The Mysterious Island by Jules Verne (ebook and pdf reader txt) 📖

in a minute, which is fast enough.”

“Already!” exclaimed Herbert, “there is a fine breeze from the northeast, which will be just the thing!”

There was no reason to delay using the mill, and the colonists were anxious to taste the bread of Lincoln Island; so this very morning two or three bushels of corn were ground, and the next day, at breakfast, a splendid loaf, rather heavy perhaps, which had been raised with the barm of beer, was displayed upon the table of Granite House. Each munched his portion with a pleasure perfectly inexpressible.

Meantime the Unknown had not come back again. Often Spilett and Herbert had searched the forest in the neighborhood of Granite House without finding any trace of him, and all began to be seriously alarmed at his prolonged absence. Undoubtedly the former savage of Tabor Island would not find it difficult to live in the forests of the Far West, which were so rich in game; but was it not to be feared that he would resume his former habits, and that his independence would revive in him his brutish instincts? Smith alone, by a sort of presentiment, persisted in saying that the fugitive would return.

“Yes, he will come back,” he repeated with a confidence in which his companions could not share. “When this poor creature was on Tabor Island, he knew he was alone, but here, he knows that his kindred await him. Since he half-spoke of his past life, he will return to tell us everything, and on that day he will be ours.”

The event proved the correctness of Cyrus Smith’s reasoning.

On the 3d of December, Herbert had gone to the southern shore of the lake, to fish, and, since the dangerous animals never showed themselves in this part of the island, he had gone unarmed.

Pencroff and Neb were working in the poultry-yard, while Smith and the reporter were occupied at the Chimneys making soda, the supply of soap being low.

Suddenly sharp cries of help were heard by Neb and Pencroff, who summoned the others, and all rushed towards the lake.

But before them, the Unknown, whose presence in the neighborhood had not been suspected, leapt over Glycerine Creek and bounded along the opposite bank.

There, Herbert stood facing a powerful jaguar, like the one which had been killed at Reptile End. Taken by surprise, he stood with his back against a tree, and the animal, crouching on his haunches, was about to spring upon him, when the Unknown, with no other arm than his knife, threw himself on the brute, which turned upon its new adversary.

The struggle was short. This man, whose strength and agility was prodigious, seized the jaguar by the throat in a vice-like grip, and, not heeding the claws of the beast tearing his flesh, he thrust his knife into its heart.

The jaguar fell, and the Unknown was about turning to go away, when the colonists came up, and Herbert, catching hold of him, exclaimed:—

“No, no, you must not leave us!”

Smith walked towards the man, who frowned at his approach. The blood was flowing from a wound in his shoulder, but he did not heed it.

“My friend,” said Smith, “we are in your debt. You have risked your life to save our boy.”

“My life,” murmured the Unknown; “what is it worth? less than nothing.”

“You are wounded?”

“That does not matter.”

“Will you not shake hands with me?” asked Herbert.

But on the lad’s seeking to take his hand, the Unknown folded his arms, his chest heaved, and he looked about as if he wished to escape; but, making a violent effort at self-control, and in a gruff voice:—

“Who are you?” he asked, “and what are you going to do with me?”

It was their history that he thus asked for, for the first time. Perhaps, if that was related, he would tell his own. So Smith, in a few words, recounted all that had happened since their departure from Richmond; how they had succeeded, and the resources now at their disposal.

The Unknown listened with the utmost attention.

Then Smith told him who they all were, Spilett, Herbert, Pencroff, Neb, himself, and he added that the greatest happiness that had come to them since their arrival on Lincoln Island was on their return from the islet, when they could count one more companion.

At these words the other colored up, and bowing his head, seemed greatly agitated.

“And now that you know us,” asked Smith, “will you give us your hand?”

“No,” answered the Unknown in a hoarse voice; “no! You are honest men. But I—”

CHAPTER XXXIX

ALWAYS APART—A BEQUEST OF THE UNKNOWN’S—THE FARM ESTABLISHED AT THE CORRAL—TWELVE YEARS—THE BOATSWAIN’S MATE OF THE BRITANNIA —LEFT ON TABOR ISLAND—THE HAND OF SMITH—THE MYSTERIOUS PAPER

These last events justified the presentiments of the colonists. There was some terrible past in the life of this man, expiated, perhaps, in the eyes of men, but which his conscience still held unabsolved. At any rate, he felt remorse; he had repented, and his new friends would have cordially grasped that hand, but he did not feel himself worthy to offer it to honest men. Nevertheless, after the struggle with the jaguar, he did not go back to the forest, but remained within the bounds of Granite House.

What was the mystery of this life? Would he speak of it some day? The colonists thought so, but they agreed that, under no circumstances, would they ask him for his secret; and, in the meantime, to associate with him as if they suspected nothing.

For some days everything went on as usual. Smith and Spilett worked together, sometimes as chemists, sometimes as physicists, the reporter never leaving the engineer, except to hunt with Herbert, as it was not prudent to allow the young lad to traverse the forest alone. As to Neb and Pencroff, the work in the stables and poultry-yard, or at the corral, besides the chores about Granite House, kept them busy.

The Unknown worked apart from the others. He had gone back to his former habit of taking no share in the meals, of sleeping under the trees, of having nothing to do with his companions. It seemed, indeed, as if the society of those who had saved him was intolerable.

“But why, then,” asked Pencroff, “did he seek succor from his fellow-creatures; why did he throw this paper in the sea?”

“He will tell us everything,” was Smith’s invariable answer.

“But when?”

“Perhaps sooner than you think, Pencroff.”

And, indeed, on the 10th of December, a week after his return to Granite House, the Unknown accosted the engineer and in a quiet humble voice said:—

“Sir, I have a request to make.”

“Speak,” replied the engineer, “but, first, let me ask you a question?”

At these words the Unknown colored and drew back. Smith saw what was passing in the mind of the culprit, who feared, doubtless, that the engineer would question him upon his past.

Smith took him by the hand.

“Comrade,” said he, “we are not only companions, we are friends. I wanted to say this to you first, now I will listen.”

The Unknown covered his eyes with his hand; a sort of tremor seized him, and for some moments he was unable to articulate a word.

“Sir,” said he, at length, “I came to implore a favor from you.”

“What is it?”

“You have, four or five miles from here, at the foot of the mountain, a corral for your animals. These require looking after. Will you permit me to live over there with them?”

Smith regarded the unhappy man for some time, with deep commiseration. Then:—

“My friend,” said he, “the corral has nothing but sheds, only fit for the animals—”

“It will be good enough, for me, sir.”

“My friend,” replied Smith, “we will never thwart you in anything. If you wish to live in the corral, you may; nevertheless, you will always be welcome at Granite House. But since you desire to stay at the corral, we will do what is necessary to make you comfortable.”

“Never mind about that, I will get along well enough.”

“My friend,” responded Smith, who persisted in the use of this cordial title, “you must let us be the judges in that matter.”

The Unknown thanked the engineer and went away. And Smith, having told his companions of the proposition that had been made, they decided to build a log house at the corral, and to make it as comfortable as possible.

The same day the colonists went, with the necessary tools, to the place, and before the week was out the house was ready for its guest. It was built twenty feet from the sheds, at a place where the herd of moufflons, now numbering twenty-four animals, could be easily overlooked. Some furniture, including a bed, table, bench, clothes-press, and chest was made, and some arms, ammunition, and tools, were carried there.

The Unknown, meanwhile, had not seen his new home, letting the colonists work without him, while he remained at the plateau, wishing, doubtless, to finish up his work there. And, indeed, by his exertion the ground was completely tilled, and ready for the sowing when the time should arrive.

On the 20th everything was prepared at the corral, aid the engineer told the Unknown that his house was ready for him, to which the other replied that he would sleep there that night.

The same evening, the colonists were all together in the great hall of Granite House. It was 8 o’clock, the time of their companion’s departure; and not wishing by their presence to impose on him the leave-taking, which would, perhaps, have cost him an effort, they had left him alone and gone up into Granite House.

They had been conversing together in the hall for some minutes, when there was a light knock on the door, the Unknown entered, and without further introduction:—

“Before I leave you, sirs,” said he, “it is well that you should know my history. This is it.”

These simple words greatly affected Smith and companions. The engineer started up.

“We ask to hear nothing, my friend,” he said. “It is your right to be silent—”

“It is my duty to speak.”

“Then sit down.”

“I will stand where I am.”

“We are ready to hear what you have to say,” said Smith.

The Unknown stood in a shadowed corner of the hall, bare-headed, his arms crossed on his breast. In this position, in a hoarse voice, speaking as one who forces himself to speak, he made the following recital, uninterrupted by any word from his auditors:—

“On the 20th of December, 1854, a steam pleasure-yacht, the Duncan, belonging to a Scotch nobleman, Lord Glenarvan, cast anchor at Cape Bernoulli, on the western coast of Australia, near the thirty-seventh parallel. On board the yacht were Lord Glenarvan, his wife, a major in the English army, a French geographer, a little boy, and a little girl. These two last were the children of Captain Grant, of the ship Britannia, which, with its cargo, had been lost the year before. The Duncan was commanded by Captain John Mangles, and was manned by a crew of fifteen men.

“This is the reason why the yacht was on the Australian coast at that season:—

“Six months before, a bottle containing a paper written in English, German, and French, had been picked up by the Duncan in the Irish Sea. This paper said, in substance, that three persons still survived from the wreck of the Britannia; that they were the captain and two of the men; that they had found refuge on a land of which the latitude and longitude was given, but the longitude, blotted by the sea water, was no longer legible.

“The latitude was 37° 11’ south. Now, as the longitude was unknown, if they followed the latitude across continents and seas, they were certain to arrive at the land inhabited by Captain Grant and his companions.

“The English Admiralty, having hesitated to undertake the search, Lord Glenarvan had resolved to do everything in his power to recover the captain. Mary and Robert Grant had been in correspondence with him, and the yacht Duncan was made ready for a long voyage, in which the family of Lord Glenarvan and the children of the captain intended to participate. The Duncan, leaving Glasgow, crossed the Atlantic, passed the Straits of Magellan, and proceeded up the Pacific to Patagonia, where, according to the first theory suggested by the paper, they might believe that Captain Grant was a prisoner to the natives.

“The Duncan left its passengers on the western coast of Patagonia, and sailed for Cape Corrientes on the eastern coast, there to wait for them.

“Lord Glenarvan crossed Patagonia, following the 37th parallel, and, not having found any trace of the captain, he reembarked on the 13th of November, in order to continue his search across the ocean.

“After having visited without success the islands of Tristan d’Acunha and of Amsterdam, lying in the course, the Duncan,