by Jules Verne
It was well that this precaution had been taken for in the afternoon all game, both furred and feathered, entirely disappeared.
The midday halt was passed at the foot of an enormous pine, near which Ernest lighted a fire of dead branches. While one of the antelope's quarters was roasting under Jack's vigilant eye, Mr. Wolston and Ernest went off a few hundred yards to get a look at the country.
"If this forest belt extends as far as the range," said Ernest, "it most likely covers the lower slopes. At least, that is what I thought I could see this morning when we left our camp."
"In that case," Mr. Wolston replied, "we shall have to make the best of it, and go through these forests. We could not get round them without greatly lengthening our route, and we might even have to go right to the east coast."
"Which must be something like twenty-five miles away," Ernest remarked, "if my estimate is right. I mean the part of the coast we went to in the pinnace, at the mouth of the Montrose."
"If that is so, my dear boy, we cannot think of reaching the range from the east. The west—"
"That is the unknown quantity, sir; besides, when the range is viewed from above the Green Valley, it seems to run out of sight to the westward."
"Well, then," said Mr. Wolston, "if we have no choice, let us risk it and break our way right through this forest to the other side. If we can't do it in one day, we will take two, or we will take three; but we will get to our goal."
The antelope's meat, done to a turn on the live embers, some cassava cakes, and a handful of fruit gathered close by, bananas, guavas, and cinnamon apples, formed the meal, for which an hour's halt sufficed. Then they picked up their arms and game-bags again, and all three plunged into the forest, guiding themselves by the pocket compass.
Marching was easy enough among these straight-stemmed, widely-spaced pines and firs, for the ground was fairly level and carpeted with grass, or rather a kind of scanty moss, which was almost free from brambles and undergrowth. It would have been far otherwise in a semi-tropical forest, where the trees are entangled by parasites and knotted together by creepers. There were no serious obstacles to interfere with free movement in this vast pine wood. There was, it is true, no beaten path to be followed, not even one beaten by animals; but the trees allowed of free passage, although necessitating occasional detours.
Although game was now scarce, Jack and Mr. Wolston, and Ernest, too, were obliged to use their guns during this stage. It was not a matter of carnivorous animals, lions, tigers, panthers or pumas, some of which had been seen near the Promised Land and in the country round about Pearl Bay. But it was a breed as numerous as it was mischievous.
"The beggars!" Jack exclaimed. "One might almost think that the whole lot came to take shelter here after we drove them out of the woods at Wood Grange and Sugar-cane Grove!"
And after having received several fir-cones, hurled by a strong arm, in the chest, he made haste to let fly a couple of shots in reply.
A fusillade had to be kept up for a whole hour, at the risk of exhausting the ammunition carried for the trip. A score of monkeys lay on the ground, seriously or mortally wounded. When they came toppling down from branch to branch, Fawn sprang upon those that had not got strength left to escape, and finished them off by throttling them.
"If it were cocoa-nuts the rascals were bombarding us with," Jack demarked, "it would not be half bad."
"By Jove!" Mr. Wolston answered, "I prefer fircones to cocoa-nuts. They are not so hard."
"That is so; but there is no nourishment in them," Jack replied. "Whereas the cocoa-nut is meat and drink too."
"Well," said Ernest, "it is better to have these monkeys in the interior of the island than to have them in the neighbourhood of our farms. We have had quite enough to do already to protect ourselves from their damage, and to destroy them with traps and lines. If these will stay in their pinewood and never come back to the Promised Land, that is all we ask of them."
"And we ask them politely, tool" Jack added, backing his courtesy up with a final shot.
When the engagement was over they resumed their march, and the only difficulty lay in keeping a steady course towards the range.
For the canopy of pines spread away before them, dense and impenetrable, without a single break, without a single glimpse of where the declining sun now stood. There was not a clearing; not so much as a fallen tree. Mr. Wolston could congratulate himself on having brought neither waggon nor mount with him. The team of buffaloes, and Jack's onager, would have found it impossible to get through some places where the pines grew so close that they were almost entangled in one another, and it might have become necessary to turn back.
About seven in the evening they reached the southern boundary of the pine forest. The upward slope of the ground was so steep that the forest spread in tiers over the lower ramifications of the range, and the mountain summits came into view just as the sun was sinking behind the lesser chains which cut the western horizon.
There was a vast accumulation here of fragments of rock that had fallen from the mountain top. Here, too, a number of streams broke out, the source, perhaps, of the Montrose River, and followed the slope of the ground towards the east.
In spite of their keen desire to reach their goal, Mr. Wolston and the two boys looked about and sought a recess in the rocks, where they could find shelter until the morning. Then, whilst Ernest was busy getting ready their meal, Mr. Wolston and Jack went to the nearest trees to gather arm fills of dry grass, which they spread on the sand inside the little cave. They ate a couple of grouse, and then, being very tired, turned their thoughts to sleep.
But some precautions had to be taken. As day drew to a close animals had been heard howling near at hand, and with the howling an occasional roar was hear, the nature of which it would have been difficult for anyone to fail to realise.
So a fire was lighted at the mouth of the cave, to be kept up all night with the dry wood, of which Mr. Wolston and Jack collected a great heap.
Watch was maintained until sunrise, Ernest taking the first watch of three hours, Jack the second, and Mr. Wolston the third.
Next morning at daybreak all three were astir, and Jack called out in his ringing tones:
"Well, Mr. Wolston, here is the great day at last! In a few hours the dearest wish of your heart will be accomplished! You will have planted your flag on the highest point of New Switzerland!"
"In a few hours? Well, yes, if the climb is not too difficult," Ernest remarked.
"Anyhow," said Mr. Wolston, "whether to-day or to-morrow, we shall probably know what to think about the size of the island."
"Unless it extends right out of sight to the south and west," Jack replied.
"I don't think so," Mr. Wolston answered, "for then it could not have been missed by navigators in this part of the Indian Ocean."
"We shall see, we shall see!" Jack replied.
They made their breakfast of cold venison, carefully saving all that was left, for there would certainly be no game at all upon these barren slopes, which Fawn did not like at all. Outside the cave they slung their guns over their shoulders, for there were no wild animals to be afraid of now. Then, with Jack in front, Ernest following, and Mr. Wolston bringing up the rear, the three began the ascent of the lower slopes.
Ernest computed the height of the range to be eleven or twelve hundred feet. One peak, which rose up almost in front of the pinewood, towered six hundred feet above the ridge line. It was at the summit of this peak that Mr. Wolston desired to plant a flag.
About a hundred yards from the cave the forest belt came to an abrupt end. A few patches of verdure were still to be seen above, grass land with clumps of dwarf trees, aloes, mastics, myrtles, and heaths, attaining a height of six or seven hundred feet, and representing the second belt. But the acclivity was so steep that in some places it exceeded fifty degrees, and they had to tack on the way up.
A circumstance favourable to the ascent was that the mountain side provided
a firm foot-hold. There was no reason yet to hold on by the finger nails or have recourse to crawling. The foot got a firm hold on the verdure, broken by roots and jutting points of rock.
So the ascent could be effected without check, zigzagging so as to reduce the angle of inclination, although it would involve fatigue. Before the summit was reached the climbers would be obliged to halt at least once or twice to get their wind. Ernest and Jack, young and vigorous, in constant training and inured to all physical exercise, might not feel over-fatigued, but Mr. Wolston, at his age, could not afford a like expenditure of strength. But he would be quite satisfied if he and his companions were encamped at the foot of the peak before lunch time; it would only take them an hour or two after that to gain the extreme top.
Over and over again Jack was entreated not to imagine himself a chamois. They continued to mount, and, for his part, Mr. Wolston was determined not to cry halt till he had reached the foot of the peak, where the second belt of the range came to an end. That the most difficult part of the task would then be accomplished was not certain. For if, at that height, the eye could see towards the north and west and east, it certainly would not be able to see anything of the country which lay to the south. To do that they must reach the extreme summit. The country towards the Green Valley was known, between the mouth of the Montrose and the promontory of Pearl Bay. So their most natural and legitimate curiosity would not be satisfied until they had climbed to the top of the peak, or, should the ascent of it prove impracticable, until they had succeeded in working round it.
At last, when the second belt had been crossed, a halt at its extremity became imperative. Rest was necessary after such expenditure of energy. It was noon, and, after luncheon, the ascent of the longest incline of the peak could be begun again. Their stomachs were fairly clamouring for food. Physical effort of such a kind if apt to interfere with the digestion. But the urgency was now to fill their stomachs, without troubling to find out beforehand if they would or would not digest easily a meal whose sole solid dish consisted of the last scraps of the antelope.
An hour later Jack sprang to his feet again, leaped onto the first rocks at the foot of the slope, disregarding Mr. Wolston's warnings, and called out:
"Let him who loves me follow me!"
"Well, let us try to give him that proof of our affection, my dear Ernest," was Mr. Wolston's reply, "and above all, let us try to prevent him from making a fool of himself!"
CHAPTER XIV - JEAN ZERMATT PEAK
THIS peak was merely a prodigious pile of rocks, thrown together anyhow. Nevertheless there were ledges and projections on its face on which the foot could find a firm support. Still retaining the lead, Jack tested these and felt his way, and, following him cautiously, Mr. Wolston and Ernest gradually made their way up.
The surface of this third belt of the mountain was barren and desolate. There was practically no vegetation upon it.
Sometimes the surface was as smooth as glass, and a fall would have ended only at the bottom of the peak. Care had to be taken, too, not to displace any of the masses of rock, and so, perhaps, set moving an avalanche which would have rolled right down to the foot of the range.
Granite and limestone were the constituents of this mighty framework of the mountain. There was nothing to indicate a volcanic origin.
The three adventurers got half-way up the peak without mishap. But they could not entirely avoid starting some landslips.
Three or four huge rocks bounded furiously down the steeps to plunge into the depths of the forest below with a roar like thunder, repeated by the many echoes of the mountain.
At this altitude a few birds were still to be seen hovering about, sole representatives of animal life in this third belt, where, however, they did not seek to light. A few pairs of powerful birds of enormous spread of wing, leisurely flapping through the air, occasionally passed over the summit of the peak. Jack was greatly tempted to fire at them, and it would have been a great delight to him to have shot one of these vultures or gigantic condors.
More than once the young sportsman made a movement to raise his gun to his shoulder.
"What for?" Mr. Wolston called out.
"What? What for?' Jack answered. "Why, to—"
And then, without finishing his sentence, he would sling his gun behind him again, and spring forward over the rocks.
Now the upper crest of the slope became even steeper —a regular sugar-loaf. Mr. Wolston began to wonder whether there would be room for three people on the summit. It now became necessary for the traveller ahead to help the next. Jack pulled Ernest up; then Ernest pulled Mr. Wolston up. They had tried in vain to work round the base of the peak. It was only on the north side that the ascent presented difficulties that were not insuperable.
At last, about two o'clock in the afternoon, Jack's ringing voice was heard—the first, no doubt, that had ever resounded from this pinnacle.
"An island! It really is an island!"
A final effort by Mr. Wolston and Ernest brought them to the summit. There, on a narrow space not much more than twelve feet square exhausted, almost incapable of speaking, they lay down flat to recover breath.
Although the sea surrounded New Switzerland on all sides, it did so at unequal distances from the mountain. Widely displayed towards the south, much more restricted towards the east and west, and reduced to a mere bluish rim up in the north, the sea lay glittering under the rays of the sun, now a few degrees below its highest point of altitude.
It was now evident that the range did not occupy the central portion of the island. On the contrary, it rose in the south and followed an almost regular curve, drawn from east to west.
From this point, fifteen hundred feet above sea level, the range of vision was about forty or forty-five miles to the horizon. But New Switzerland did not extend in any direction as far as that.
"I calculate that our island must be a hundred and fifty to a hundred and seventy miles in circumference. That represents a considerable area, larger than the canton of Lucerne," said Ernest.
"What would its extent be, approximately?" Mr. Wolston asked.
"As far as I can estimate it, taking the configuration, which is a kind of oval drawn from east to west, into account, it might measure a thousand square miles," Ernest replied; "say half the size of Sicily."
"There are a good many famous islands that aren't so big," said Jack.
"Very true," Ernest answered; "and one of them, if my memory serves me, is one of the principal islands in the Mediterranean; it is of supreme importance to England, but it is only twenty-two miles long by ten miles broad."
"What is that?"
"Malta."
"Malta?" Mr. Wolston exclaimed, all his patriotism inflamed by the name. "Well, why should not New Switzerland become the Malta of the Indian Ocean?"
To which Jack replied in an aside with the very natural remark that old Switzerland would have done well to keep it for herself, and to establish a Swiss colony there.
The sky was clear, without the faintest haze in the atmosphere. There was not a trace of dampness in the air, and the land stood out in clear relief.
As the descent of the mountain would only take about a third of the time required for the ascent, Mr. Wolston and the two brothers had several hours at their disposal before the time came for them to get back to the pine wood. So they passed the telescope round from hand to hand, and took a careful survey of the vast country which lay spread out below them.
Ernest, with notebook and pencil, traced the outlines of this oval, through which the nineteenth parallel of the Southern Hemisphere ran for about fifty-five miles, and the hundred and fourteenth meridian east for about forty-seven.
In a northerly direction, at a distance of something like twenty-five miles as the crow flies, a good deal could be distinguished.
Beyond the coast line, a narrow edging of sea washed the portion comprised between False Hope Point and the promontory which enclosed Pearl Bay to the westward.
<
br /> "It's unmistakable," said Jack; "I need no telescope to recognise the Promised Land and the coast as far as Deliverance Bay."
"Quite so," Mr. Wolston agreed; "and at the far end of that opposite angle is Cape East, shutting in Unicorn Bay."
"Unfortunately," Jack went on, "even with this splendid telescope of Ernest's, we can't see any of the country near Jackal River."
"That is because it is hidden by the wall of rocks which bounds it on the south," Ernest replied. "You cannot see the summit of the range from Rock Castle or Falconhurst, and so you cannot see Rock Castle or Falconhurst from the summit of the range. That's logic, I suppose."
"Logic, indeed, most wise philosopher!" Jack answered. "But that ought to be equally true of False Hope Point, and yet there it is, that cape running out to the north, and since we can see it—"
