The Mysterious Island

by Jules Verne

  "And Ernest will be sorry to go without her," M. Zermatt added. "Yes, those two young creatures are attracted towards each other, and some day Ernest will be united to the woman he loves in the chapel he has designed! But we will talk about that marriage again, at the proper time."

  "It will please Mr. and Mrs. Wolston as much as it pleases us," Mme. Zermatt answered.

  When M. Zermatt propounded his suggestion it was received with general approval. Ernest and Hannah were obliged to fall in with so reasonable a plan. The former acknowledged that ladies ought not to venture upon an expedition of this kind, and the latter recognised that Ernest's presence was indispensable.

  The 25th of September was the date fixed for the start.

  And now every one was busy getting ready for the journey. Mr. Wolston and the two young men had agreed to make the expedition on foot. It might well be that the country adjoining the base of the mountain range was as difficult as that through which the upper reaches of the Montrose River ran.

  So they would go on foot, staff in hand, gun slung across back, with the two dogs in attendance. Jack was an excellent shot, and neither Mr. Wolston nor Ernest was to be despised, so the three hunters could rely upon being able to find plenty of food for themselves.

  But the waggon and team of buffaloes had to be got ready to convey the two families to the hermitage at Eberfurt. M. Zermatt wished to take advantage of this opportunity to visit this farm, which lay at the far end of the Promised Land. The suggestion that the rest should accompany Mr. Wolston and Jack and Ernest as far as the end of the defile of Cluse was received with acclamation. It might, perhaps, be convenient to prolong the stay at Eberfurt if the house should be found to require work at which everyone would be needed to lend a hand.

  On the 25th, at a very early hour, the waggon left Rock Castle, followed by the two dogs, Brownie and Fawn. It was large enough to hold them all. The stage was a good eight miles, but the buffaloes could cover it before noon.

  The weather was fine, the sky blue and dappled. A few light fleecy clouds veiled the sun's rays and tempered their heat.

  About eleven o'clock, after travelling across a green and fertile country, the waggon arrived at the hermitage of Eberfurt.

  In the little wood which lay on the hither side of it, a dozen or so monkeys were seen. It was imperative to drive them out of it, and they fled before a few shots.

  As soon as the waggon had come to a stop, the party proceeded to install themselves in the house. Being well protected by the surrounding trees, it had suffered but slight damage from the bad weather. While the three women set about preparing luncheon, the men went off, about a gun-shot's range, to inspect the defile of Cluse, which led into the hinterland of the island.

  Some important and arduous work had to be done here, for powerful animals had attempted to break through the barrier, and it was necessary to strengthen it. It appeared that a herd of elephants had tried to get through the defile, and if they had succeeded they might have done great damage not only at Eberfurt, but also to the farms at Sugar-cane Grove and Wood Grange. There might even have been occasion to defend Rock Castle from an attack by these formidable pachyderms.

  It took the afternoon and the whole of the following day to fix the new beams and logs in place. All hands were needed to move these heavy weights and adjust them firmly. But when the job was done they had the satisfaction of knowing that the pass could not be forced.

  The hermitage at Eberfurt was no longer the hut of Kamchatkan type, supported by four trees and raised twenty feet above the ground. There was now an enclosed and stockaded house, containing several rooms, sufficient to accommodate both families. On either hand were ample sheds built beneath the lower branches of the mangroves and evergreen oaks. It was there that the team of buffaloes was stabled, with plenty of fodder. There the well-trained, sturdy animals could chew the cud to their hearts' content.

  Game swarmed in the neighbourhood—hares, rabbits, partridges, cavies, agoutis, bustards, grouse, and antelopes. Jack had a delightful time. Some of the game, after it had been roasted before the fire sparkling on the hearth, was reserved for the three men on their expedition. With their game-bags at their side, their knapsacks on their back, with tinder to light a fire, content with broiled meat and cassava cakes, with plenty of powder and shot, and with flasks full of brandy, they could not imagine any ground for anxiety on the score of their daily food. Besides, as they crossed the fertile plains, of which they had already caught glimpses over the Green Valley and to the south of Pearl Bay, they must surely find edible roots and fruits.

  On the 27th of September, at a very early hour, the last good-byes were said in the defile of Cluse. For a whole fortnight there would be no news of the absent ones! How long the time would seem!

  "No news?" said Ernest. "No, mamma; no, Hannah dear, you shall have news."

  "By post?" Jack enquired.

  "Yes, by aerial post," Ernest answered. "Don't you see this pigeon that I have brought in its little cage? Do you suppose I brought it only to leave it at Eberfurt? No, we will let it go from the top of the range, and it will bring you news of our expedition."

  Everybody applauded this excellent idea, and Hannah vowed in her heart to watch every day for the coming of Ernest's messenger.

  Mr. Wolston and the two brothers passed through a narrow outlet contrived between the posts in the defile of Cluse. It was carefully shut behind them, and in a few minutes they disappeared behind a bend in the barrier of rock.

  CHAPTER XIII - THE MOUNTAIN RANGE

  TO go afoot is ideal travelling. Going afoot allows a man to see all that there is to see, gives leave for dallying. Who goes afoot is satisfied with by-paths when the high road is no more. He may proceed as the humour takes him, pass where the lightest vehicle, the best trained steed, could find no way, ascend the shelving steeps, and scale the mountain tops.

  Thus, though they might have to endure great fatigue, Mr. Wolston and the two young men had not hesitated to plunge on foot into the heart of the unknown districts of the hinterland, all the more willingly in anticipation of their projected climb to the summit of the range.

  This plan only involved a tramp of eighteen or twenty miles, provided they were able to go in a bee line to the foot of the mountains. There was thus no question of any long journey. But it was all through entirely new country, which might hold surprises for the three explorers.

  Jack was the most highly excited of the party. With his adventurous temper it was an enormous satisfaction to him to pass beyond the limits of the Promised Land and to travel over these wide plains, of which he as yet knew nothing. It was a fortunate thing that he was not mounted on onager, bull, or ostrich, and that he had brought only one dog, Fawn. Thus, Mr. Wolston would have some chance of restraining his impetuosity.

  When they emerged from the defile the three turned first towards the little eminence which was called the Arabian Watch-tower, in memory of the troop of ostriches in which M. Zermatt and his boy had imagined they saw a troop of Bedouin Arabs on horseback, on the occasion of their first visit to the Green Valley. From this tower they turned off towards the Bears' Cave where, a few years before, Ernest had come so near being suffocated in the hug of one of these much too pressing creatures!

  It was not their notion to follow up the course of the Eastern River, which ran from south to west.

  That would have meant lengthening their route, since the slopes of the range rose towards the south.

  This led Ernest to observe:

  "What we can't do on the Eastern River might have been done on the Montrose. It would certainly have been much shorter for us if we could have gone up one of its banks."

  "What I want to know," said Jack, "is why we could not have gone in the pinnace to the mouth of the Montrose? The canoe might have taken us from there as far as the barrage, which is twelve to fifteen miles at most from the range."

  "Nothing would have been easier, my dear boy," Mr. Wolston replied. "But the d
esert country through which the Montrose runs has nothing of interest to show us. So it is ever so much better to go across the region which lies between Deliverance Bay and the mountains."

  Their route continued down the Green Valley, which extended for about five miles parallel to the boundary wall of the Promised Land. This valley was about a couple of thousand yards in width, and contained dense woods, isolated clumps of trees, and grass lands rising in terraces up its sloping sides. In it was a stream which murmured as it ran among the reeds, and which flowed either into the Eastern River, or into Nautilus Bay.

  Mr. Wolston and the two brothers were longing to get to the end of the Green Valley, so as to obtain their first glimpse of the country which opened up to the south. To the best of his skill and knowledge Ernest took their bearings as they went, by means of his pocket compass, and made notes of them, with the distances they covered.

  About midday they halted in the shade of a clump of guava trees, not far from grass where euphorbia grew in abundance. A few partridges which Jack had shot as he went along, were plucked and cleaned and roasted over a fire, and, with some cassava cakes, formed the luncheon. The stream provided clear water, with which a dash of brandy from the flasks was mixed, and ripe guavas served admirably for dessert.

  Invigorated and rested, the three men resumed their march. The far end of the valley was penned in between two lofty walls of rock. As it ran through this narrow gorge the stream was transformed into a torrent, and the outlet came into view.

  An almost flat country, displaying all the luxuriant fertility of the tropics, spread as far as the first belts of the range. What a difference from the region watered by the upper reaches of the Montrose! A couple of miles away to the south-east, a liquid ribbon unrolled, gleaming in the sun, no doubt flowing to join the Montrose.

  Southwards, as far as the foot of the mountains, for fifteen miles or more, plains and forests succeeded one another. The marching was often heavy. The ground was thickly covered with grass five and six feet high, with tall reeds studded with prickly plumes, and with sugar-canes waving in the breeze as far as eye could see. There was no doubt it would be possible to develop with vast profit all these natural products which, at this period, formed the principal wealth of over-sea dominions.

  When Mr. Wolston and the two young men had walked for four solid hours, Ernest said:

  "I vote we call a halt."

  "What, already?" exclaimed Jack, who had as little desire to rest as his dog had.

  "I agree with Ernest," said Mr. Wolston. "This seems a suitable spot, and we can spend the night at the edge of this copse of nettle-trees."

  "Well, then, let us camp," said Jack, "and have dinner, too, for my stomach's empty."

  "Must we light a fire and keep it up till daylight?" Ernest asked.

  "It would be wise," Jack declared; "that is the best way to keep wild beasts off."

  "No doubt," said Mr. Wolston, "but we should have to keep watch in turns, and I think sleep is better. I do not think there is anything for us to fear."

  "No," said Ernest confidently; "I have not noticed any suspicious tracks, and we have not heard a growl since we left the Green Valley. We may as well spare ourselves the weariness of keeping watch one after the other."

  Jack did not insist, and the travellers prepared to appease their hunger.

  The night gave promise of being one of those nights when nature slumbers sweetly, and no breath disturbs the peace. Not a leaf moved among the trees, not the snapping of a twig broke the silence of the plain.

  Fawn betrayed no symptoms of uneasiness. No hoarse bark of jackals was heard from afar, although those brutes were so numerous in the island. Upon the whole, there did not seem to be the least imprudence in sleeping under the open sky.

  Mr. Wolston and the two brothers dined off the remains of their luncheon and a few turtle eggs, which Ernest had found, roasted among the ashes, with the addition of some of the fresh kernels of the fir-apples which grew in quantities in the neighbourhood, and which have the flavour of the hazel-nut.

  The first to close his eyes was Jack, for he was the most tired of the three. He had never stopped beating the thickets and the bushes, often at such a distance that Mr. Wolston had been obliged to call him back. But as he was the first to go to sleep, so, too, was he the first to wake at daybreak.

  The three resumed their march at once. An hour later they had to ford a little stream which probably ran into the Montrose five or six miles further on. So at least Ernest believed, taking its south-westerly course into consideration.

  There were still the same wide prairies, vast plantations of sugar-cane, and, in the damp places, many clumps of those wax-trees which bear the flower on one stalk and the fruit upon the other.

  At last dense forests appeared instead of the trees that grew singly upon the flanks of the Green Valley, cinnamons, palms of various kinds, figs, mangroves, and many bearing no edible fruit, such as spruce and evergreen oak and maritime oak, all of magnificent growth. Except in the few spots where the wax-trees grew, there were no marshy places in this district. Moreover, the ground rose steadily—a fact which deprived Jack of his last hope of meeting any flocks of waterfowl. He would have to be satisfied with the game of plain and forest.

  Mr. Wolston said:

  "It is quite clear, my dear Jack, that we shall have nothing to complain of if we are reduced to sultana birds, partridges, quails, bustards and grouse, not to mention antelopes, cavies, and agoutis. But I think it would be wise only to lay in supplies just as we are going to make a halt, so as to not to overload our game-bags."

  "You are quite right, Mr. Wolston," the ardent sportsman replied. "But when game comes within such easy range it is very difficult to resist."

  But finally Jack fell in with Mr. Wolston's advice. It was as late as eleven o'clock when several gunshots proclaimed the fact that the bill of fare for the first meal was just completed. People who like their game a little high would very likely have found fault with the brace of grouse and the three snipe that Fawn retrieved from the brushwood. But nothing was left of these birds, which were roasted before a fire of dry wood. As for the dog, he regaled himself upon the carcasses.

  In the afternoon, however, a few more shots were necessary to drive away animals formidable if only because of their superior numbers. All three guns had to speak to put to flight a band of wild cats, of the kind that had been seen previously within the Promised Land, when the first visit was paid to the Green Valley. They made off with a heavy list of wounded, raising hideous cries which resembled mewing and howling mixed. It might be well to make careful provision against an attack by them during the next halt for the night.

  This country was rich in birds, other than game— parrots, parrakeets, brilliant scarlet macaws, tiny toucans with green wings decked with gold, big Virginian blue-jays, and tall flamingoes. It was also thronged with antelopes, elands, quaggas, onagers, and buffaloes.

  Directly they scented the presence of man from afar, these creatures galloped away at great speed.

  The country, still rising steadily towards the range, had lost as yet none of its fertility, which was as great as that of the northern part of the island. Soon Mr. Wolston, Ernest, and Jack came to a wooded belt. As they drew near the foot of the mountains they saw a succession of lofty forests, seemingly of great density. Next morning they might expect a much more difficult and fatiguing march.

  That evening the hungry men regaled themselves upon hazel-hens, of which all three had bagged a few from a covey which Fawn put up in the tall and tangled grass. Camp was pitched at the edge of a magnificent forest of sago-trees, watered by a tiny stream which the steep pitch of the ground converted into a torrent as it sped on its course towards the south-west.

  On this occasion Mr. Wolston decided to organise a sharp watch on the outskirts of the camp. A fire was to be kept alive until dawn. This necessitated their taking it in turns to watch by it throughout the night, which was disturbed by the howling o
f animals within close distance.

  The start next morning was made in the small hours. Another seven or eight miles, and the foot of the mountains would be reached—perhaps in the second stage that day, if no obstacle occurred to delay the march. And if the flanks of the range were practicable on their northern side, the ascent would only take the first few hours of the following morning.

  The country now presented a very different appearance from that seen on emerging from the Green Valley. To right and left, woods rose, tier on tier. They consisted almost exclusively of resinous species, which flourish in great altitudes, and were watered by brawling little streams which flowed towards the east. These little streams, which contributed directly or indirectly to the Montrose, would soon dry up under the heat of summer, and already it was possible to cross them ankle-deep.

  The adventurers went on until eleven o'clock. A halt was then called for rest and refreshment, after a pretty tiring stage.

  There had been no lack of game from the start. Jack had even succeeded in bagging a young antelope, the best portions of which he brought in, and the game-bags were packed with what was left, to serve for the evening dinner.