by Jules Verne
‘I’ll go,’ said Briant.
The bay ended in a huge pile of rocks, like a hill rising into a peak on the side nearest the sea. Along the curve of the beach it was seven or eight miles away, but in a bee line, as the Americans say, it was probably not more than five, and Gordon had not over-estimated the height of the hill at 300 feet from the sea-level.
Was this sufficiently high for a good view over the country? Would not the landscape be shut in by high ground to the eastward? But at least it would be seen if the coast-line continued towards the north or not.
And so it was decided that the exploration should be made, and that the wreck should not be abandoned until it had been discovered whether the boys had been cast on an island or a continent, which could only be the American continent. But no start could be made for the next five days, owing to the weather having become misty and rainy; and until the wind freshened to blow the fog away, the view would not be worth the ascent.
The days were not lost. They were spent in work. Briant made it his duty to look after the younger boys, as if to watch over them with paternal affection was a want of his nature. Thanks to his constant care, they were as well looked after as circumstances permitted. The weather was getting colder, and he made them put on warmer clothes from the stores found in the seamen’s chests, and this gave a good deal of tailoring work, in which the scissors were more in request than the needle, and Moko greatly distinguished himself. Costar, Dole, Jenkins, and Iverson were elegantly attired in trousers and jerseys much too roomy for them, but reduced to a proper length of arm and leg. The others were not idle. Under Garnett or Baxter, they were off among the rocks at low tide, gathering mollusks, or fishing with lines and nets at the mouth of the stream, amusing themselves to the advantage of all. Busy in a way that pleased them, they hardly thought of the position in which they were placed, and they did not know how serious it was. When they thought of their parents and friends, as they often did, they were sorrowful enough; but the idea that they would never see them again never occurred to them.
Gordon and Briant seldom left the wreck. Service was with them a good deal, and was always good-tempered and useful He liked Briant, and had never joined Donagan’s party, and Briant was not insensible to his loyalty.
‘This is first rate,’ said Service. ‘The schooner must have been dropped gently on the beach by some good fairy! There was no such luck as this with Robinson Crusoe nor the Swiss family.’
Young Jack grew stranger in his manner every day. Although he helped his brother in many ways, yet he rarely replied to a question, and turned away his eyes whenever he was looked at in the face. Briant was seriously uneasy at all this. Being his senior by some four years, he had always had a good deal of influence over him, and ever since they had come on board the schooner he had noticed that Jack seemed like a boy afflicted with remorse. Had he done anything that he dared not tell his brother? Several times Briant noticed that his eyes were red from crying. Was Jack going to be seriously ill? If so, how could they look after him? Here was trouble in store! And so Briant asked his brother quietly what ailed him.
‘There’s nothing the matter with me.’ answered Jack. And that was all he could get from him.
During the 11th and 15th of March, Donagan, Wilcox, Webb, and Cross went shooting rock pigeons. They always kept together, and it was obvious that they wished to form a clique apart from the rest. Gordon felt anxious about this; he saw that trouble must come of it, and when an opportunity offered he spoke about it and tried to make the discontented ones understand how necessary union was for the good of the community. But Donagan replied to his advances so coldly that he thought it unreasonable to insist; though he did not despair of destroying the germs of dissension which might have deplorable results, for events might tend to bring about an understanding where advice failed.
While the excursion to the north of the bay was stopped by the misty weather, Donagan and his friends had plenty of sport. He was really an excellent shot and he was very proud of his skill, and despised such contrivances as traps, nets, and snares, in which Wilcox delighted. Webb was a good hand with the gun, but did not pretend to equal Donagan. Cross had very little of the sacred fire, and contented himself with praising his cousin’s prowess. Fan, the dog, distinguished herself highly, and made no hesitation in jumping into the waves in retrieving the somewhat miscellaneous victims of the guns. Moko refused to have anything to do with the cormorants, gulls, seamews, and grebes, but there were quite enough rock pigeons as well as geese and ducks to serve his purpose. The geese were of the bernicle kind, and from the direction they took when the report of the gun scared them away, it was supposed that they lived in the interior of the country.
Donagan shot a few of those oyster-catchers which live on limpets, cockles, and mussels. In fact there was plenty of choice, although Moko found it no easy matter to get rid of the oily taste, and did not always succeed to the general satisfaction. But, as Gordon said, the boys need not be too particular, for the most must be made of the provisions on board.
On the 15th of March the weather appeared favourable for the excursion to the cape, which was to solve the problem as to island or continent. During the night the sky cleared up the mist which the calm of the preceding days had accumulated. A land-breeze swept it away in a few hours. The sun’s bright rays gilded the crest of the cliff. It looked as if in the afternoon the eastern horizon would be clearly visible; and that was the horizon on which their hopes depended. If the line of water continued along it, the land must be an island, and the only hope of rescue was from a ship.
The idea of this visit to the end of the bay, first occurred, it will be remembered, to Briant, and he had resolved to go off alone. He would gladly have been accompanied by Gordon, but he did not feel justified in leaving his companions without any one to look after them.
On the evening of the 15th, finding the barometer remained steady, he told Gordon he would be off at dawn next morning. Ten or eleven miles, there and back, was nothing to a healthy lad who did not mind fatigue. The day would be enough for the journey, and he would be sure to get back before night.
Briant was off at daybreak without the others knowing he had gone. His weapons were only a stick and a revolver, so as to be prepared for any wild beast that came along, although Donagan had not come across any in his shooting expeditions. With these he also took one of the schooner’s telescopes—a splendid instrument of great range and clearness of vision. In a bag hung to his belt he took a little biscuit and salt meat, and a flask of brandy, so as to be prepared in case any adventure delayed his return.
Walking at a good pace, he followed the trend of the coast along the inner line of reefs, his road marked by a border of seaweed still wet with the retiring tide. In an hour he had passed the extreme point reached by Donagan in his foray after the rock pigeons. The birds had nothing to fear from him now. His object was to push on and reach the foot of the cape as soon as possible. The sky was clear of cloud, and if the mist came back in the afternoon, his journey might be useless.
During the first hour he kept on as fast as he could walk, and got over half his journey. If no obstacle hindered him, he expected to reach the promontory by eight o’clock. But as the cliff ran nearer to the reefs, the beach became more difficult to traverse. The strip of land grew so narrow that instead of the firm elastic path near the stream, he had to take to the slippery rocks, and make his way over viscous seaweed, and round deep pools and over loose pebbles, on which there was no safe footing. It was tiring walking, and took two full hours more than he expected.
‘I must get to the cape before high water,’ said he to himself. ‘The beach is covered by the tide, and the sea runs up to the foot of the cliff. If I am obliged to go back at all or to take refuge on some rock, I shall get there too late. I must get on at all cost before the tide runs up.’
And the brave boy, trying to forget the fatigue which began to creep over his limbs, struck out across what seemed the shortest way. Many time
s he had to take off his boots and stockings, and wade the pools, and now and then, with all his strength and activity, he could not avoid a fall.
It was here, as we have said, that the aquatic birds were in greatest number. There were literally swarms of pigeons, oyster-catchers, and wild ducks. A few couples of seals were swimming among the breakers, but they showed no fear, and never attempted to dive. As they were not afraid, it looked as though many years had elapsed since men had come in chase of them. Thinking further of the seals, Briant concluded that the coast must be in a higher latitude than he had imagined, and that it must be some distance south of New Zealand. The yacht must have drifted to the south-west on her way across the Pacific. And this conjecture was confirmed when Briant reached the foot of the promontory, and found a flock of penguins. These birds only haunt the antarctic ocean. They were strutting about in dozens, flapping their tiny wings, which they use for swimming instead of flying.
It was then ten o’clock. Exhausted and hungry, Briant thought it best to have something to eat before attempting the ascent of the promontory, which raised its crest some 300 feet above the sea. And he sat down on a rock out of reach of the rising tide, which had begun to gain on the outer ridge of reefs. An hour later he would not have been able to pass along the foot of the cliff without running the danger of imprisonment by the flood. But there was nothing to be anxious about now, and in the afternoon the ebb would leave the passage dry.
While the food satisfied his hunger, the halt gave rest to his limbs, and he began to give the rein to his thoughts on matters in general. Alone, and far from his companions, he coolly reviewed the situation, resolving to do his best for the good of all. Then he thought of his brother Jack, whose health caused him much anxiety. It seemed to him that Jack must have done something serious—probably before his departure—and he decided to question him so closely that he would have to confess. For one hour Briant sat and thought, and rested himself. Then he shut up his bag, threw it over his shoulder, and began to climb the rocks.
The cape ended in a narrow ridge, and its geology was remarkable. It was a mass of metamorphic rock, quite detached from the cliff, and differing from it completely in structure; the cliff being composed of calcareous stratifications similar to those of La Manche in the west of Europe.
Briant noticed that a narrow gorge cut the promontory off from the cliff, and that the beach extended northwards out of sight. But the promontory, being at least 100 feet higher than the neighbouring heights, would afford an extensive view.
The ascent was not easy. He had to climb from one rock to another, the rocks being often so large that he could barely reach up them. But as he belonged to that order of boys we classify as climbers, and brought all his gifts into play, he eventually reached the top.
With his glass at his eye he first looked to the east The country was flat as far as he could see. The cliff was the greatest elevation, and the ground gently sloped towards the interior. In the distance were a few hillocks hardly worth mentioning. There was much forest land, and under the yellow foliage rose many streams that ran towards the coast The surface was level up to the horizon, which might be a dozen miles away. It did not look as though the sea was there.
To the north Briant could make out the beach running straight away for seven or eight miles; beyond another cape, and a stretch of sand that looked like a huge desert. To the south was a wide marsh. Briant had surveyed the whole sweep of the westerly horizon.
Was he on an island or a continent? He could not say. If it was an island, it was a large one. That was all he could discover.
Then he looked to the westward. The sea was shining under the oblique rays of the sun, which was slowly sinking in the heavens.
Suddenly he brought his glass to his eye, and looked away into the offing.
‘Ships!’ he exclaimed, ‘Ships going past!
Three black spots appeared on the circle of gleaming waters about fifteen miles away.
Great was his excitement Was he the sport of an illusion? Were they vessels he saw?
He lowered the glass, and cleaned the eyepiece, which had clouded with his breath. He looked again.
The three points looked like ships with nothing visible but their hulls. There was no sign of their masts, and no smoke to show that they were under way.
And then the thought occurred to him, that they were too far off! for his signals to be seen; and as it was likely that his companions had not seen these ships, the best thing he could do was to get back to the wreck and light a big fire on the beach. And then—when the sun went down—.
As he thought he kept his eye on the three black spots. One thing was certain; they did not move.
Again he looked through the glass, and for some minutes he kept them in the field of his objective. And then he saw that they were three small islands that the schooner must have passed close by when they were hidden in the mist.
It was two o’clock. The tide began to retire, leaving the line of reefs bare at the foot of the cliff. Briant thinking it was time to return to the wreck, prepared to descend the hill.
But once again he looked to the eastward. In the more oblique position of the sun he might see something that had hitherto escaped him. And he did not regret doing so; for beyond the border of forest he could now see a bluish line, which stretched from north to south for many miles, with its two ends lost behind the confused mass of trees.
‘What is that?’ he asked himself.
And again he looked.
‘The sea! Yes! The sea!’
And the glass almost dropped from his hands.
It was the sea to the eastward, there could be no doubt! It was not a continent on which he had been cast, but an island. An island in the immensity of the Pacific, which it would be impossible to leave!
And then all the perils that begirt him presented themselves to his mind as in a vision. His heart almost ceased to beat. But struggling against the involuntary weakness, he resolved to do his best to the last, however threatening the future might be.
A quarter of an hour afterwards he had regained the beach, and by the same way as he had come in the morning he returned to the wreck. He reached it about five o’clock, and found his comrades impatiently awaiting his return.
CHAPTER VI—A SPELL OF RAIN.
IN the evening after supper Briant told the bigger boys the result of his exploration. Briefly it was as follows: to the east, beyond the forest zone, he had distinctly seen a line of water extending from north to south. That this was the horizon of the sea appeared indubitable. Hence it was on an island and not on a continent that the yacht had been wrecked.
Gordon and the others received the information with considerable excitement. What! They were on an island and deprived of every means of leaving it! Their scheme of finding a road to the eastward would have to be abandoned! They would have to wait till a ship came in sight! Could it be true that this was their only chance of rescue?
‘But was not Briant mistaken?’ asked Donagan.
‘Did you not mistake a bank of clouds for the sea?’ asked Cross.
‘No,’ answered Briant ‘I am certain I made no mistake. What I saw was a line of water, and it formed the horizon.’
‘How far off was it?’ asked Wilcox.
‘About six miles from the cape.’
‘And beyond that,’ asked Webb, ‘were there no mountains, no elevated ground?’
‘No! Nothing but the sky.’
Briant was so positive that it was not reasonable to retain the least doubt in the matter.
But Donagan, as was always the case when he argued with Briant, continued obstinate.
‘And I repeat that Briant has made a mistake. And until we have seen it with our own eyes—’
‘Which we shall do,’ said Gordon, ‘for we must know the truth about it.’
‘And I say we have not a day to lose,’ said Baxter, ‘if we are to leave this place before the bad weather, supposing we are on a continent.’
‘Agreed, Gordon,’ answered Briant ‘And when we reach the other side of the island—’
‘If it is an island?’ interrupted Donagan.
‘But it is one!’ replied Briant impatiently. ‘I have made no mistake. I distinctly saw the sea in the east it pleases Donagan to contradict me as usual—’
‘And you are not infallible, Briant!’
‘No, I am not! But this time I am! I will go myself to this sea, and if Donagan likes to come with me—’
‘Certainly I will go.’
‘And so will we,’ said three or four of the bigger boys.
‘Good!’ said Gordon. ‘But don’t get excited, my dear young friends. If we are only boys, we may as well act like men. Our position is serious, and any imprudence may make it worse. We must not all go into this forest. The youngsters cannot come with us, and we cannot leave them all on the wreck. Donagan and Briant may go, and two others may go with them—’
‘I’ll go! ‘said Wilcox.
‘So will I!’ said Service.
‘Very well,’ said Gordon. ‘ Four is quite enough. If you are too long coming back we can send a few others to your assistance, while the rest remain with the schooner. Don’t forget that this is our camp, our house, our home, and we can only leave it when we are sure that we are on a continent.’
‘We are on an island,’ said Briant ‘For the last time I say so!’
‘That we shall see!’ replied Donagan.
Gordon’s sensible advice had had its effect in calming the discord. Obviously— and Briant saw it clearly enough— it was advisable to push through the central forest and reach the line of water. If it was a sea to the eastward, there might be other islands separated from them by a channel they might cross; and if they were on an island of an archipelago, surely it was better to know it before taking any steps on which their safety might depend. It was certain that there was no land to the west right away to New Zealand. The only chance of reaching an inhabited country was by journeying towards the sun-rising.
