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

Night at sea⁠—Shark gulf⁠—Confidences⁠—Preparations for winter⁠—Early advent of bad weather⁠—Cold⁠—Indoor work⁠—Six months later⁠—A speck on the photograph⁠—An unexpected event.

The sailor’s predictions were well founded. The breeze changed to a strong blow such as would have caused a ship in the open sea to have lowered her topmasts and sailed under close reefs. The sloop was opposite the gulf at six o’clock, but the tide was running out, so all that Pencroff could do was to bend the jib down to the mainmast as a staysail and lie to with the bows of the Good Luck pointing on shore.

Fortunately, although the wind was strong, the ocean, protected by the coast, was not very rough, and there was no danger from heavy seas, which would have tried the staunchness of the little craft. Pencroff, although he had every confidence in his boat, waited anxiously for daylight.

During the night Smith and Spilett had not another opportunity to talk alone, although the whispered words of the engineer made the reporter anxious to discuss with him again the mysterious influence which seemed to pervade Lincoln Island. Spilett could not rid himself of the thought of this new and inexplicable incident. He and his companions also had certainly seen this light, and yet Smith declared that he knew nothing about it.

He determined to return to this subject as soon as they returned home, and to urge Smith to inform their companions of these strange events. Perhaps, then, they would decide to make, altogether, a thorough search into every part of the island.

Whatever it was, no light appeared upon these unknown shores during this night, and at daylight the wind, which had moderated somewhat, shifted a couple of points, and permitted Pencroff to enter the gulf without difficulty. About seven o’clock the Good Luck passed into these waters enclosed in a grotesque frame of lava.

“Here,” said Pencroff, “is a fine roadstead, where fleets could ride at ease.”

“It is curious,” remarked Smith, “that this gulf has been formed by two successive streams of lava, completely enclosing its waters; and it is probable that, in the worst weather, the sea here is perfectly calm.”

“It is a little too large for the Good Luck,” remarked the reporter.

“I admit that,” replied the sailor, “but if the navy of the United States needed a shelter in the Pacific, I don’t think they could find a better roadstead than this!”

“We are in the shark’s jaws,” said Neb, alluding to the form of the gulf.

“We are, indeed,” replied Herbert; “but, Neb, you are not afraid that they will close on us?”

“No, sir, not that; and yet I don’t like the looks of the place. It has a wicked aspect.”

“So Neb begins running down my roadstead just as I was thinking to offer it to the United States!” cried Pencroff.

“But are its waters deep enough?” asked the engineer.

“That is easily seen,” answered the sailor, taking the sounding line, which measured fifty fathoms, and letting it down. It unrolled to the end without touching bottom.

“There,” said Pencroff, “our ironclads could come here without running aground!”

“In truth,” said Smith, “this gulf is an abyss; but when we remember the plutonic origin of the island, that is not extraordinary.”

“One might think,” said Herbert, “that these walls had been cut with an instrument, and I believe that at their very base, even with a line six times as long, we could not reach the bottom.”

“All this is very well,” said the reporter, “but I would suggest that Pencroff’s roadstead lacks one important element.”

“What is that?”

“A cut, or pathway of some kind, by which one could go inland. I do not see a place where there is even a foothold.”

And, indeed, these steep lava walls afforded no landing place on all their circumference. The Good Luck, skirting within touching distance of the lava, found no place where the passengers could disembark.

Pencroff consoled himself by saying that they could blow up the wall, if they wanted to, and then, as there was certainly nothing to be done here, he turned towards the narrow opening, which was passed at two o’clock.

Neb gave a long sigh of relief. It was evident that the brave negro had not been comfortable in those enormous jaws!

The sloop was now headed for Granite House, eight miles distant, and, with a fair wind, coasted along within a mile of the shore. The enormous lava rocks were soon succeeded by the oddly-disposed downs, among which the engineer had been so singularly discovered, and the place was covered with seabirds.

Towards four o’clock, Pencroff, leaving the islet to the left, entered the channel separating it from the island, and an hour later cast anchor in the Mercy.

The colonists had been absent three days. Ayrton was waiting for them on the shore, and Jup came joyously to welcome them, grinning with satisfaction.

The entire exploration of the coast had been made, and nothing suspicious had been seen. So that if any mysterious being resided on the island, it must be under cover of the impenetrable woods on Serpentine Peninsula, which the colonists had not, as yet, investigated.

Spilett talked the matter over with the engineer, and it was agreed that they should call their comrades’ attention to these strange events, the last one of which was the most inexplicable of all.

“Are you sure you saw it, Spilett?” asked Smith, for the twentieth time. “Was it not a partial eruption of the volcano, or some meteor?”

“No, Cyrus, it was certainly a fire lit by the hand of man. For that matter, question Pencroff and Herbert. They saw it also, and they will confirm my words.”

So, some evenings later, on the 26th of April, when all the colonists were gathered together on Prospect Plateau, Smith began:⁠—

“My friends, I want to call your attention to certain things which are happening in our island, and to a subject on which I am anxious to have your advice. These things are almost supernatural⁠—”

“Supernatural!” exclaimed the sailor, puffing his pipe. “Can anything be