by Jules Verne
The men were out at daybreak. First of all John Block went down the beach along the promontory and made for the boat. It was still floating but would soon be left high and dry by the ebb tide. Being fastened by hawsers on both sides, it had not bumped against the rocks, even when the tide was at its highest, and as long as the wind continued to blow from the east it could come to no harm. In the event of the wind veering to the south they would see if it was necessary to look for other moorings. Meantime the weather seemed to be definitely set fair, and this was the fine season.
When he got back the boatswain sought out Fritz and spoke to him about this.
"It's worth giving a little thought to," he said. "Our boat comes before everything else. A snug cave is fine. But one doesn't go to sea in a cave, and when the time comes for us to leave—if it ever does come—it's important that we shouldn't be prevented from doing so."
"Of course, Block," Fritz answered. "We will take every possible care to prevent the boat coming to harm. Do you think perhaps there is a better mooring for her on the other side of the promontory?''
"We'll see, sir, and since everything is all right on this side I will go round to the other and hunt turtles. Will you come with me?"
"No, Block. Go alone. I am going back to the captain. This last good night's rest must have reduced the fever. When he wakes he will want to discuss the situation. I must be there to tell him all that has happened."
"Quite right, Mr. Fritz; and mind you tell him that there is nothing to be uneasy about at present."
The boatswain went to the far end of the promontory, and sprang from rock to rock across the creek towards the place where he and Frank had come upon the turtles the day before.
Fritz returned to the cave, up to which Frank and James were busy bringing armfuls of sea-weed. Mrs. Wolston was dressing little Bob. Jenny and Dolly were still with the captain. In the corner of the promontory the fire crackled under the stove, and the kettle began to boil, white steam escaping from its spout.
When Fritz had finished his conversation with the captain, he and Jenny went down to the beach. They walked a little way and then turned back under the lofty cliff which enclosed them like a prison wall.
Fritz spoke in tones of deep emotion.
"Dear wife, I must talk to you of what is in my heart. I can see you with me in the canoe after I had found you upon Burning Rock. And then our meeting with the pinnace, and our return to Rock Castle with all the others! Two happy years slipped by with nothing to mar their quiet happiness! You were the joy and charm of our circle. We were so accustomed to life under those conditions that it seemed as if there were no world outside our island. And if it had not been for the thought of your father, beloved, perhaps we should not have sailed on the Unicorn—perhaps we should never have left New Switzerland."
"Why do you talk now of this, Fritz, dear?" said Jenny, greatly moved.
"I want to tell you how heavy my heart has been since ill fortune has set in upon us. Yes! I am full of remorse at having brought you to share it with me!"
"You must not fear ill fortune," Jenny answered. "A man of your courage, your energy, will not give way to despair, Fritz."
"Let me finish, Jenny! One day the Unicorn arrived, over there, off New Switzerland. She went away again, and took us to Europe. From that moment misfortune has never ceased to strike you. Colonel Montrose died before he could see his child –"
"Poor father!" said Jenny, her eyes wet. "Yes, that happiness was withheld from him— of clasping me in his arms, and rewarding my rescuer by placing my hand in his. But God willed otherwise, and we must submit."
"Well, Jenny dear," Fritz went on, "at all events there you were, back in England; you had seen your own land again; you might have remained there with your own people and found quiet happiness."
"Happiness! Without you, Fritz?''
"And then, Jenny, you would not have incurred fresh dangers, after all those which you had escaped so miraculously. Yet you consented to follow me back to our island again."
"Do you forget that I am your wife, Fritz? Could I have hesitated to leave Europe, to rejoin all those whom I love, your family, which is mine henceforward?"
"But Jenny, Jenny, that does not make it less true that I drew you into fresh danger— and danger that I cannot think of without panic. Our present situation is desperate. Oh! those mutineers who caused it all, who cast us adrift! And you, shipwrecked once in the Dorcas, now cast again upon an unknown island even less habitable than Burning Rock!"
"But I am not alone; I have you, and Frank, and our friends, brave and determined men. Fritz, I shrink from no dangers present or to come! I know that you will do everything possible for our safety."
"Everything, my darling," Fritz exclaimed, "but though the thought that you are there must double my courage, yet it also grieves me so much that I want to throw myself at your knees and beg for your forgiveness! It is my fault that –"
"Fritz," she answered, clinging to him, "no one could possibly have foreseen the things which have happened—the mutiny, and our being cast adrift at sea. Far better forget the ill fortune and contemplate only the good! We might have been murdered by the crew of the Flag, or doomed to the tortures of hunger and thirst in the boat. We might have perished in some storm. But instead we have reached a land which is not quite without resources, which at least gives us shelter. If we do not know what land it is we must try to find out, and we will leave it if we find that we must."
"To go—whither, my poor Jenny?"
"Somewhere else, as our dear boatswain would say; to go wherever God wills that we shall!"
"My dear wife!" Fritz exclaimed. "You have given me back my courage! Yes! We will fight on; we will not give way to despair. We will think of the precious lives that are confided to our care. We will save them! We will save them—with the help of God!"
"On whom we never call in vain!" said Frank, who had overheard the last words spoken by his brother. "Let us keep our trust in Him, and He will not forsake us!"
Under Jenny's encouragement Fritz recovered all his energy. His companions were as ready as he was to spend themselves in superhuman efforts.
About ten o'clock, as the weather was fine,
Captain Gould was able to come and stretch himself in the sun at the far end of the promontory. The boatswain returned from his trip round the creek as far as the foot of the bluff to the east. Beyond that it was impossible to go. Even at low tide it would have been useless to attempt to get round the foot of this huge rock, about which the surf beat violently.
John Block had been joined by James in the creek, and both brought back turtles and eggs. These chelones swarmed upon the shore. In anticipation of an early departure it would be possible to lay in a large stock of their flesh, which would secure a supply of food for the passengers.
After luncheon the men talked while Jenny, Polly, and Susan busied themselves washing the spare linen in the fresh water of the stream. It would dry quickly in the sun, for the day was hot. Afterwards, all the clothes were to be mended, so that everybody might be ready to go aboard the boat again directly it should be decided to make a start.
They had important questions to answer. What was the geographical position of this land? Was it possible to ascertain it without instruments, within a few degrees, taking the position of the sun at noon as a basis for calculation? Such an observation could not be absolutely accurate. But to-day it seemed to confirm the opinion, already advanced by Captain Gould, that this land must lie between the fortieth and thirtieth parallels. What meridian crossed it from north to south there were no means of ascertaining, although the Flag must have been somewhere in the western waters of the Pacific Ocean.
Then the idea of reaching the upper plateau came up again. Pending the recovery of the captain, was it not necessary to find out whether the boat had come ashore on a continent, an island, or a mere islet? As the cliff was seven or eight hundred feet high it was quite possible that some other land might be v
isible a few miles out at sea. So Fritz and Frank and the boatswain made up their minds to climb to the top of the cliff.
Several days passed without bringing any change in the situation. Every one realised the necessity of escaping from it somehow or other, and all were seriously afraid that it might become worse. The weather remained fine. The heat was great, but there was no thunder.
On several occasions John Block and Fritz and Frank had walked round the bay from the western bastion as far as the bluff. In vain had they looked for a gorge or less precipitous slope by which they might gain the plateau above. The wall rose sheer.
Meantime the captain approached complete recovery. His wound was healed, though it was still bandaged. The attacks of fever had become more and more rare, and had now ceased. His strength was coming back slowly, but he could now walk unsupported. He was always talking to Fritz and the boatswain of the chances of another voyage in the boat northward. On the morning of the 25th, he was able to go as far as the foot of the bluff, and agreed that it was impossible to walk round the base of it.
Fritz, who had accompanied him, with Frank and John Block, offered to dive into the sea and so get to the shore beyond. But although he was an excellent swimmer, there was such a current running at the foot of the bluff that the captain was obliged to order the young man not to put this dangerous idea into execution. Once borne away by the current, who could say if Fritz could have got back to the shore?
"No," said Captain Gould, "it would be rash, and there is no good in running into danger. We will go in the boat to reconnoitre that part of the coast, and if we go a few cables' length out, we shall be able to get a more extended view of it. Unfortunately I am very much afraid that it will be found to be as barren everywhere as it is here."
"You mean that we are on some islet?" Frank remarked.
"There is reason to suppose so," the captain replied.
"Very well," said Fritz, "but does it follow that this islet is an isolated point? Why should it not be part of some group of islands lying to the north, east, or west?"
"What group, my dear Fritz?" the captain retorted. "If, as everything goes to show, we are in Australian or New Zealand waters here, there is no group of islands in this part of the Pacific."
"Because the charts don't show any, does it follow that there aren't any?" Fritz remarked. "The position of New Switzerland was not known and yet –"
"Quite true," Harry Gould replied; "that was because it lies outside the track of shipping. Very seldom, practically never, do ships cross that bit of the Indian Ocean where it is situated, whereas to the south of Australia the seas are very busy, and no island, or group of any size, could possibly have escaped the notice of navigators."
"There is still the possibility that we are somewhere near Australia,'' Frank went on.
"A distinct possibility," the captain answered, "and I should not be surprised if we are at its south-west extremity, somewhere near Cape Leeuwin. In that case we should have to fear the ferocious Australian natives.''
"And so," the boatswain remarked, "it is better to be on an islet, where at any rate one is sure not to run up against cannibals.''
"And that is what we should probably know if we could get to the top of the cliff," Frank added.
"Yes," said Fritz; "but there isn't a single place where we can do it."
"Not even by climbing up the promontory?" Captain Gould asked.
"It is practicable, although very difficult, as far as half way," Fritz answered, "but the upper walls are absolutely perpendicular. We should have to use ladders, and even then success isn't certain. If there were some chimney which we could get up with ropes, it might perhaps be possible to reach the top, but there isn't one anywhere."
"Then we will take the boat and reconnoitre the coast," said Captain Gould.
"When you are completely recovered, captain, and not before," replied Fritz firmly. "It will be several days yet before –"
"I am getting better, Fritz," the captain declared ; "how could it be otherwise, with all the attention I have? Mrs. Wolston and your wife and Dolly would have cured me merely by looking at me. We will put to sea in forty-eight hours at latest."
"Westward or eastward?" Fritz asked.
"According to the wind," the captain replied.
"And I have an idea that this trip will be a lucky one," the boatswain put in.
Fritz, Frank, and John Block had already done all but the impossible in their attempts to scale the promontory. They had got about two hundred feet up, although the gradient was very steep, by slipping from one rock to the .next in the very middle of a torrent of landslides, with the agility of chamois or ibex; but a third of the way up they had come to a stop. It had been a highly dangerous attempt, and the boatswain had come within an ace of breaking some of his bones.
But from that point all their attempts to continue the ascent were in vain. The promontory ended here in a vertical section with a smooth surface. There was not a foothold anywhere, not the tiniest projection on which the boat's ropes might have been caught. And they were still six or seven hundred feet from the top of the cliff.
When they returned to the cave Captain Gould explained the decision which had been reached. Two days hence, on the 27th of October, the boat was to leave her moorings to go along the coast. Had a trip of several days' duration been involved, everybody would have gone in the boat. But as only a general reconnaissance was contemplated, he thought it would be better that only he should go with Fritz and the boatswain. They three would be enough to handle the boat, and they would not go farther away to the north than they must. If they found that the coast-line bounded nothing more than an islet they could make the circuit of it and be back within twenty-four hours.
Short as their absence might be, the idea of it excited great uneasiness. The rest of the party would not be able to see their companions go without much anxiety. How could they tell what might happen? Suppose they were attacked by savages—suppose they could not get back soon—suppose they did not come back at all?
Jenny used these arguments with characteristic energy. She insisted that the many anxieties they endured already should not be added to by others arising from an absence which might be prolonged. Fritz sympathised with her arguments, Captain Gould accepted them, and ultimately it was agreed that they should all take part in the projected exploration.
As soon as this decision had been arrived at, to the general satisfaction, John Block got busy putting the boat in order. Not that it required any repairs, for it had come to little harm since it had been cast adrift, but it was well to overhaul it and fit it up in anticipation of a possible extension of the voyage to some adjoining land. So the boatswain worked his hardest to make it more comfortable, enclosing the fore-deck so that the women might have shelter from squalls and breaking waves.
There was nothing more to do but wait, and meanwhile lay in provisions for a voyage which might perhaps be longer than was intended. Besides, if it were necessary to leave Turtle Bay finally, ordinary prudence suggested that they should do so without delay, that they should take advantage of the fine season just beginning in these southern regions.
They could not but quail before the idea of a winter here. True, the cave offered them a sure shelter against the storms from the south, which are appalling in the Pacific. The cold, too, could no doubt be faced, for there would be no lack of fuel, thanks to the enormous collection of sea-weed at the foot of the cliff.
But suppose the turtles failed? Would they be reduced to fish as sole diet! And the boat— where could they put that in safety, out of reach of the waves which must break right up to the back of the beach in the winter? Would they be able to haul it up above the highest tide-marks? Harry Gould and Fritz and the rest had only their own arms to rely on, not a tool, not a lever, not a lifting-jack, and the boat was heavy enough to resist their united efforts.
At this time of year there was happily nothing but passing storms to fear. The fortnight that they ha
d spent ashore had enabled them all to pick up their moral and physical strength as well as to recover confidence.
Their preparations were completed in the morning of the 26th. Fritz observed with some uneasiness that clouds were beginning to gather in the south. They were still a long way off, but were assuming a lurid hue. The breeze was almost imperceptible, yet the heavy mass of cloud was rising in a solid body. If this thunderstorm burst it would burst full upon Turtle Bay.
Hitherto the rocks at the far end of the promontory had protected the boat from the easterly winds. From the other side, too, the westerly winds could not have touched it, and firmly held as it was by hawsers, it might have escaped too severe a buffeting. But if a furious sea swept in from the open main, it would be unprotected and might be smashed to pieces.
