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

him quite at liberty. He made some steps forward towards the sea, and his face lit up with pleasure, but he made no effort to escape. He looked curiously at the little waves, which, broken by the islet, died away on the shore.

“It is not, indeed, the ocean,” remarked Spilett, “and it is possible that this does not give him the idea of escaping.”

“Yes,” replied Smith, “we must take him to the plateau on the edge of the forest. There the experiment will be more conclusive.”

“There he cannot get away, since the bridges are all raised,” said Neb.

“Oh, he is not the man to be troubled by such a brook as Glycerine Creek; he could leap it at a bound,” returned Pencroff.

“We will see presently,” said Smith, who kept his eye fixed on his patient.

And thereupon all proceeded towards Prospect Plateau. Having reached the place they encountered the outskirts of the forest, with its leaves trembling in the wind. The Unknown seemed to drink in with eagerness the perfume in the air, and a long sigh escaped from his breast.

The colonists stood some paces back, ready to seize him if he attempted to escape.

The poor creature was upon the point of plunging in the creek that separated him from the forest; he placed himself ready to spring⁠—then all at once he turned about, dropping his arms beside him, and tears coursed down his cheeks.

“Ah!” cried Smith, “you will be a man again, since you weep!”

XXXVIII

A mystery to be solved⁠—The first words of the Unknown⁠—Twelve years on the island⁠—Confessions⁠—Disappearance⁠—Smith’s confidence⁠—Building a windmill⁠—The first bread⁠—An act of devotion⁠—Honest hands.

Yes, the poor creature had wept. Some remembrance had flashed across his spirit, and, as Smith had said, he would be made a man through his tears.

The colonists left him for some time, withdrawing themselves, so that he could feel perfectly at liberty; but he showed no inclination to avail himself of this freedom, and Smith soon decided to take him back to Granite House.

Two days after this occurrence, the Unknown showed a disposition to enter little by little into the common life. It was evident that he heard, that he understood, but it was equally evident that he manifested a strange disinclination to speak to them. Pencroff, listening at his room, heard these words escape him:⁠—

“No! here! I! never!”

The sailor reported this to his companions, and Smith said:⁠—

“There must be some sad mystery here.”

The Unknown had begun to do some little chores, and to work in the garden. When he rested, which was frequent, he seemed entirely self-absorbed; but, on the advice of the engineer, the others respected the silence, which he seemed desirous of keeping. If one of the colonists approached him he recoiled, sobbing as if overcome. Could it be by remorse? or, was it, as Spilett once suggested:⁠—

“If he does not speak I believe it is because he has something on his mind too terrible to mention.”

Some days later the Unknown was working on the plantation, when, of a sudden, he stopped and let his spade fall, and Smith, who was watching him from a distance, saw that he was weeping again. An irresistible pity drew the engineer to the poor fellow’s side; and, touching his arm lightly:⁠—

“My friend,” said he.

The Unknown tried to look away, and when Smith sought to take his hand he drew back quickly.

“My friend,” said Smith, with decision, “I wish you to look at me.”

The Unknown obeyed, raising his eyes and regarding the other as one does who is under the influence of magnetism. At first he wished to break away, then his whole expression changed; his eyes flashed, and, unable longer to contain himself, he muttered some incoherent words. Suddenly he crossed his arms, and in a hollow voice:⁠—

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“Men shipwrecked as you have been,” replied the engineer, greatly moved. “We have brought you here among your kindred.”

“My kindred! I have none!”

“You are among friends⁠—”

“Friends! I! Friends!” cried the Unknown, hiding his face in his hands. “Oh, no! never! Leave me! leave me!” and he rushed to the brink of the plateau overlooking the sea, and stood there, motionless, for a long time.

Smith had rejoined his companions and had related to them what had happened.

“There certainly is a mystery in this man’s life,” said Spilett, “and it seems as if his first human sensation was remorse.”

“I don’t understand what kind of a man we have brought back,” says the sailor. “He has secrets⁠—”

“Which we will respect,” answered the engineer, quickly. “If he has committed some fault he has cruelly expiated it, and in our sight it is absolved.”

For two hours the Unknown remained upon the shore, evidently under the influence of remembrances which brought back to him all his past, a past which, doubtless, was hateful enough, and the colonists, though keeping watch upon him, respected his desire to be alone.

Suddenly he seemed to have taken a resolution, and he returned to the engineer. His eyes were red with the traces of tears, and his face wore an expression of deep humility. He seemed apprehensive, ashamed, humiliated, and his looks were fixed on the ground.

“Sir,” said he, “are you and your companions English?”

“No,” replied Smith, “we are Americans.”

“Ah!” murmured the Unknown, “I am glad of that.”

“And what are you, my friend?” asked the engineer.

“English,” he responded, as if these few words had cost him a great effort. He rushed to the shore, and traversed its length to the mouth of the Mercy, in a state of extreme agitation.

Having, at one place, met Herbert, he stopped, and in a choking voice, accosted him:⁠—

“What month is it?”

“November,” replied the lad.

“And what year?”

“1866.”

“Twelve years! Twelve years!” he cried, and then turned quickly away.

Herbert related this incident to the others.

“The poor creature knew neither the month nor the year,” remarked Spilett.

“And he had been twelve years on the island, when we found him.”

“Twelve years,” said Smith. “Twelve years of isolation, after a wicked life, perhaps; that would indeed affect a