the summit of volcanoes, the old craters close, and new ones open. This had occurred in the two hemispheres, at Etna, Papacatapoto, at Orizaba, and on the eve of an eruption there is everything to be feared. In fact, an earthquake, a phenomenon which often accompanies volcanic eruptions, is enough to change the interior arrangement of a mountain and to bring new outlets for the burning lava. Cyrus Harding explained these things to his companions, and without exaggerating the state of things he told them all the pros and cons. After all, they could not prevent it. It did not appear likely that Granite House would be threatened unless the ground was shaken by an earthquake. But the corral would be in great danger should a new crater open in the southern side of Mount Franklin. From that day the smoke never disappeared from the top of the mountain, and it could even be perceived that it increased in height and thickness without any flame mingling in its heavy volumes. The phenomenon was still concentrated in the lower part of the central crater. However, with the fine days work had been continued. The building of the vessel was hastened as much as possible, and by means of the water fall on the shore, Cyrus Harding managed to establish an hydraulic sawmill, which rapidly cut up the trunks of trees into planks and joists. The mechanism of this apparatus was as simple as those used in the rustic sawmills of Norway. A first horizontal movement to move the piece of wood, a second vertical movement to move the saw, this was all that was wanted, and the engineer succeeded by means of a wheel, two cylinders, and pulleys properly arranged. Towards the end of the month of September the skeleton of the vessel, which was to be rigged as a schooner, lay in the dockyard. The ribs were almost entirely completed, and all the timbers having been sustained by a provisional band, the shape of the vessel could already be seen. The schooner, sharp in the boughs, very slender in the after part, would evidently be suitable for a long voyage if wanted, but laying the planking would still take a considerable time. Very fortunately the ironwork of the pirate brig had been saved after the explosion. From the planks and injured ribs, Pencroft and Ayrton had extracted the bolts and a large quantity of copper nails. It was so much work saved for the smiths, but the carpenters had much to do. The shipbuilding was interrupted for a week for the harvest, the haymaking, and the gathering in of the different crops on the plateau. This work finished every moment was devoted to finishing the schooner. When night came the workmen were really quite exhausted. So as not to lose any time they had changed the hours for their meals. They dined at twelve o'clock, and only had their supper when daylight failed them. They then ascended to Granite House when they were always ready to go to bed. Sometimes, however, when the conversation bore on some interesting subject the hour for sleep was delayed for a time. The colonists then spoke of the future, and talked willingly of the changes which a voyage in the schooner to inhabited lands would make in their situation. But always in the midst of these plans prevailed the thought of a subsequent return to Lincoln Island. Never would they abandon this colony, founded with so much labour and with such success, and to which a communication with America would afford a fresh impetus. Pencroft and Nebb especially hoped to end their days there. Herbert, said the sailor, you will never abandon Lincoln Island? Never, Pencroft, and especially if you make up your mind to stay there. That was made up long ago, my boy. Answered Pencroft, I shall expect you. You will bring me your wife and children, and I shall make jolly chaps of your youngsters. That's agreed, replied Herbert, laughing and blushing at the same time. And you, Captain Harding, resumed Pencroft enthusiastically, you will still be the governor of the island. How many inhabitants could it support? Ten thousand at least. They talked in this way, allowing Pencroft to run on, and at last the reporter actually started a newspaper, the New Lincoln Herald. So is man's heart. The desire to perform a work which will endure, which will survive him, is the origin of his superiority over all other living creatures here below. It is this which has established his dominion, and this it is which justifies it over all the world. After that, who knows if Joop and Topp had not themselves their little dream of the future. Ayrton silently said to himself that he would like to see Lord Glenarvon again, and show himself to all restored. One evening, on the fifteenth of October, the conversation was prolonged later than usual. It was nine o'clock. Already long, badly concealed yawns gave warning of the hour of rest, and Pencroft was proceeding towards his bed, when the electric bell, placed in the dining-room, suddenly rang. All were there Cyrus Harding, Gideon Spillett, Herbert, Ayrton, Pencroft, Nebb. Therefore none of the colonists were at the corral. Cyrus Harding rose. His companions stared at each other, scarcely believing their ears. What does that mean, cried Nebb? Was it the devil who rang it? No one answered. The weather is stormy, observed Herbert. Might not its influence of electricity? Herbert did not finish his phrase. The engineer, towards whom all eyes were turned, shook his head negatively. We must wait, said Gideon Spillett. If it is a signal, whoever it may be who has made it, he will renew it. But who do you think it is? cried Nebb. Who? answered Pencroft. But he, the sailor's sentence, was cut short by a new tinkle of the bell. Harding went to the apparatus and sent this question to the corral. What do you want? A few minutes later the needle, moving on the alphabetic dial, gave this reply to the tenants of Granite House. Come to the corral immediately. At last, exclaimed Harding. Yes, at last the mystery was about to be unveiled. The columnist's fatigue had disappeared before the tremendous interest which was about to urge them to the corral, and all wish for rest had ceased. Without having uttered a word, in a few moments they had left Granite House and were standing on the beach. Up and top alone were left behind. They could do without them. The night was black. The new moon had disappeared at the same time as the sun. As Herbert had observed, great stormy clouds formed a lowering and heavy vault, preventing any star rays. A few lightning flashes, reflections from a distant storm, illuminated the horizon. It was possible that a few hours later the thunder would roll over the island itself. The night was very threatening. But however deep the darkness was, it would not prevent them from finding the familiar road to the corral. They ascended the left bank of the mercy, reached the plateau, passed the bridge over Creek Glycerin, and advanced through the forest. They walked at a good pace, a prey to the liveliest emotions. There was no doubt but that they were now going to learn the long search for answer to the enigma, the name of that mysterious being so deeply concerned in their life, so generous in its influence, so powerful in his action. Must not this stranger have indeed mingled with their existence? Have known the smallest details? Have heard all that was said in Granite House to have been able always to act in the very nick of time? One, wrapped up in its own reflections, pressed forward. Under the arch of trees the darkness was such that even the edge of the road could not be seen. Not a sound in the forest, both animals and birds, influenced by the heaviness of the atmosphere, remained motionless and silent. Not a breath disturbed the leaves. The footsteps of the colonists alone resounded down the hardened ground. The first quarter of an hour this silence was only interrupted by this remark from Pencroft. We ought to have brought a torch! And by this reply from the engineer, we shall find one at the corral. Harding and his companions had left Granite House at twelve minutes past nine. At forty-seven minutes past nine they had traversed three out of the five miles which separated the mouth of the mercy from the corral. At that moment sheets of lightning spread over the island and illumined the dark trees. The flashes dazzled and almost blinded them. Evidently the storm would not be long in bursting forth. The flashes gradually became brighter and more rapid. Distant thunder growled in the sky. The atmosphere was stifling. The colonists proceeded as if they were urged onwards by some irresistible force. At ten o'clock a vivid flash showed them the palisade and as they reached the gate the storm burst forth with tremendous fury. In a minute the corral was crossed and Harding stood before the hut. Probably the house was occupied by the stranger since it was from dense that the telegram had been sent. However, no light shone through the window. The engineer knocked at the door. No answer. Cyrus Harding opened the door and the settlers entered the room which was perfectly dark. A light was struck by neb and in a few moments the lantern was lighted and the light thrown into every corner of the room. There was no one there. Everything was in the state in which it had been left. Have we been deceived by an illusion? murmured Cyrus Harding. No, that was not possible. The telegram had clearly said, come to the corral immediately. They approached the table specially devoted to the use of the wire. Everything was in order, the pile on the box containing it as well as all the apparatus. Who came here the last time? asked the engineer. I did, Captain, answered Ayrton. And that was four days ago. Ah, a note, cried Herbert, pointing to a paper lying on the table. On this paper were written these words in English. Follow the new wire. Forward! cried Harding, who understood that the dispatch had not been sent from the corral, but from the mysterious retreat communicating directly with Granthet House by means of a supplementary wire joined to the old one. Neb took the lighted lantern and all left the corral. The storm then burst forth with tremendous violence. The interval between each lightning flash and each thunder-clap diminished rapidly. The summit of the volcano, with its plume of vapor, could be seen by occasional flashes. There was no telegraphic communication in any part of the corral between the house and the palisade, but the engineer, running straight to the first post, saw by the light of a flash a new wire hanging from the isolator to the ground. There it is, said he. This wire lay along the ground and was surrounded by an isolating substance like a submarine cable, so as to assure the free transmission of the current. It appeared to pass through the wood in the southern spurs of the mountain, and consequently it ran towards the west. Follow it, said Cyrus Harding. And the settlers immediately pressed forward, guided by the wire. The thunder continued to roar with such violence that a word could not be heard. However, there was no occasion for speaking, but to get forward as fast as possible. Cyrus Harding and his companions then climbed the spur rising between the corral valley and that of Falls River, which they crossed at its narrowest part. The wire, sometimes stretched over the lower branches of the trees, sometimes lying on the ground, guided them surely. The engineer had supposed that the wire would perhaps stop at the bottom of the valley and that the stranger's retreat would be there. Nothing of the sort. They were obliged to ascend the southwestern spur and re-descend on that arid plateau terminated by the strangely wild Bessalt Cliff. From time to time one of the colonists stooped down and felt for the wire with his hands, but there was now no doubt that the wire was running directly towards the sea. There to a certainty in the depths of those rocks was the dwelling so long sought for in vain. The sky was literally on fire. Flash succeeded flash. Several struck the summit of the volcano in the midst of the thick smoke. It appeared there as if the mountain was vomiting flame. At a few minutes to eleven the colonists arrived on the high cliff overlooking the ocean to the west. The wind had risen, the surf roared five hundred feet below. Harding calculated that they had gone a mile and a half from the corral. At this point the wire entered among the rocks, following the steep side of a narrow ravine. The settlers followed it at the risk of occasioning a fall of the slightly balanced rocks and being dashed into the sea. The descent was extremely perilous, but they did not think of the danger. They were no longer masters of themselves, and an irresistible attraction drew them towards this mysterious place as the magnet draws iron. Thus they almost unconsciously descended this ravine, which even in broad daylight would have been considered impracticable. The stones rolled and sparkled like fiery balls when they crossed through the gleams of light. Harding was first, Ayrton last. On they went, step by step. Now they slid over the slippery rock. Then they struggled to their feet and scrambled on. At last the wire touched the rocks on the beach. The colonists had reached the bottom of the basalt cliff. There appeared a narrow ridge running horizontally and parallel with the sea. The settlers followed the wire along it. They had not gone a hundred paces when the ridge by a moderate incline sloped down to the level of the sea. The engineer seized the wire and found that it disappeared beneath the waves. His companions were stupefied. A cry of disappointment, almost a cry of despair, escaped them. Did they then plunge beneath the water and seek there for some submarine cavern? In their excited state they would not have hesitated to do it. The engineer stopped them. He led his companions to a hollow in the rocks, and there, We must wait, said he, the tide is high. At low water the way will be open. But what can make you think, asked Pencroft? He would not have called us if the means had been wanting to enable us to reach him. Cyrus Harding spoke in a tone of such thorough conviction that no objection was raised. His remark, besides, was logical. It was quite possible that an opening practicable at low water, though hidden now by the high tide, opened at the foot of the cliff. There was some time to wait. The colonists remained silently crouching in a deep hollow. The sea now began to fall in torrents. The thunder was re-echoed among the rocks with a grand sonorousness. The colonists' emotion was great. A thousand strange and extraordinary ideas crossed their brains, and they expected some grand and superhuman apparition, which alone could come up to the notion they had formed of the mysterious genius of the island. At midnight Harding, carrying the lantern, descended to the beach to reconnoiter. The engineer was not mistaken. The beginning of an immense excavation could be seen under the water. There the wire, bending at a right angle, entered the yawning gulf. Cyrus Harding returned to his companions and said simply, In an hour the opening will be practicable. Is it there, then? said Pencroft. Did you doubt it? returned Harding. But this cavern must be filled with water to a certain height, observed Harvard. Either the cavern will be completely dry, replied Harding, and in that case we can traverse it on foot, or it will not be dry, and some means of transport will be put at our disposal. An hour passed. All climbed down through the rain to the level of the sea. There was now eight feet of the opening above the water. It was like the arch of a bridge, under which rushed the foaming water. Leaning forward, the engineer saw a black object floating on the water. He drew it towards him. It was a boat, moored to some interior projection of the cave. This boat was iron-plated. Two oars lay at the bottom. Jump in, said Harding. In a moment the settlers were in the boat. Nebb and Ayrton took the oars, Pencroft the rudder. Cyrus Harding in the boughs with the lantern lighted the way. The elliptical roof, under which the boat at first passed, suddenly rose. But the darkness was too deep, and the light of the lantern too slight, for either the extent, length, height, or depth of the cave to be ascertained. Solemn silence reigned in this basaltic cavern. Not a sound could penetrate into it. Even the thunder-peels could not pierce its thick sides. Such immense caves exist in various parts of the world, natural crypts dating from the geological epoch of the globe. Some are filled by the sea. Others contain entire lakes in their sides. Such is Fingal's Cave, in the island of Stapha, one of the Hebrides. Such are the caves of Morgat, in the Bay of Duane, in Brittany. The caves of Bonifacio, in Corsica. Those of Lise of Fjord, in Norway. Such are the immense mammoth caverns in Kentucky, five hundred feet in height, and more than twenty miles in length. In many parts of the globe nature has excavated these caverns and preserved them for the admiration of man. Did the cavern which the settlers were now exploring extend to the center of the island? For a quarter of an hour the boat had been advancing, making detours, indicated to Pencroft by the engineer in short sentences, when all it wants, more to the right, he commanded. The boat, altering its course, ran up alongside the right wall. The engineer wished to see if the wire still ran along the side. The wire was there fastened to the rock. Forward, said Harding. And the two oars, plunging into the dark waters, urged the boat onwards. On they went for another quarter of an hour, and a distance of half a mile must have been cleared from the mouth of the cave, when Harding's voice was again heard. Stop! said he. The boat stopped, and the colonists perceived a bright light illuminating the vast cavern, so deeply excavated in the bowels of the island of which nothing had ever led them to suspect the existence. At the height of a hundred feet rose the vaulted roof, supported on basalt shafts. Irregular arches, strange moldings, appeared on the columns erected by nature in thousands from the first epics of the formation of the globe. The basalt pillars fitted one into the other, measured from forty to fifty feet in height, and the water, calm in spite of the tumult outside, washed their base. The brilliant focus of light, pointed out by the engineer, touched every point of rock and flooded the walls with light. By reflection the water reproduced the brilliant sparkles, so that the boat appeared to be floating between two glittering zones. They could not be mistaken in the nature of the irradiation thrown from the glowing nucleus, whose clear rays were shattered by all the angles, all the projections of the cavern. This light proceeded from an electric source, and its white color betrayed its origin. It was the sun of this cave, and it filled it entirely. This sign from Cyrus Harding, the oars again plunged into the water, causing a regular shower of gems, and the boat was urged forward towards the light, which was now not more than half a cable's length distant. At this place the breadth of the sheet of water measured nearly three hundred and fifty feet, and beyond the dazzling center could be seen an enormous basaltic wall, blocking up any issue on that side. The cavern widened here considerably, the sea forming a little lake. But the roof, the side walls, the end cliff, all the prisons, all the peaks, were flooded with the electric fluid, so that the brilliancy belonged to them, and as if the light issued from them. In the center of the lake a long cigar-shaped object floated on the surface of the water, silent, motionless. The brilliancy which issued from it escaped from its sides as from two kilns heated to a white heat. This apparatus, similar in shape to an enormous whale, was about two hundred and fifty feet long, and rose about ten or twelve above the water. The boat slowly approached it. Cyrus Harding stood up in the boughs. He gazed, a parade of violent excitement. And all at once, seizing the reporter's arm. It is he! It can only be he! he cried. He! Then falling back on the seat, he murmured a name which Gideon Spillett alone could hear. The reporter evidently knew this name, for it had a wonderful effect upon him, and he answered in a hoarse voice. He! An outlawed man! He! said Harding. At the engineer's command the boat approached this singular floating apparatus. The boat touched the left side, from which escaped a ray of light through a thick glass. Harding and his companions mounted on the platform. An open hatchway was there. All darted down the opening. At the bottom of the ladder was a deck, lighted by electricity. At the end of this deck was a door which Harding opened. A richly ornamented room, quickly traversed by the colonists, was joined to a library over which a luminous ceiling shed a flood of light. At the end of the library a large door, also shut, was opened by the engineer. An immense saloon, a sort of museum in which were heaped up with all the treasures of the mineral world, works of art, marvels of industry, appeared before the eyes of the colonists, who almost thought themselves suddenly transported into a land of enchantment. Stretched on a rich sofa they saw a man who did not appear to notice their presence. Then Harding raised his voice, and to the extreme surprise of his companions he uttered these words. The Mysterious Island. Chapter 16 At these words the reclining figure rose, and the electric light fell upon his countenance, a magnificent head, the forehead high, the glance commanding, beard white, hair abundant and falling over the shoulders. His hand rested upon the cushion of the divan from which he had just risen. He appeared perfectly calm. It was evident that his strength had been gradually undermined by illness, but his voice seemed yet powerful, as he said in English and in a tone which evinced extreme surprise. Sir, I have no name. Nevertheless, I know you, replied Cyrus Harding. Captain Nemo fixed his penetrating gaze upon the engineer, as though he were about to annihilate him. Then falling back amid the pillows of the divan. After all, what matters now, he murmured. I am dying. Cyrus Harding drew near the captain, and Gideon Spillett took his hand. It was of a feverish heat. Ayrton, Pencroft, Herbert and Nebb stood respectfully apart in an angle of the magnificent saloon whose atmosphere was saturated with the electric fluid. Meanwhile, Captain Nemo withdrew his hand and motioned the engineer and the reporter to be seated. General regarded him with profound emotion. Before them they beheld that being whom they had styled the genius of the island, the powerful protector whose intervention, in so many circumstances, had been so efficacious, the benefactor to whom they owed such a debt of gratitude. Their eyes beheld a man only, and a man at the point of death, where Pencroft and Nebb had expected to find an almost supernatural being. But how happened it that Cyrus Harding had recognized Captain Nemo? Why had the latter so suddenly risen on hearing this name uttered, a name which he believed known to none? The captain had resumed his position on the divan, and leaning on his arm, he regarded the engineer seated near him. You know the name I formerly bore, sir? He asked. I do," answered Cyrus Harding, and also that of this wonderful submarine vessel. The Nautilus said the captain with a faint smile. The Nautilus. But do you know who I am? I do. It is nevertheless many years since I have held any communication with the inhabited world. Three long years have I passed in the depth of the sea, the only place where I have found liberty. Who then can have betrayed my secret? A man who was bound to you by no tie, Captain Nemo, and who consequently cannot be accused of treachery. The Frenchman who was cast on board my vessel by chance sixteen years since? The same. He and his two companions did not then perish in the maelstrom, in the midst of which the Nautilus was struggling. They escaped, and a book has appeared under the title of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, which contains your history. The history of a few months only of my life interrupted the captain impetuously. It is true," answered Cyrus Harding, but a few months of that strange life have sufficed to make you known as a great criminal doubtless, said Captain Nemo, a haughty smile curling his lips. Yes, a rebel, perhaps an outlaw against humanity. The engineer was silent. Well, sir. It is not for me to judge you, Captain Nemo," answered Cyrus Harding, at any rate as regards your past life. I am, with the rest of the world, ignorant of the motives which induced you to adopt this strange mode of existence, and I cannot judge of effects without knowing their causes. But what I do know is, that a beneficent hand has constantly protected us since our arrival in Lincoln Island, that we all owe our lives to a good, generous, and powerful being, and that this being so powerful, good, and generous, Captain Nemo, is yourself. It is I," answered the captain simply. The engineer and the reporter rose. Their companions had drawn near, and the gratitude with which their hearts were charged was about to express itself and their gestures and words. Captain Nemo stopped them by a sign, and in a voice which betrayed more emotion than he doubtless intended to show, "'Wait till you have heard all,' he said. Footnote. The history of Captain Nemo has, in fact, been published under the title of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. Further therefore will apply the observation already made as to the adventures of Ayrton, with regard to the discrepancy of dates. Readers should therefore refer to the note already published on this point. End of Footnote. And the captain, in a few concise sentences, ran over the events of his life. His narrative was short, yet he was obliged to summon up his whole remaining energy to arrive at the end. He was evidently contending against extreme weakness. Several times Cyrus Harding entreated him to repose for a while, but he shook his head, as a man to whom the morrow may never come. And when the reporter offered his assistance, "'It is useless,' he said. My hours are numbered.' Captain Nemo was an Indian, the Prince Dakar, son of a Raja of the then independent territory of Bundukund. His father sent him, when ten years of age, to Europe, in order that he might receive an education in all respects complete, and in the hopes that by his talents and knowledge he might one day take a leading part in raising his long-degraded and heathen country to a level with the nations of Europe. From the age of ten years to that of thirty, Prince Dakar, endowed by nature with their richest gifts of intellect, accumulated knowledge of every kind, and in science, literature, and art his researches were extensive and profound. He traveled over the whole of Europe. His rank and fortune caused him to be everywhere sought after, but the pleasures of the world had for him no attractions. Though young and possessed of every personal advantage, he was ever grave, somber even, devoured by an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, and cherishing in the recesses of his heart the hope that he might become a great and powerful ruler of a free and enlightened people. Still for long the love of science triumphed over all other feelings. He became an artist deeply impressed by the marvels of art, a philosopher to whom no one of the higher sciences was unknown, a statesman versed in the policy of European courts. To the eyes of those who observed him superficially, he might have passed for one of those cosmopolitan's curious of knowledge, but disdaining action, one of those opulent travelers, haughty and cynical, who move incessantly from place to place and are of no country. This artist, this philosopher, this man was, however, still cherishing the hope instilled into him from his earliest days. Prince Dakar returned to Bundukund in the year 1849. He married a noble Indian lady, who was imbued with an ambition not less ardent than that by which he was inspired. Two children were born to them, whom they tenderly loved. But domestic happiness did not prevent him from seeking to carry out the object at which he aimed. He waited in opportunity, at length, as he vainly fancied it presented itself. Instigated by princes equally ambitious and less sagacious and more unscrupulous than he was, the people of India were persuaded that they might successfully rise against their English rulers, who had brought them out of a state of anarchy and constant warfare and misery, and had established peace and prosperity in their country. Their ignorance and gross superstition made them the facile tools of their designing chiefs. In 1857 the Great Seapoy revolt broke out. Prince Dakar, under the belief that he should thereby have the opportunity of attaining the object of his long cherished ambition, was easily drawn into it. He forthwith devoted his talents and wealth to the service of this cause. He aided it in person. He fought in the front ranks. He risked his life equally with the humblest of the wretched and misguided fanatics. He was ten times wounded in twenty engagements, seeking death but finding it not. But at length the sanguinary rebels were utterly defeated, and the atrocious mutiny was brought to an end. Never before had the British power in India been exposed to such danger, and if, as they had hoped, the Seapoys had received assistance from without. The influence and supremacy in Asia of the United Kingdom would have been a thing of the past. The name of Prince Dakar was at that time well known. He had fought openly and without concealment. A price was set upon his head, but he managed to escape from his pursuers. Civilization never recedes. The law of necessity ever forces it onwards. The Seapoys were vanquished, and the land of the rogers of old fell again under the rule of England. Prince Dakar, unable to find that death he courted, returned to the mountain fastnesses of Bundukund. There alone in the world, overcome by disappointment at the destruction of all his vain hopes, a prey to profound disgust for all human beings, filled with hatred of the civilized world, he realized the wreck of his fortune. But some score of his most faithful companions, and one day disappeared, leaving no trace behind. Where then did he seek that liberty denied him upon the inhabited earth? Under the waves, in the depths of the ocean where none could follow. The warrior became the man of science. Upon a deserted island of the Pacific he established his dockyard, and there a submarine vessel was constructed from his designs. By methods which will at some future day be revealed, he had rendered subservient the illimitable forces of electricity, which, extracted from inexhaustible sources, was employed for all the requirements of his floating equipage, as a moving, lighting and heating agent. The sea, with its countless treasures, its myriads of fish, its numberless wrecks, its enormous memelia, and not only all that nature supplied, but also all that man had lost in its depths, suffice for every want of the prince and his crew, and thus was his most ardent desire accomplished, never again to hold communication with the earth. He named his submarine vessel the Nautilus, called himself simply Captain Nemo, and disappeared beneath the seas. During many years this strange being visited every ocean from pole to pole. Outcast of the inhabited earth and these unknown worlds he gathered incalculable treasures. The millions lost in the Bay of Vigo in 1702 by the galleons of Spain furnished him with a mine of inexhaustible riches which he devoted always, anonymously, in favor of those nations who fought for the independence of their country. This refers to the insurrection of the Candiotes, who were, in fact, largely assisted by Captain Nemo, and a footnote. For long, however, he had held no communication with his fellow creatures, when, during the night of the 6th of November, 1866, three men were cast on board his vessel. They were a French professor, his servant, and a Canadian fisherman. These three men had been hurled overboard by a collision which had taken place between the Nautilus and the United States frigate Abraham Lincoln, which had chased her. Captain Nemo learned from this professor that the Nautilus, taken now for a gigantic mammal of the whale species, now for a submarine vessel carrying a crew of pirates, was sought for in every sea. He might have returned these three men to the ocean. From whence Chance had brought them in contact with his mysterious existence. Instead of doing this he kept them prisoners, and during seven months they were enabled to behold all the wonders of a voyage of twenty thousand leagues under the sea. One day, the 22nd of June, 1867, these three men, who knew nothing of the past history of Captain Nemo, succeeded in escaping in one of the Nautilus's boats. But as at this time the Nautilus was drawn into the vortex of the maelstrom off the coast of Norway, the Captain naturally believed that the fugitives engulfed in that frightful whirlpool found their death at the bottom of the abyss. He was unaware that the Frenchman and his two companions had been miraculously cast on shore, that the fishermen of the Lafautin Islands had rendered them assistance, and that the professor, on his return to France, had published that work in which seven months of the strange and eventful navigation of the Nautilus were narrated and exposed to the curiosity of the public. For a long time after this, Captain Nemo continued to live thus, traversing every sea. But one by one his companions died, and found their last resting place in their cemetery of coral in the bed of the Pacific. At last Captain Nemo remained the solitary survivor of all those who had taken refuge with him in the depths of the ocean. He was now sixty years of age, although alone he succeeded in navigating the Nautilus towards one of those submarine caverns which had sometimes served him as a harbour. One of these ports was hollowed beneath Lincoln Island, and at this moment furnished an asylum to the Nautilus. The Captain had now remained there six years, navigating the ocean no longer, but awaiting death, and that moment when he should rejoin his former companions. When by chance he observed the descent of the balloon which carried the prisoners of the Confederates. Clad in his diving dress he was walking beneath the water at a few cables length from the shore of the island, when the engineer had been thrown into the sea. Moved by a feeling of compassion the Captain saved Cyrus Harding. His first impulse was to fly from the vicinity of the five castaways, but his harbour refuge was closed, for in consequence of an elevation of the best salt produced by the influence of volcanic action he could no longer pass through the entrance of the vault. Though there was sufficient depth of water to allow a light craft to pass the bar, there was not enough for the Nautilus, whose draft of water was considerable. Captain Nemo was compelled therefore to remain. He observed these men thrown without resources upon a desert island, but had no wish to be himself discovered by them. By degrees he became interested in their efforts when he saw them honest, energetic, and bound to each other by the ties of friendship. As if despite his wishes he penetrated all the secrets of their existence. By means of the diving dress he could easily reach the well in the interior of Granite House, and climbing by the projections of rock to its upper orifice, he heard the colonists as they recounted the past, and studied the present and future. He learned from them the tremendous conflict of America with America itself for the abolition of slavery. Yes, these men were worthy to reconcile Captain Nemo with that humanity which they represented so nobly in the island. Captain Nemo had saved Cyrus Harding. It was he also who had brought back the dog to the chimneys, who rescued Top from the waters of the lake, who caused to fall at Flotsam Point the case containing so many things useful to the colonists, who conveyed the canoe back into the stream of the mercy, who cast the cord from the top of Granite House at the time of the attack by the baboons, who made known the presence of Ayrton upon Tabor Island by means of the document enclosed in the bottle, who caused the explosion of the brig by the shock of a torpedo placed at the bottom of the canal, who saved Herbert from certain death by bringing the sulfate of quinine, and finally it was he who had killed the convicts with the electric balls, of which he possessed the secret, and which he employed in the chase of submarine creatures. Thus were explained so many apparently supernatural occurrences, and which all proved the generosity and power of the Captain. Nevertheless, this noble misanthrope longed to benefit his protégés still further. There yet remained much useful advice to give them, and his heart being softened by the approach of death, he invited, as we are aware, the colonists of Granite House to visit the Nautilus by means of a wire which connected it with the corral. Possibly he would not have done this had he been aware that Cyrus Harding was sufficiently acquainted with his history to address him by the name of Nemo. The Captain concluded the narrative of his life. As Cyrus Harding then spoke, he recalled all the incidents which had exercised so beneficent an influence upon the colony, and in the names of his companions and himself, thanked the generous being to whom they owed so much. But Captain Nemo paid little attention, his mind appeared to be absorbed by one idea, and without taking the proffered hand of the engineer, Now, sir, said he, now that you know my history, your judgment. In saying this, the Captain evidently alluded to an important incident witnessed by the three strangers thrown on board his vessel, in which the French Professor had related in his work, causing a profound and terrible sensation. Some days previous to the flight of the Professor and his two companions, the Nautilus, being chased by a frigate in the north of the Atlantic, had hurled herself as a ram upon this frigate and sunk her without mercy. Cyrus Harding understood the Captain's illusion and was silent. It was an enemy's frigate, exclaimed Captain Nemo, transformed for an instant into the Prince Dakar, an enemy's frigate, it was she who attacked me, I was in a narrow and shallow bay, the frigate barred my way, and I sank her. A few minutes of silence ensued. Then the Captain demanded, What thank you of my life, gentlemen! Cyrus Harding extended his hand to the c-devant prince and replied gravely. Sir, your error wasn't supposing that the past can be resuscitated, and in contending against inevitable progress. It is one of those errors which sub-enmire, others blame, which God alone can judge. He who is mistaken in an action which he sincerely believes to be right may be an enemy, but retains our esteem. Your error is one that we may admire, and your name has nothing to fear from the judgment of history, which does not condemn heroic folly but its results. The old man's breast swelled with emotion, and raising his hand to heaven. Was I wrong or in the right? He murmured. Cyrus Harding replied, All great actions return to God, from whom they are derived. Captain Nemo, we whom you have suckered, shall ever mourn your loss. Herbert, who had drawn near the Captain, fell on his knees and kissed his hand. A tear glistened in the eyes of the dying man. My child, he said, may God bless you. CHAPTER XVII Day had returned. No ray of light penetrated into the profundity of the cavern. It being high water, the entrance was closed by the sea, but the artificial light, which escaped in long streams from the skylights of the Nautilus, was as vivid as before, and the sheet of water shone around the floating vessel. An extreme exhaustion now overcame Captain Nemo, who had fallen back upon the divan. It was useless to contemplate removing him to Granite House, for he had expressed his wish to remain in the midst of those marvels of the Nautilus which millions could not have purchased, and to wait there for that death which was swiftly approaching. During a long interval of prostration, which rendered him almost unconscious, Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spillett attentively observed the condition of the dying man. It was apparent that his strength was gradually diminishing. That frame, once so robust, was now but the fragile tenement of a departing soul. All of life was concentrated in the heart and head. The engineer and reporter consulted in whispers. Was it possible to render any aid to the dying man? Might his life, if not saved, be prolonged for some days? Gideon himself had said that no remedy could avail, and he awaited with tranquility that death which had for him no terrors. We can do nothing, said Gideon Spillett. But of what is he dying, asked Pencroft? Life is simply fading out, replied the reporter. Nevertheless, said the sailor, if we move him into the open air and the light of the sun, he might perhaps recover. No, Pencroft, answered the engineer, it is useless to attempt it. Besides, Captain Nemo would never consent to leave his vessel. He has lived for a dozen years on board the Nautilus, and on board the Nautilus he desires to die. Without doubt Captain Nemo heard Cyrus Harding's reply, for he raised himself slightly and in a voice more feeble, but always intelligible. You are right, sir, he said, I shall die here. It is my wish, and therefore I have a request to make of you. Cyrus Harding and his companions had drawn near the Divan, and now arranged the cushions in such a manner as to better support the dying man. They saw his eyes wander over all the marvels of this saloon, lighted by the electric rays which fell from the arabesques of the luminous ceiling. He surveyed, one after the other, the pictures hanging from the splendid tapestries of the partitions, the chef d'oeuvre of the Italian, Flemish, French, and Spanish masters, the statues of marble and bronze on their pedestals, the magnificent organ leaning against the after-partition, the aquarium in which bloomed the most wonderful productions of the sea, marine plants, zooophytes, chaplets of pearls of inestimable value, and finally his eyes rested on this device, inscribed over the pediment of the museum, the motto of the Nautilus, mobiles in mobile. His glance seemed to rest fondly for the last time on these masterpieces of art and of nature, to which he had limited his horizon during a sojourn of so many years in the abysses of the sea. Cyrus Harding respected the captain's silence, and waited till he should speak. After some minutes, during which, doubtless, he passed in review his whole life, Captain Nemo turned to the colonists and said, You consider yourselves, gentlemen, under some obligations to me? Captain, believe us that we would give our lives to prolong yours. Promise, then, continued Captain Nemo, to carry out my last wishes, and I shall be repaid for all I have done for you. We promise, said Cyrus Harding, and by this promise he bound both himself and his companions. Gentlemen, resumed the Captain, Tomorrow I shall be dead. Herbert was about to utter an exclamation, but a sign from the Captain arrested him. Tomorrow I shall die, and I desire no other tomb than the Nautilus. It is my grave. All my friends reposed in the depths of the ocean. Their resting place shall be mine. These words were received with profound silence. Pay attention to my wishes, he continued. The Nautilus is imprisoned in this grotto, the entrance of which is blocked up. But although egress is impossible, the vessel may at least sink in the abyss, and there bury my remains. The colonists listened reverently to the words of the dying man. Tomorrow, after my death, Mr. Harding, continued the Captain, yourself and companions will leave the Nautilus, for all the treasures it contains must perish with me. One token alone will remain of you of Prince Dakar, with whose history you are now acquainted. This coffer yonder contains diamonds of the value of many millions, most of them momentous of the time when, husband and father, I thought happiness possible for me, and a collection of pearls gathered by my friends and myself in the depths of the ocean. Of this treasure, at a future day you may make good use. In the hands of such men as yourself and your comrades, Captain Harding, money will never be a source of danger. From on high I shall still participate in your enterprises, and I fear not, but that they will prosper. After a few moments repose, necessitated by his extreme weakness, Captain Nemo continued, to-morrow you will take the coffer, you will leave the saloon of which you will close the door, then you will ascend on to the deck of the Nautilus, and you will lower the main hatch so as entirely to close the vessel. It shall be done, Captain, answered Cyrus Harding. Good! you will then embark in the canoe which brought you hither, but before leaving the Nautilus go to the stern, and there open two large stop-cocks which you will find upon the water-line. The water will penetrate into the reservoirs, and the Nautilus will gradually sink beneath the water to repose at the bottom of the abyss. And comprehending a gesture of Cyrus Harding, the Captain added, fear nothing, you will but bury a corpse. Neither Cyrus Harding nor his companions ventured to offer any observation to Captain Nemo. He had expressed his last wishes, and they had nothing to do but to conform to them. I have your promise, gentlemen? added Captain Nemo. You have, Captain, replied the engineer. The Captain thanked the colonists by his sign, and requested them to leave him for some hours. Gideon spillet wished to remain near him in the event of a crisis coming on, but the dying man refused, saying, I shall live until tomorrow, sir. All left the saloon, passed through the library and the dining-room, and arrived forward in the machine-room where the electrical apparatus was established, which supplied not only heat and light, but the mechanical power of the Nautilus. The Nautilus was a masterpiece containing masterpieces within itself, and the engineer was struck with astonishment. The colonists mounted the platform, which rose seven or eight feet above the water. There they beheld a thick glass lenticular covering, which protected a kind of large eye from which flashed forth light. Behind this eye was apparently a cabin containing the wheels of the rudder, and in which was stationed the helmsman when he navigated the Nautilus over the bed of the ocean, which the electric rays would evidently light up to a considerable distance. Cyrus Harding and his companions remained for a time silent, for they were vividly impressed by what they had just seen and heard, and their hearts were deeply touched by the thought that he whose arm had so often aided them, the protector whom they had known but a few hours, was at the point of death. Whatever might be the judgment pronounced by posterity upon the events of this, so to speak, extra human existence? The character of Prince Dakar would ever remain as one of those whose memory time can never efface. What a man! said Pencroft. Is it possible that he can have lived at the bottom of the sea? And it seems to me that perhaps he has not found peace there any more than elsewhere. The Nautilus, observed Ayrton, might have enabled us to leave Lincoln Island and reach some inhabited country. Good heavens! exclaimed Pencroft. I for one would never risk myself in such a craft. To sail on the seas, good, but under the seas, never. I believe, Pencroft, answered the reporter, that the navigation of a submarine vessel such as the Nautilus ought to be very easy, and that we should soon become accustomed to it. There would be no storms, no lee shore to fear. At some feet beneath the surface, the waters of the ocean are as calm as those of a lake. That may be, replied the sailor, but I prefer a gale of wind on board a well-found craft. A vessel is built to sail on the sea and up beneath it. My friends, said the engineer, it is useless at any rate as regards the Nautilus to discuss the question of submarine vessels. The Nautilus is not ours, and we have not the right to dispose of it. Moreover, we could in no case avail ourselves of it, independently of the fact that it would be impossible to get it out of this cavern, whose entrance is now closed by the uprising of the basaltic rocks. Captain Nemo's wish is that it shall be buried with him. His wish is our law, and we will fulfill it. After a somewhat prolonged conversation, Cyrus Harding and his companions again descended to the interior of the Nautilus. There they took some refreshment and returned to the saloon. Captain Nemo had somewhat rallied from the prostration which had overcome him, in his eyes shown with her wanted fire. A faint smile even curled his lips. The colonists drew around him. "'Gentlemen,' said the captain, "'you are brave and honest men. You have devoted yourself to the common wheel. Often have I observed your conduct. I have esteemed you. I esteem you still. Your hand, Mr. Harding.' Cyrus Harding gave his hand to the captain, who clasped it affectionately. "'It is well,' he murmured. He resumed. "'But enough of myself. I have to speak concerning yourselves, and this Lincoln Island upon which you have taken refuge. You now desire to leave it?' "'To return, Captain,' answered Pencroft quickly. "'To return, Pencroft,' said the captain, with a smile, "'I know it is true your love for this island. You have helped to make it what it now is, and it seems to you a paradise.' "'Our project, Captain,' interposed Cyrus Harding, "'is to annex it to the United States, and to establish for our shipping a port so fortunately situated in this part of the Pacific. "'Your thoughts are with your country, gentlemen,' continued the captain. "'Your toils are for her prosperity and glory. You are right. One's native land. There should one live. There die. And I. I die far from all I loved.' "'You have some last wish to transmit,' said the engineer with emotion. Some souvenir to send to those friends you have left in the mountains of India.' "'No, Captain Harding. No friends remain to me. I am the last of my race. And to all whom I have known I have long been as are the dead. But to return to yourselves. Solitude, isolation, are painful things, and beyond human endurance. I die of having thought it possible to live alone. You should therefore dare all in the attempt to leave Lincoln Island, and see once more the land of your birth. I am aware that those wretches have destroyed the vessel you have built.' "'We propose to construct the vessel,' said Gideon Spillett, sufficiently large to convey us to the nearest land. But if we should succeed, sooner or later we shall return to Lincoln Island. We are attached to it by too many recollections ever to forget it.' "'It is here that we have known, Captain Nemo,' said Cyrus Harding. "'It is here only that we can make our home,' added Herbert. "'And here shall I sleep, the sleep of eternity,' if,' replied the Captain. He paused for a moment, and instead of completing the sentence, said simply, "'Mr. Harding, I wish to speak with you alone.' The engineer's companions, respecting the wish, retired. Cyrus Harding remained but a few minutes alone with Captain Nemo, and soon recalled his companions. But he said nothing to them of the private matters which the dying man had confided to him. Gideon Spillett now watched the Captain with extreme care. It was evident that he was no longer sustained by his moral energy, which had lost the power of reaction against his physical weakness. The day closed without change. The colonists did not quit the nautilus for a moment. Night arrived, although it was impossible to distinguish it from day in the cavern. Captain Nemo suffered no pain, but he was visibly sinking. His noble features, paled by the approach of death, were perfectly calm. Inaudible words escaped at intervals from his lips, bearing upon various incidents of his checkered career. Death was evidently ebbing slowly, and his extremities were already cold. Once or twice more he spoke to the colonists who stood around him, and smiled on them with that last smile which continues after death. At length, shortly after midnight, Captain Nemo by a supreme effort succeeded in folding his arms across his breast, as if wishing in that attitude to compose himself for death. At one o'clock his glance alone showed signs of life. A dying light gleamed in those eyes, once so brilliant. Then murmuring the words, God and my country, he quietly expired. Cyrus Harding, bending low, closed the eyes of him who had once been the Prince Dakar, and was now not even Captain Nemo. Herbert and Pencroft sobbed aloud. Cyrus fell from Ayrton's eyes. Neb was on his knees by the reporter's side, motionless as a statue. Then Cyrus Harding, extending his hand over the forehead of the dead, said solemnly, May his soul be with God. Turning to his friends, he added, Let us pray for him whom we have lost. Some hours later the colonists fulfilled the promise made to the captain by carrying out his dying wishes. Cyrus Harding and his companions quitted the Nautilus, taking with them the only momento left them by their benefactor, the coffer which contained wealth amounting to millions. The marvelous saloon, still flooded with light, had been carefully closed. The iron door leading on deck was then securely fastened in such a manner as to prevent even a drop of water from penetrating to the interior of the Nautilus. The colonists then descended into the canoe, which was moored to the side of the submarine vessel. The canoe was now brought around to the stern, there at the waterline, were two large stop-cocks communicating with the reservoirs employed in the subversion of the vessel. The stop-cocks were opened, the reservoirs filled, and the Nautilus, slowly sinking, disappeared beneath the surface of the lake. But the colonists were yet able to follow its descent through the waves. The powerful light it gave forth lighted up the translucent water, while the cavern became gradually obscure. At length this vast diffusion of electric light faded away, and soon after the Nautilus, now the tomb of Captain Nemo, reposed in its ocean bed. It was now low water, and they passed without difficulty under the arcade, washed on the right by the sea. The canoe was left here, carefully protected from the waves. As additional precaution, Pencroft Neve and Ayrton drew it up on a little beach, which bordered one of the sides of the grotto, in a spot where it could run no risk of harm. The storm had ceased during the night. The last low mutterings of thunder died away in the west. Rain fell no longer, but the sky was yet obscured by clouds. On the whole, this month of October, the first of the southern spring, was not ushered in by satisfactory tokens, and the wind had a tendency to shift from one point of the compass to another, which rendered it impossible to count upon settled weather. Commander's Harding and his companions, on leaving Dakar grotto, had taken the road to the corral. On their way, Neve and Herbert were careful to preserve the wire which had been laid down by the captain, between the corral and the grotto, and which might, at a future time, be of service. The colonists spoke but little on the road. The various incidents of the night of October 15th had left a profound impression on their minds. The unknown being whose influence had so effectually protected them, the man whom their imagination had endowed with supernatural powers, Captain Nemo, was no more. His nautilus and he were buried in the depths of the abyss. To each one of them their existence seemed even more isolated than before. They had been accustomed to count upon the intervention of that power which existed no longer, and Gideon's spillet and even Cyrus Harding could not escape this impression. Thus they maintained a profound silence during their journey to the corral. Towards nine in the morning the colonists arrived at Granted House. It had been agreed that the construction of the vessel should be actively pushed forward, and Cyrus Harding more than ever devoted his time and labor to this object. It was impossible to define what future lay before them. Evidently the advantage to the colonists would be great of having at their disposal a substantial vessel capable of keeping the sea even in heavy weather, and large enough to attempt, in case of need, a voyage of some duration. Even if, when their vessel should be completed, the colonists should not resolve to leave Lincoln Island as yet, in order to gain either one of the Polynesian archipelagos of the Pacific or the shores of New Zealand, they might at least sooner or later proceed to Table Island to leave there the notice relating to Ayrton. This was a precaution rendered indispensable by the possibility of the Scotch Yacht reappearing in those seas, and it was of the highest importance that nothing should be neglected on this point. The works were then resumed. Cyrus Harding, Pencroft and Ayrton, assisted by Neb, Gideon, Spillard, and Herbert, except when unavoidably called off by other necessary occupations, worked without cessation. It was important that the new vessel should be ready in five months, that is to say, by the beginning of March, if they wished to visit Table Island before the equinoctial gales rendered the voyage impracticable. Therefore the Carpenters lost not a moment. Moreover it was unnecessary to manufacture rigging that of the speedy having been saved entire, so that the hull only of the vessel need to be constructed. The end of the year 1868 found them occupied by these important labours, to the exclusion of almost all others. At the expiration of two months and a half the ribs had been set up and the first planks adjusted. It was already evident that the plans made by Cyrus Harding were admirable and that the vessel would behave well at sea. Pencroft brought to the task a devouring energy and would even grumble when one of the other abandoned the Carpenters' acts for the gun of the hunter. It was nevertheless necessary to keep up the stores of Granite House, in view of the approaching winter. But this did not satisfy Pencroft. The brave honest sailor was not content when the workmen were not at the dockyard. When this happened he grumbled vigorously and by way of venting his feelings did the work of six men. The weather was very unfavorable during the whole of the summer season. For some days the heat was overpowering and the atmosphere, saturated with electricity, was only cleared by violent storms. It was rarely that the distant growling of the thunder could not be heard like a low but incessant murmur such as is produced in the equatorial regions of the globe. The first of January, 1869, was signalized by a storm of extreme violence and the thunder burst several times over the island. Large trees were struck by the electric fluid and shattered and among others one of those gigantic nettle trees which had shaded the poultry yard at the southern extremity of the lake. Had this meteor any relation to the phenomenon going on in the bowels of the earth, was there any connection between the commotion of the atmosphere and that of the interior of the earth? Cyrus Harding was inclined to think that such was the case, for the development of these storms was attended by the renewal of volcanic symptoms. It was on the third of January that Herbert, having ascended at daybreak to the plateau of Prospect Heights to harness one of the onagers, perceived an enormous hat-shaped cloud rolling from the summit of the volcano. Herbert immediately apprised the colonists who had once joined him in watching the summit of Mount Franklin. Ah! exclaimed Pencroft. Those are not vapours this time. It seems to me that the giant is not content with breathing. He must smoke! This figure of speech employed by the sailor exactly expressed the changes going on at the mouth of the volcano. Already for three months had the crater emitted vapours more or less dense, but which were as yet produced only by an internal ebullition of mineral substances. But now the vapours were replaced by a thick smoke rising in the form of a grayish column, more than three hundred feet in width at its base, and which spread like an immense mushroom to a height of from seven to eight hundred feet above the summit of the mountain. The fire is in the chimney. Observed Gideon's spillet. And we can't put it out, replied Herbert. The volcano ought to be swept. Observed Neb, who spoke as if perfectly serious. Well said, Neb! cried Pencroft with a shout of laughter. And you'll undertake the job, no doubt! Cyrus Harding have tentatively observed that dense smoke emitted by Mount Franklin, and even listened, as if expecting to hear some distant muttering. Then turning towards his companions, from whom he had gone somewhat apart, he said, The truth is, my friends, we must not conceal from ourselves that an important change is going forward. The volcanic substances are no longer in a state of ebullition. They have caught fire, and we are undoubtedly menaced by an approaching eruption. Well, Captain, said Pencroft, we shall witness the eruption, and if it is a good one, we'll applaud it. I don't see that we need concern ourselves further about the matter. It may be so, replied Cyrus Harding, for the ancient track of the lava is still open, and thanks to this the crater has hitherto overflowed towards the north. And yet, as we can derive no advantage from an eruption, it might be better it should not take place, said the reporter. Who knows, answered the sailor, perhaps there may be some valuable substances in this volcano which it will spout forth, and which we may turn to good account. Cyrus Harding shook his head, with the air of a man who augured no good from the phenomenon whose development had been so sudden. He did not regard so lightly as Pencroft the results of an eruption. If the lava, in consequence of the position of the crater, did not directly menace the wooded and cultivated parts of the island, other complications might present themselves. In fact, eruptions are not unfrequently accompanied by earthquakes, and an island of the nature of Lincoln Island, formed of substances so varied, basalt on one side, granite on the other, lava on the north, rich soil on the south, substances which consequently could not be firmly attached to each other, would be exposed to the risk of disintegration. Although, therefore, the spreading of the volcanic matter might not constitute a serious danger, any movement of the terrestrial structure which should shake the island might entail the gravest consequences. It seems to me, said Ayrton, who had reclined so as to place his ear to the ground, it seems to me that I can hear a dull, rumbling sound, like that of a wagon loaded with bars of iron. The colonists listened with the greatest attention, and were convinced that Ayrton was not mistaken. The rumbling was mingled with a subterranean roar, which formed a sort of rinforzando, and died slowly away, as if some violent storm had passed through the profundities of the globe. But no explosion, properly so termed, could be heard. It might therefore be concluded that the vapors and smoke found a free passage through the central shaft, and that the safety valve being sufficiently large, no convulsion would be produced, no explosion was to be apprehended. Well, then, said Pencroft, are we not going back to work? Let Mount Franklin smoke, groan, bellow, or spout forthfire and flame as much as it pleases. That is no reason why we should be idle. Come, Ayrton, Neb, Herbert, Captain Harding, Mr. Spillett, every one of us must turn to at our work today. We are going to place the kielsen, and a dozen pair of hands would not be too many. Before two months I want our new bonadventure, for we shall keep the old name, shall we not, to float on the waters of Port Balloon. Therefore there is not an hour to lose. All the colonists, their services thus requisitioned by Pencroft, descended to the dockyard, and proceeded to place the kielsen, a thick mass of wood which forms the lower portion of a ship, and unites firmly the timbers of the hull. It was an arduous undertaking, in which all took part. They continued their labors during the whole of this day, the third of January, without thinking further of the volcano, which could not besides be seen from the shore of Granite House. But once or twice large shadows veiling the sun, which described its diurnal arc through an extremely clear sky, indicated that a thick cloud of smoke passed between its disk and the island. The wind, blowing on the shore, carried all these vapors to the westward. Cyrus Harding and Gideon's spellet remarked these somber appearances, and from time to time discussed the evident progress of the volcanic phenomena, but their work went on without interruption. It was besides of the first importance from every point of view that the vessel should be finished with the least possible delay. In presence of the eventualities which might arise, the safety of the colonists would be to a great extent secured by their ship. Who could tell that it might not prove some day their only refuge? In the evening, after supper, Cyrus Harding, Gideon's spellet and Herbert again ascended to the plateau of Prospect Heights. It was already dark, and the obscurity would permit them to ascertain if flames or incandescent matter thrown up by the volcano were mingled with the vapor and smoke accumulated at the mouth of the crater. The crater is on fire, said Herbert, who more active than his companions first reached the plateau. Mount Franklin, distant about six miles, now appeared like a gigantic torch around the summit of which turned philogenous flames. So much smoke and possibly scoriae and cinders were mingled with them that their light gleamed but faintly amid the gloom of the night. But a kind of lurid brilliancy spread over the island, against which stood out confusedly the wooded masses at the heights. Immense whirlwinds of vapor obscured the sky, through which glimmered a few stars. The change is rapid, said the engineer. That is not surprising, answered the reporter. The reawakening of the volcano already dates back some time. You may remember, Cyrus, that the first vapours appeared about the time we searched the sides of the mountain to discover Captain Nemo's retreat. It was, if I mistake not, about the fifteenth of October. Yes, replied Herbert, two months and a half ago. The subterranean fires have therefore been smoldering for ten weeks. Resume Gideon's spillet. And it is not to be wondered at that they now break out with such violence. Do you not feel a certain vibration of the soil? asked Cyrus Harding. Yes, replied Gideon's spillet. But there is a great difference between that and an earthquake. I do not affirm that we are menaced with an earthquake, answered Cyrus Harding. May God preserve us from that. No, these vibrations are due to the effervescence of the central fire. The crust of the earth is simply the shell of a boiler. And you know that such a shell, under the pressure of steam, vibrates like a sonorous plate. It is this effect which is being produced at this moment. What magnificent flames! exclaimed Herbert. At this instant a kind of bokeh of flames shot forth from the crater, the brilliancy of which was visible even through the vapours. Flames of luminous sheets and barbed tongues of fire were cast in various directions. Some extending beyond the dome of smoke dissipated it, leaving behind an incandescent powder. This was accompanied by successive explosions resembling the discharge of a battery of machine guns. Cyrus Harding, the reporter in Herbert, after spending an hour on the plateau of Prospect Heights, again descended to the beach and returned to Granite House. The engineer was thoughtful and preoccupied. So much so, indeed, that Gideon Spillett inquired if he apprehended any immediate danger, of which the eruption might directly or indirectly be the cause. Yes and no, answered Cyrus Harding. Nevertheless, continued the reporter, would not the greatest misfortune which could happen to us be an earthquake which would overturn the island? Now I do not suppose that this is to be feared, since the vapours in lava have found a free outlet. True, replied Cyrus Harding, and I do not fear an earthquake in the sense in which the term is commonly applied to convulsions of the soil provoked by the expansion of subterranean gases. But other causes may produce great disasters. How so, my dear Cyrus? I am not certain. I must consider. I must visit the mountain. In a few days I shall learn more on this point. Gideon Spillett said no more, and soon, in spite of the explosions of the volcano, whose intensity increased, and which were repeated by the echoes of the island, the inhabitants of Granite House were sleeping soundly. Three days passed by, the fourth, fifth, and sixth of January. The construction of the vessel was diligently continued, and without offering further explanations the engineer pushed forward to work with all his energy. Mount Franklin was now hooded by a somber cloud of sinister aspect, and amid the flames, vomited forth incandescent rocks, some of which fell back into the crater itself. This caused Pencroft, who would only look at the matter in the light of a joke, to exclaim, Ha! the giant is playing a cup and ball! He is a conjurer! In fact the substances thrown up fell back again into the abyss, and it did not seem that the lava, though swollen by the internal pressure, had yet risen to the orifice of the crater. At any rate the opening on the northeast, which was partly visible, poured out no torrent upon the northern slope of the mountain. Nevertheless, however pressing was the construction of the vessel, other duties demanded the presence of the colonists on various portions of the island. Before everything it was necessary to go to the corral, where the flocks of muslins and goats were enclosed, and replenish the provision of forage for those animals. It was accordingly arranged that air-tent should proceed thither the next day, the seventh of January, and as he was sufficient for the task to which he was accustomed, Pencroft and the rest were somewhat surprised on hearing the engineer say to Ayrton, As you are going to the corral to the corral, I will accompany you. But Captain Harding, exclaimed the sailor, Our working days will not be many, and if you go also we shall be two pair hands short. We shall return to-morrow, replied Cyrus Harding, but it is necessary that I should go to the corral. I must learn how the eruption is progressing. The eruption, always the eruption, answered Pencroft with an air of discontent. An important thing, truly, this eruption, I troubled myself very little about it. Whatever might be the sailor's opinion, the expedition projected by the engineer was settled for the next day. Herbert wished to accompany Cyrus Harding, but he would not fix Pencroft by his absence. The next day at dawn, Cyrus Harding and Ayrton, mounting the cart drawn by two onagers, took the road to the corral and set off at a round trot. Above the forest were passing large clouds, to which the crater of Mount Franklin incessantly added fuliginous matter. These clouds, which rolled heavily in the air, were evidently composed of heterogeneous substances. It was not alone from the volcano that they derived their strange opacity and weight. Scoriae, in a state of dust, like powdered pumice stone, and grayish ashes as small as the finest feculae, were held in suspension in the midst of their thick folds. These ashes are so fine that they have been observed in the air for whole months. After the eruption of 1783 in Iceland, for upwards of a year the atmosphere was thus charged with volcanic dust, through which the rays of the sun were only with difficulty discernible. But more often this pulverized matter falls, and this happened on the present occasion. Cyrus Harding and Ayrton had scarcely reached the corral when a sort of black snow, like fine gunpowder, fell, and instantly changed the appearance of the soil. Trees, meadows, all disappeared beneath the covering several inches in depth. But very fortunately the wind blew from the northeast, and the greater part of the cloud dissolved itself over the sea. This is very singular, Captain Harding, said Ayrton. It is very serious, replied the engineer. This powdered pumice stone, all this mineral dust, proves how grave is the confulsion going forward in the lower depths of the volcano. But can nothing be done? Except to note the progress of the phenomenon. Do you, therefore, Ayrton, occupy yourself with the necessary work at the corral? In the meantime I will ascend just beyond the source of Red Creek, and examine the condition of the mountain upon its northern aspect. Then— Well, Captain Harding, then we will pay a visit to Dakar Grotto. I wish to inspect it. At any rate, I will come back for you in two hours. Ayrton then proceeded to enter the corral, and while awaiting the engineer's return, busied himself with the musk-mons and goats, which seemed to feel a certain uneasiness in presence of these first signs of an eruption. Meanwhile, Cyrus Harding ascended the crest of the eastern spur, passed Red Creek, and arrived at the spot where he and his companions had discovered a sulfurous spring at the time of their first exploration. How changed was everything? Instead of a single column of smoke he counted thirteen, forced through the soil as if violently propelled by some piston. It was evident that the crust of the earth was subjected in this part of the globe to a frightful pressure. The atmosphere was saturated with gases and carbonic acid, mingled with aqueous vapors. Cyrus Harding felt the volcanic tufa with which the plain was strewn, and which was but pulverized cinders hardened into solid blocks by time tremble beneath him, but he could discover no traces of fresh lava. The engineer became more assured of this when he observed all the northern part of Mount Franklin. Pillars of smoke and flame escaped from the crater. A hail of scourier fell on the ground, but no current of lava burst from the mouth of the volcano, which proved that the volcanic matter had not yet attained the level of the superior orifice of the central shaft. But I would prefer that it were so, said Cyrus Harding to himself. At any rate I should then know that the lava had followed its accustomed track. Who can say that it may not take a new course? But the danger does not consist in that. Captain Nemo foresaw it clearly. No, the danger does not lie there. Cyrus Harding advanced towards the enormous causeway whose prolongation enclosed the narrow shark gulf. He could now sufficiently examine on this side the ancient channels of the lava. There was no doubt in his mind that the most recent eruption had occurred at a far distant epic. He then returned by the same way, listening attentively to the subterranean mutterings which rolled like long-continued thunder interrupted by deafening explosions. At nine in the morning he reached the corral. Ayrton awaited him. The animals are cared for, Captain Harding, said Ayrton. Good Ayrton! They seem uneasy, Captain Harding. Yes, instinct speaks through them, and instinct is never deceived. Are you ready? Take a lamp, Ayrton, answered the engineer. We will start at once. Ayrton did as desired. The onagers unharnessed roamed in the corral. The gate was secured on the outside, and Cyrus Harding, proceeding Ayrton, took the narrow path which led westward to the shore. The soil they walked upon was chugged with the pulverized matter fallen from the cloud. No quadruped appeared in the woods. And the birds had fled. Sometimes a passing breeze raised the covering of ashes, and the two colonists enveloped in a whirlwind of dust lost sight of each other. They were then careful to cover their eyes and mouths with handkerchiefs, for they ran the risk of being blinded and suffocated. It was impossible for Cyrus Harding and Ayrton, with these impediments, to make rapid progress. Moreover the atmosphere was close, as if the oxygen had been partly burned up, and had become unfit for respiration. At every hundred paces they were obliged to stop to take breath. It was therefore past ten o'clock when the engineer and his companion reached the crest of the enormous mass of rocks of basalt and porphyry which composed the northwest coast of the island. Even in Cyrus Harding commenced the descent of this abrupt cleavity, following almost step-for-step the difficult path which, during that stormy night, had led them to Dakar Grotto. In open day the descent was less perilous, and besides the bed of ashes which covered the polished surface of the rock enabled them to make their footing more secure. The ridge at the end of the shore, about forty feet in height, was soon reached. Cyrus Harding recollected that this elevation gradually sloped towards the level of the sea. Although the tide was at present low, no beach could be seen, and the waves, thickened by the volcanic dust, beat upon the basaltic rocks. Cyrus Harding and Ayrton found without difficulty the entrance to Dakar Grotto, and paused for a moment at the last rock before it. The iron boat should be there, said the engineer. It is here, Captain Harding, replied Ayrton, drawing towards him the fragile craft which was protected by the arch of the vault. On board, Ayrton. The two columnists stepped into the boat. A slight undulation of the waves carried it farther under the low arch of the crypt, and there Ayrton, with the aid of Flint and Steele, lighted the lamp. He then took the oars, and the lamp having been placed in the bow of the boat, so that its rays fell before them, Cyrus Harding took the helm and steered through the shades of the grotto. The nautilus was there no longer to eliminate the cavern with its electric light. Possibly it might not yet be extinguished, but no ray escaped from the depths of the abyss in which reposed all that was mortal of Captain Nemo. The light afforded by the lamp, although feeble, nevertheless enabled the engineer to advance slowly, following the wall of the cavern. A death-like silence reigned under the vaulted roof, or at least in the interior portion, for soon Cyrus Harding distinctly heard the rumbling which proceeded from the bowels of the mountain. "'That comes from the volcano,' he said. Besides these sounds the presence of chemical combinations was soon betrayed by their powerful odor, and the engineer and his companion were almost suffocated by sulfurous vapors. "'This is what Captain Nemo feared,' murmured Cyrus Harding, changing countenance. "'We must go to the end, not withstanding.' "'Foreward,' replied Ayrton, bending to his oars and directing the boat towards the head of the cavern. "'Twenty-five minutes after entering the mouth of the grotto, the boat reached the extreme end. Cyrus Harding then, standing up, cast the light of the lamp upon the walls of the cavern, which separated it from the central shaft of the volcano. What was the thickness of this wall? It might be ten feet, or a hundred feet, it was impossible to say. But the subterranean sounds were too perceptible to allow of the supposition that it was of any great thickness. The engineer, after having explored the wall at a certain height horizontally, fastened the lamp to the end of an ore, and again surveyed the basaltic wall at a greater elevation. There, through scarcely visible clefs and joinings, escaped a pungent vapor which infected the atmosphere of the cavern. The wall was broken by large cracks, some of which extended to within two or three feet of the water's edge. Cyrus Harding thought for a brief space. Then he said in a low voice, yes, the captain was right. The danger lies there, and a terrible danger. Ayrton said not a word, but upon a sign from Cyrus Harding, resumed the oars, and half an hour later the engineer and he reached the entrance of Dakar Grotto. End of chapter.