The Mysterious Island by Jules Verne (best ebook reader for laptop TXT) 📖

night of the 23d, the hull was thoroughly broken up, and part of the wreck stranded on the beach. As to the ship’s papers, it is needless to say, although they carefully rummaged the closet in the poop, Smith found no trace of them. The pirates had evidently destroyed all that concerned either the captain or the owner of the Speedy, and as the name of its port was not painted on the stern, there was nothing to betray its nationality. However, from the shape of the bow, Ayrton and Pencroff believed the brig to be of English construction.

A week after the ship went down, not a trace of her was to be seen even at low tide. The wreck had gone to pieces, and Granite House had been enriched with almost all its contents. But the mystery of its strange destruction would never have been cleared up, if Neb, rambling along the beach, had not come upon a piece of a thick iron cylinder, which bore traces of an explosion. It was twisted and torn at the edge, as if it had been submitted to the action of an explosive substance. Neb took it to his master, who was busy with his companions in the workshop at the Chimneys. Smith examined it carefully, and then turned to Pencroff.

“Do you still maintain, my friend,” said he, “that the Speedy did not perish by a collision?”

“Yes, Mr. Smith,” replied the sailor, “you know as well as I that there are no rocks in the channel.”

“But suppose it struck against this piece of iron?” said the engineer, showing the broken cylinder.

“What, that pipe stem!” said Pencroff, incredulously.

“Do you remember, my friends,” continued Smith, “that before foundering the brig was lifted up by a sort of waterspout?”

“Yes, Mr. Smith,” said Herbert.

“Well, this was the cause of the waterspout,” said Smith, holding up the broken tube.

“That?” answered Pencroff.

“Yes; this cylinder is all that is left of a torpedo!”

“A torpedo!” cried they all.

“And who put a torpedo there?” asked Pencroff, unwilling to give up.

“That I cannot tell you,” said Smith, “but there it was, and you witnessed its tremendous effects!”

 

CHAPTER XLVII

 

THE ENGINEER’S THEORY—PENCROFF’S MAGNIFICENT SUPPOSITIONS—A BATTERY IN THE AIR—FOUR PROJECTILES—THE SURVIVING CONVICTS—AYRTON HESITATES—SMITH’S GENEROSITY AND PENCROFF’S DISSATISFACTION.

Thus, then, everything was explained by the submarine action of this torpedo. Smith had had some experience during the civil war of these terrible engines of destruction, and was not likely to be mistaken. This cylinder, charged with nitro-glycerine, had been the cause of the column of water rising in the air, of the sinking of the brig, and of the shattered condition of her hull. Everything was accounted for, except the presence of this torpedo in the waters of the channel!

“My friends,” resumed Smith, “we can no longer doubt the existence of some mysterious being, perhaps a castaway like ourselves, inhabiting our island. I say this that Ayrton may be informed of all the strange events which have happened for two years. Who our unknown benefactor may be, I cannot say, nor why he should hide himself after rendering us so many services; but his services are not the less real, and such as only a man could render who wielded some prodigious power. Ayrton is his debtor as well; as he saved me from drowning after the fall of the balloon, so he wrote the document, set the bottle afloat in the channel, and gave us information of our comrade’s condition. He stranded on Jetsam Point that chest, full of all that we needed; he lighted that fire on the heights of the island which showed you where to land; he fired that ball which we found in the body of the peccary; he immersed in the channel that torpedo which destroyed the brig; in short, he has done all those inexplicable things of which we could find no explanation. Whatever he is, then, whether a castaway or an exile, we should be ungrateful not to feel how much we owe him. Some day, I hope, we shall discharge our debt.”

“We may add,” replied Spilett, “that this unknown friend has a way of doing things which seems supernatural. If he did all these wonderful things, he possesses a power which makes him master of the elements.”

“Yes,” said Smith, “there is a mystery here, but if we discover the man we shall discover the mystery also. The question is this:—Shall we respect the incognito of this generous being, or should we try to find him? What do you think?”

“Master,” said Neb, “I have an idea that we may hunt for him as long as we please, but that we shall only find him when he chooses to make himself known.”

“There’s something in that, Neb,” said Pencroff.

“I agree with you, Neb,” said Spilett; “but that is no reason for not making the attempt. Whether we find this mysterious being or not, we shall have fulfilled our duty towards him.”

“And what is your opinion, my boy?” said the engineer, turning to Herbert.

“Ah,” cried Herbert, his eye brightening; “I want to thank him, the man who saved you first and now has saved us all.”

“It wouldn’t be unpleasant for any of us, my boy,” returned Pencroff. “I am not curious, but I would give one of my eyes to see him face to face.”

“And you, Ayrton?” asked the engineer.

“Mr. Smith,” replied Ayrton, “I can give no advice. Whatever you do will be right, and whenever you want my help in your search, I am ready.”

“Thanks, Ayrton,” said Smith, “but I want a more direct answer. You are our comrade, who has offered his life more than once to save ours, and we will take no important step without consulting you.”

“I think, Mr. Smith,” replied Ayrton, “that we ought to do everything to discover our unknown benefactor. He may be sick or suffering. I owe him a debt of gratitude which I can never forget, for he brought you to save me. I will never forget him!”

“It is settled,” said Smith. “We will begin our search as soon as possible. We will leave no part of the island unexplored. We will pry into its most secret recesses, and may our unknown friend pardon our zeal!”

For several days the colonists were actively at work haymaking and harvesting. Before starting upon their exploring tour, they wanted to finish all their important labors. Now, too, was the time for gathering the vegetable products of Tabor Island. Everything had to be stored; and, happily, there was plenty of room in Granite House for all the riches of the island. There all was ranged in order, safe from man or beast. No dampness was to be feared in the midst of this solid mass of granite. Many of the natural excavations in the upper corridor were enlarged by the pick, or blown out by mining, and Granite House thus became a receptacle for all the goods of the colony.

The brig’s guns were pretty pieces of cast-steel, which, at Pencroff’s instance, were hoisted, by means of tackle and cranes, to the very entrance of Granite House; embrasures were constructed between the windows, and soon they could be seen stretching their shining nozzles through the granite wall. From this height these fire-breathing gentry had the range of all Union Bay. It was a little Gibraltar, to whose fire every ship off the islet would inevitably be exposed.

“Mr. Smith,” said Pencroff one day—it was the 8th of November—“now that we have mounted our guns, we ought to try their range.”

“For what purpose?”

“Well, we ought to know how far we can send a ball.”

“Try, then, Pencroff,” answered the engineer; “but don’t use our powder, whose stock I do not want to diminish; use pyroxyline, whose supply will never fail.”

“Can these cannon support the explosive force of pyroxyline?” asked the reporter, who was as eager as Pencroff to try their new artillery.

“I think so. Besides,” added the engineer, “we will be careful.”

Smith had good reason to think that these cannon were well made. They were of cast steel, and breech-loaders, they could evidently bear a heavy charge, and consequently would have a long range, on account of the tremendous initial velocity.

“Now,” said Smith, “the initial velocity being a question of the amount of powder in the charge, everything depends upon the resisting power of the metal; and steel is undeniably the best metal in this respect; so that I have great hope of our battery.”

The four cannon were in perfect condition. Ever since they had been taken out of the water, Pencroff had made it his business to give them a polish. How many hours had been spent in rubbing them, oiling them, and cleaning the separate parts! By this time they shone as if they had been on board of a United States frigate.

That very day, in the presence of all the colony, including Jup and Top, the new guns were successively tried. They were charged with pyroxyline, which, as we have said, has an explosive force fourfold that of gunpowder; the projectile was cylindro-conical in shape. Pencroff, holding the fuse, stood ready to touch them off.

Upon a word from Smith, the shot was fired. The ball, directed seaward, passed over the islet and was lost in the offing, at a distance which could not be computed.

The second cannon was trained upon the rocks terminating Jetsam Point, and the projectile, striking a sharp boulder nearly three miles from Granite House, made it fly into shivers. Herbert had aimed and fired the shot, and was quite proud of his success. But Pencroff was prouder of it even than he. Such a feather in his boy’s cap!

The third projectile, aimed at the downs which formed the upper coast of Union Bay, struck the sand about four miles away, then ricocheted into the water. The fourth piece was charged heavily to test its extreme range, and every one got out of the way for fear it would burst; then the fuse was touched off by means of a long string. There was a deafening report, but the gun stood the charge, and the colonists, rushing to the windows, could see the projectile graze the rocks of Mandible Cape, nearly five miles from Granite House, and disappear in Shark Gulf.

“Well, Mr. Smith,” said Pencroff, who had cheered at every shot, “what do you say to our battery? I should like to see a pirate land now!”

“Better have them stay away, Pencroff,” answered the engineer.

“Speaking of that,” said the sailor, “what are we going to do with the six rascals who are prowling about the island? Shall we let them roam about unmolested? They are wild beasts, and I think we should treat them as such. What do you think about it, Ayrton?” added Pencroff, turning towards his companion.

Ayrton hesitated for a moment, while Smith regretted the abrupt question, and was sincerely touched when Ayrton answered humbly:—

“I was one of these wild beasts once, Mr. Pencroff, and I am not worthy to give counsel.”

And, with bent head, he walked slowly away. Pencroff understood him.

“Stupid ass that I am!” cried he. “Poor Ayrton! and yet he has as good a right to speak as any of us. I would rather have bitten off my tongue than have given him pain! But, to go back to the subject, I think these wretches have no claim to mercy, and that we should rid the island of them.”

“And before we hunt them down, Pencroff, shall we not wait for some fresh act of hostility?”

“Haven’t they done enough already?” said the sailor, who could not understand these refinements.

“They may repent,” said Smith.

“They repent!” cried the sailor, shrugging his shoulders.

“Think of Ayrton, Pencroff!” said Herbert, taking his hand. “He has become an honest man.”

Pencroff looked at his companions In stupefaction. He could not admit the possibility of making terms with the accomplices of Harvey, the murderers of the Speedy’s crew.

“Be it so!” he said. “You want to be magnanimous to these rascals. May we never repent of it!”

“What danger do we