The Mysterious Island Jules Verne (red white royal blue txt) 📖

the geologic epochs. How appalling would this hideous mass have been to the colonists if they had chanced to have been thrown on this part of the island! When they were on Mount Franklin, their position had been too elevated for them to recognize the awfully forbidding aspect of this shore; but, viewed from the sea, it presented an appearance, the like of which cannot be seen, perhaps, in any portion of the globe.

The sloop passed for half a mile before this coast. It was composed of blocks of all dimensions from twenty to thirty feet high, and of all sorts of shapes, towers, steeples, pyramids, obelisks, and cones. The icebergs of the polar seas could not have been thrown together in more frightful confusion! Here, the rocks formed bridges, there, nave-like arches, of indistinguishable depth; in one place, were excavations resembling monumental vaults, in another a crowd of points outnumbering the pinnacles of a Gothic cathedral. All the caprices of nature, more varied than those of the imagination, were here displayed over a distance of eight or nine miles.

Smith and companions gazed with a surprise approaching stupefaction. But, though they rested mute, Top kept up an incessant barking, which awoke a thousand echoes. The engineer noticed the same strangeness in the dog’s action as he showed at the mouth of the well in Granite House.

“Go alongside,” said Smith.

And the Good Luck ran in as close to the rocks as possible. Perhaps there was some cavern here which it would be well to explore. But Smith saw nothing, not even a hollow which could serve as a retreat for any living thing, and the base of the rocks was washed by the surf of the sea. After a time the dog stopped barking, and the sloop kept off again at some cable lengths from the shore.

In the northwest portion of the island the shore became flat and sandy. A few trees rose above the low and swampy ground, the home of myriads of aquatic birds.

In the evening the sloop moored in a slight hollow of the shore, to the north of the island. She was close into the bank, as the water here was of great depth. The breeze died away with nightfall, and the night passed without incident.

The next morning Spilett and Herbert went ashore for a couple of hours and brought back many bunches of ducks and snipe, and by eight o’clock the Good Luck, with a fair, freshening breeze, was speeding on her way to North Mandible Cape.

“I should not be surprised,” said Pencroff, “if we had a squall. Yesterday the sun set red, and, this morning, the cats-tails foreboded no good.”

These “cats-tails” were slender cyrrhi, scattered high above, in the zenith. These feathery messengers usually announce the near disturbance of the elements.

“Very well, then,” said Smith, “crowd on all sail and make for Shark Gulf. There, I think the sloop will be safe.”

“Perfectly,” replied the sailor, “and, moreover, the north coast is nothing but uninteresting downs.”

“I shall not regret,” added the engineer, “passing, not only the night, but also tomorrow in that bay, which deserves to be explored with care.”

“I guess we’ll have to, whether we want to or no,” replied Pencroff, “as it is beginning to be threatening in the west. See how dirty it looks!”

“Anyhow, we have a good wind to make Mandible Cape,” observed the reporter.

“First rate; but, we will have to tack to get into the gulf, and I would rather have clear weather in those parts which I know nothing about.”

“Parts which are sown with reefs,” added Herbert, “if I may judge from what we have seen of the coast to the south of the gulf.”

“Pencroff,” said Smith, “do whatever you think best, we leave everything to you.”

“Rest assured, sir,” responded the sailor, “I will not run any unnecessary risk. I would rather have a knife in my vitals, than that my Good Luck should run on a rock!”

“What time is it?” asked Pencroff.

“Ten o’clock.”

“And how far is it to the cape?”

“About fifteen miles.”

“That will take two hours and a half. Unfortunately, the tide then will be going down, and it will be a hard matter to enter the gulf with wind and tide against us.”

“Moreover,” said Herbert, “it is full moon today, and these April tides are very strong.”

“But, Pencroff,” asked Smith, “cannot you anchor at the cape?”

“Anchor close to land, with bad weather coming on!” cried the sailor. “That would be to run ourselves ashore.”

“Then what will you do?”

“Keep off, if possible, until the tide turns, which will be about one o’clock, and if there is any daylight left try to enter the gulf; if not, we will beat on and off until daylight.”

“I have said, Pencroff, that we will leave everything to your judgment.”

“Ah,” said Pencroff, “if only there was a lighthouse on this coast it would be easier for sailors.”

“Yes,” answered Herbert, “and this time we have no thoughtful engineer to light a fire to guide us into harbor.”

“By the way, Cyrus,” said Spilett, “we have never thanked you for that; but indeed, without that fire we would not have reached⁠—”

“A fire?” demanded Smith, astounded by the words of the reporter.

“We wish to say, sir,” said Pencroff, “that we would have been in a bad fix on board the Good Luck, when we were nearly back, and that we would have passed to windward of the island unless you had taken the precaution to light a fire, on the night of the 19th of October, upon the plateau above Granite House.”

“Oh, yes, yes! It was a happy thought!” replied Smith.

“And now,” added Pencroff, “unless Ayrton thinks of it, there is not a soul to do us this little service.”

“No⁠—no one!” replied Smith.

And a moment or two later, being alone with Spilett, the engineer whispered to him:⁠—

“If there is anything sure in this world, Spilett, it is that I never lit a fire on that night, either on the plateau or anywhere else!”