The Mysterious Island

by Jules Verne

  "And why should it not be a continent?" exclaimed Mr. Wolston, laughing.

  "You seem to think that I always exaggerate everything," Jack retorted.

  "You do, my boy," said M. Zermatt; "after all, that only means you are over-imaginative. But just think: if this island were as large as you suppose, and probably wish, it could hardly have escaped the observation of navigators."

  "Of the old and the new world too," Ernest added. "Its position in this part of the Indian Ocean is much too valuable, and if it had been known, you may be quite sure that England, for example—"

  "Don't stand upon ceremony, my dear Ernest," said Mr. Wolston good-humouredly. "We English are born colonisers, and claim a right to colonise everything we come across."

  "And so, to make an end of it," M. Zermatt resumed, "from the day our island had been discovered it would have figured in the Admiralty charts and no doubt would have been called New England instead of New Switzerland."

  "Anyhow," said Mr. Wolston, "it will not have lost anything by the waiting since you, its first occupant, have surrendered it to Great Britain."

  "And since the Unicorn is going to bring it the official certificate of adoption," added Jack.

  It had still to be ascertained whether the range rose in the centre of the island or at the extreme end of its southern coast.

  When this point had been established Ernest would be in a position to complete his map of New Switzerland. And this natural desire was justification for Mr. Wolston's suggestion that they should explore the country as far as the foot of the mountains, and even make the ascent of these. But this plan could only be carried into effect at the beginning of the next dry season.

  Ernest had taken and recorded with approximate accuracy the bearings of all the portions of the island that had been visited. The coast line on the north was about thirty miles in length; on the east it ran in an almost straight line from Cape East to the mouth of Deliverance Bay; next came that bay, hollowed out somewhat like a leather bottle, and joining the rocky coast between Falconhurst beach and the reefs of False Hope Point; beyond this, to the westward, Nautilus Bay was scooped out, terminated by Cape Snub-nose, and receiving the waters of the Eastern River; lastly, in broad, sweeping curves, the vast Pearl Bay was cut out of the littoral, between the archway and the opposite promontory, behind which, ten miles out at sea in the south-west, lay Burning Rock.

  Thus the Promised Land, contained between the sea on one side and Nautilus Bay on the other, and enclosed by a long wall of mountains extending from the mouth of Deliverance Bay to the innermost point of Nautilus Bay, was inaccessible except through the defile of Cluse on its southern boundary. This district of about ten square miles contained Jackal River, the stream at Falconhurst, Swan Lake, the dwelling places of Rock Castle and Falconhurst, and the farmsteads at Wood Grange, Sugar-cane Grove, and the hermitage at Eberfurt.

  The exploration was now carried out along the banks of the water-course, from which M. Zermatt did not care to move away. This was quite to Ernest's mind, and he said:

  "When we get back from this trip I shall be able to trace the course of part of this river and of the valley it irrigates. In view of the fertility of this new territory, it is unquestionable that our island could support several thousand colonists."

  "As many as that?" exclaimed Jack, not attempting to conceal his vexation at the idea that his "second fatherland" might be so densely populated some day.

  "Further," Ernest went on, "since it is always well for a town to be built near the mouth of a river, future inhabitants will most likely decide to settle here beside this creek."

  "Well, we won't dispute it with them," M. Zermatt remarked. "Not one of us could ever make up his mind to leave the Promised Land."

  "Especially as Mme. Zermatt would never consent to do so," Mr. Wolston observed. "She has formally proclaimed that."

  "Mamma is right," Jack exclaimed. "And ask all our good servants, furred and feathered; ask Storm, and Grumbler, and Swift, and Paleface, and Bull and Arrow, and Nip the Second, the Lightfoot, and Whirlwind, and Turk, and then ask Brownie and Fawn, who are here present, if they would ever consent to move into a new house! Give them a vote, and have a scrutiny, and as they are the majority I know what the popular decision will be!"

  "Be sensible, Jack," M. Zermatt answered. "There is no need for us to consult any of our dumb brutes."

  "Not such brutes as the name might lead you to suppose!" Jack retorted, running and shouting to excite the two young dogs to wilder frolic.

  About six o'clock M. Zermatt and his companions returned to the encampment, by way of the coast, which was bordered by long beaches with a background of resinous trees. Dinner was taken on the grass, and the diners enjoyed a dish of fried gudgeon taken from the fresh water of the river with the lines which Ernest had got ready for Hannah. This river appeared to be full of fish, and in the streamlets which flowed into it higher up there were swarms of crayfish, some dozens of which they promised to catch before leaving.

  After dinner no one evinced any desire to return on board the pinnace, and it was only the absence of a tent that rendered the wish to sleep on the shore impracticable. It was a magnificent evening. A light breeze laden with the fragrance of the country, sweet as the savour stealing from a bowl of rose-leaves, perfumed and refreshed the entire atmosphere. After a long day under a tropical sun it was pure joy to draw this life-giving, life-restoring air deep into the lungs.

  There was every guarantee of fine weather. A light haze shaded the horizon out at sea. The atmospheric dust held in the higher regions of the air just dimmed the scintillation of the stars. Beneath those stars the party walked and talked over their plans for the morrow. Then, about ten o'clock, all went on board the Elizabeth and each and all made ready to regain their berths except Ernest who was to take the first watch.

  Just as they were going below Mme. Zermatt made a remark:

  "There is one thing you have forgotten," said she.

  "Forgotten, Betsy?" said Mr. Zermatt enquiringly.

  "Yes: to give a name to this river."

  "Quite right," M. Zermatt admitted; "it is an oversight that would have vexed Ernest in his map-making."

  "Well," said Ernest, "there is a name already indicated for it. Let us call the river Hannah."

  "Excellent!" said Jack. "Would you like that, Hannah?"

  "Of course I should," the young girl replied, "but I have another name to suggest, and it deserves the compliment."

  "What is it?" Mme. Zermatt asked.

  "Our dear Jenny's family name."

  Every one agreed, and henceforward Montrose River figured on the map of New Switzerland.

  CHAPTER X - THE DISTANT SMOKE!

  THE next morning about six o'clock, at low tide, the points of a few rocks which had not been visible the day before were exposed round the edge of the creek. It was ascertained, however, that even at lowest ebb practicable passages remained forty to fifty fathoms in width. This meant that the Montrose river was navigable at all stages of the tide. The depth of water near the rocks where the Elizabeth was moored was so great that she was still floating five or six feet above the sandy bottom.

  About seven o'clock ripples were breaking along the rocks, forerunners of the flood tide, and the pinnace would soon have swung round upon her anchor if she had not been held by the hawser aft.

  Mr. Wolston and Ernest, who had been ashore since daybreak, came back at this moment, after inspecting the condition of the creek lower down. They merely had to jump on deck to rejoin M. and Mme. Zermatt and Mrs. Wolston and her daughter. Jack had gone out hunting with his two dogs, and was still absent. A few gunshots notified his presence in the neighbourhood and suggested his success in his sport. It was not long before he put in an appearance, with his game bag bulging with a brace of partridges and half a dozen quails.

  "I have not wasted my time or my powder," he remarked as he flung the brilliant-plumaged game down in the bows.

  "Our co
ngratulations," his father replied; "and now do not let us waste any more of the flood tide. Cast off the hawser and jump aboard."

  Jack obeyed, and leaped onto the deck with his dogs. The anchor being apeak already, it was only necessary to trice it up to the cathead. The pinnace was immediately caught by the tide, and, driven by a light breeze blowing in from the sea, she entered the mouth of the Montrose river. Then with the wind behind her she began to ascend it, keeping to the middle of the channel.

  The breadth of the stream from one bank to the other was not less than two hundred and fifty or three hundred feet. There was no indication of its narrowing, as far as the eye could see the banks ahead. On the right hand still ran the escarpment of the cliff, gradually diminishing in height while the ground rose in a barely perceptible slope. On the left, over the rather low bank, the eye travelled over plains broken by woods and clumps of trees, the tops of which were turning yellow at this season of the year.

  After half an hour's good travelling, the Elizabeth reached the first bend of the Montrose, which, making a loop of about thirty degrees, now wound towards the south-west.

  Beyond this bend the banks were not more than ten or twelve feet high—the height of the highest tides. This was proved by the layers of grass deposited among the tangled reeds, sharp-edged like bayonets. Inasmuch as on this date, the 19th of March, the equinoctial tides attained their maximum height, the conclusion was that the bed of the river was deep enough to contain all the sum of its waters, and that it never overflowed the surrounding country.

  The pinnace was moving at from eight to ten knots an hour, which meant that she might expect to cover somewhere near twenty miles during the time the flood tide lasted.

  Ernest had taken note of her speed and remarked:

  "That is more or less the distance at which we have calculated the mountains rise in the south."

  "Quite so," Mr. Wolston replied; "and if the river washes the foot of the range we shall have no difficulty in reaching it. In that case we need not postpone our projected trip for three or four months."

  "Still, it would take more time than we can spare now," M. Zermatt answered. "Even if the Montrose did take us to the foot of the range we should not have reached our goal. We should still have to ascend to the summit, and in all probability that would involve much time and trouble."

  "Besides," Ernest added, "when we have ascertained whether the river continues its course towards the southwest, we have yet to learn whether the stream is broken by rapids or barred by any obstacles we cannot pass."

  "We shall soon see," M. Zermatt replied. "Let us go on while the flood tide carries us, and we will make up our minds on the other point in a few hours' time."

  Beyond the bend the two banks were much less steep, and enabled a wide view to be obtained of the region traversed by the Montrose.

  Game of every kind swarmed in the grass and among the reeds along the banks; bustards, grouse, partridges and quails. If Jack had sent his dogs foraging along the banks and in the adjacent country, they could not have gone fifty yards without putting up rabbits, hares, agoutis, peccaries, and water-cavies. In this respect this district equalled that round Falconhurst, and the farmsteads—even in regard to the monkey tribe, which capered from tree to tree. A little way off, herds of antelope raced by, of the same species as that which was penned on Shark's Island. Herds of buffalo, too, were seen in more than one spot in the direction of the range, and sometimes distant glimpses were caught of herds of ostriches, half running, half flying as they sped away. On this occasion, M. Zermatt and his two sons did not mistake them for Arabs, as they had mistaken the first ostriches they saw from the heights above the hermitage at Eberfurt.

  Jack was impatient at being pinned to the Elizabeth's deck and unable to jump ashore, at having to watch all these birds and animals going by without being able to speed them with a shot. Yet there would have been no good in bringing down any of the game, since it was not required.

  "We are not hunters to-day," his father reminded him; "we are explorers, and, more particularly, geographers on a mission in this part of New Switzerland."

  The young Nimrod did not see the matter in that light, and made up his mind to beat the country with his dogs as soon as the pinnace reached her first anchorage. He would further the cause of geography in his own fashion; that is, he would survey partridges and hares instead of the points of the compass. This last was the job for the learned Ernest who was so anxious to add to his map the new territory that lay to the south of the Promised Land.

  Of carnivorous animals and of those wild beasts which, as has been said, were so numerous in the woods and plains at the end of Pearl Bay and at the entrance to the Green Valley, not a trace was seen along the banks of the Montrose during the course of this voyage. By great good fortune no lions or tigers, panthers or leopards, showed themselves. Jackals could be heard, indeed, howling in the outskirts of the nearest woods. The conclusion was that these beasts, which belong to a subgenus of the Canidse family, between the wolf and the fox, constituted the majority of the fauna of the island.

  It would be an oversight not to make mention of the many waterfowl seen, duck, teal, and snipe, which flew from one bank to another or took cover among the reeds. Jack would never willingly have thrown away such opportunities of exercising his skill. So he fired a few successful shots, and no one found fault with him for doing so, unless, perhaps, it was Hannah, who always begged quarter for these inoffensive creatures.

  "Inoffensive, perhaps, but excellent—when they are cooked to a turn!" Jack retorted.

  And it really was matter for congratulation that at luncheon and dinner the bill of fare was supplemented by the wild fowl which Fawn retrieved from the stream of the Montrose.

  It was a little after eleven o'clock that the Elizabeth reached a second bend in the river which turned further to the west, according to Ernest's expectation. From its general direction it could be deduced with sufficient certainty that it came down from the range, still some fifteen miles or more away, from which it was manifestly fed largely.

  "It is annoying that the tide has almost finished running," said Ernest, "and that we cannot go any farther."

  "Really annoying," M. Zermatt replied, "but it is slack now, and the ebb will be perceptible quite soon. Well, as this is the season of the highest tides, it is clear that the flood tide never reaches much beyond this bend of the Montrose."

  "Nothing could be clearer," Mr. Wolston agreed. "So now we must decide whether we shall moor here or whether we shall take advantage of the ebb to go back to the creek, which the pinnace could reach in less than two hours."

  The spot was charming, and every one was much tempted to spend the day there. The left bank formed a tiny cove, into which a little tributary of fresh and running water fell. Above it bent some mighty trees, with dense foliage, in which myriad chirpings and rustlings of wings were heard. It was a clump of enormous Indian fig-trees, almost identical with the mangrove-trees at Falconhurst. Behind this were groups of evergreen oaks, through whose shade the sun's rays could not pierce. Right at the back, under the dome of guava trees and cinnamons, down the whole length of the tributary stream, a fresh breeze stole, swaying the lower branches like so many fans.

  "What a perfectly delightful spot!" Mme. Zermatt exclaimed. "Expressly designed to be the site of a villa! A pity it is so far from Rock Castle!"

  "Yes: much too far, my dear," M. Zermatt replied. "But the site will not be wasted, you may be quite sure, and we must not take everything for ourselves. Would you leave nothing for our future fellow-citizens?"

  "You may be quite sure, Betsy," Mrs. Wolston said, "that this part of the island, watered by the Montrose river, will be much sought after by new colonists."

  "Meanwhile," said Jack, "I vote we camp here until evening, and even till to-morrow morning."

  "That is what we have to decide," M. Zermatt declared. "We must not forget that the ebb can take us back to the creek in a couple of hours, an
d that we should be back at Rock Castle by to-morrow evening."

  "What do you think about it, Hannah?" Ernest asked.

  "Let your father decide," the girl answered. "But I quite agree that this spot is delightful, and it would be pleasant to stay in it for one afternoon."

  "Besides," Ernest continued, "I should like to take a few more bearings."

  "And we should like to take a little nourishment,"

  Jack exclaimed. "Let us have lunch! Of your pity, let us have lunch!"

  It was agreed that they should spend the afternoon and evening in this loop of the Montrose. Then, at the next ebb tide, about one o'clock in the morning, when the night was clear—there would be a full moon —the pinnace would go down the river without the least risk. After leaving the creek she would either go to Unicorn Bay and anchor there, or would round Cape East and make Rock Castle, as the state of the sea and the direction of the wind might dictate.