by Jules Verne
Breakfast was hurried through. After four months passed in this bay, they were naturally in a hurry to find out whether their situation had improved, perhaps even changed entirely.
Besides, there would still be time to come back, if the upper plateau proved to be as barren as the shore, if it were unsuitable for a settlement, if from the extreme summit no other land were to be seen in the proximity. If the castaways from the Flag found they had landed on an island or islet, they would return to the cave and make their arrangements to meet the winter there.
Directly the meal was finished the men took the bundles of provisions. The first cave was left, and, with the albatross walking beside Jenny, all went through the mouth of the passage.
When they came to the mouth of the gorge, Fritz and Frank went through first. After them came Jenny, Dolly, and Susan, holding little Bob's hand.
Captain Gould and James came next, and John Block closed the rear.
At first the gorge was so narrow that they had to walk in single file.
It was really nothing but a cleft in the solid rock, running in a northerly direction between two vertical walls which rose to a height of eight or nine hundred feet.
After a hundred yards or so in a straight line, the ground began to slope upwards rather steeply. The way must be a long one, for if it did debouch upon the plateau it would have had to make up the five hundred feet or so from the level of the beach to the upper part of the cliff. Moreover, the journey was soon lengthened by the twists and turns of the path. It was like the abrupt and capricious twisting of a labyrinth inside the mass of rock. But judging from the light that spread from above, Harry Gould believed that the general direction of the gorge was from south to north. The lateral walls gradually drew further apart, rendering the march much easier.
About ten o'clock they were obliged to call a halt to allow everyone to recover breath. They stopped in a sort of semi-circular cavity, above which a much larger slice of the sky was visible.
Captain Gould estimated that this spot was about two hundred feet above the level of the sea.
"At this rate," he remarked, "it will take us five or six hours to reach the top."
"Well," Fritz replied, "it will still be broad daylight when we get there, and if need be we shall have time to get down again before night."
"Quite true, Fritz," the captain replied, "but how can we be sure that the gorge is not lengthened by an even greater number of turnings?"
"Or that it does not come out upon the cliff?" Frank added.
"Whether it's at the top or the side of the cliff, let us take things as they come," the boatswain put in. "Above, if it is above, below, if it is below! After all, this don't matter much!" After a rest of half an hour, the march was resumed. The gorge, which wound about ever more and more, and now measured ten to twelve feet across, was carpeted with a sandy soil, scattered with pebbles, and without a sign of vegetation. It seemed as though the summit must be an arid waste, for otherwise some seed or germ would have been carried down by the rain and would have sprouted. But there was nothing here—not even a patch of lichen or moss.
About two o'clock in the afternoon another halt was called for rest and refreshment. They all sat down in a kind of clearing where the walls widened out like a bell, and over which the sun was passing on its downward way to the west. The height now attained was estimated at seven or eight hundred feet, which justified the hope of reaching the upper plateau.
At three o'clock the journey was resumed. The difficulties became momentarily greater. The slope was very steep, the ground strown with landslips which made climbing hard, and there were large stones which slipped and bounded down. The gorge, which had widened out considerably, now formed a ravine, with sides still rising two or three hundred feet in height. They had to help one another, and pull each other up by the arms. Everything pointed to the possibility of reaching the plateau now. And the albatross spread out its wings and rose with a spring, as if inviting them to follow. Oh! if only they could have followed in its flight!
At last, after incredible efforts, a little before five o'clock, they all stood on the top of the cliff.
To south, to east, to west, nothing at all was to be seen—nothing but the vast expanse of ocean!
Northwards, the plateau extended over an area which could not be estimated, for its boundary crest could not be seen. Did it present a perpendicular wall on that side, fronting the sea? Would they have to go to the far end of it, to see the horizon of the sea in that direction?
Altogether, it was a disappointing sight for people who had hoped to set foot upon some fertile, verdant, wooded region. The same arid desolation reigned here as at Turtle Bay, which was perhaps less depressing, if not less sterile, since mosses did gem it here and there, and there were plenty of sea-weeds on its sandy shore.
And when they turned towards the east and the west, they looked in vain for the outlines of a continent or island. Everything went to show that this was a lonely islet in the middle of these wastes of water.
Not a word was uttered by anyone before this dashing of their last hopes. These ghastly solitudes offered no resources. There was nothing to do but descend the ravine, get back to the shore, go into the cave again, settle down there for the long winter months, and wait for rescue from outside!
It was now five o'clock, and there was no time to be lost before the darkness of evening fell. In the gathering shades the walking would not be easy.
Yet, since the northern part of the plateau had still to be explored, it seemed best to make the exploration now. Might it not even be well to camp for the night among the rocks scattered all over the surface? But perhaps that would not be prudent. If the weather changed, where could shelter be found? Prudence required that they should go back without delay.
Then Fritz made a suggestion.
"Jenny, dear, let James and Frank take you back to the cave with Dolly and Mrs. Wolston and the little chap. You can't spend the night on the cliff. Captain Gould, John Block, and I will stay here, and directly it is light to-morrow we will finish our exploration.''
Jenny did not answer, and Susan and Dolly seemed to be consulting her with their eyes.
"What Fritz suggests is wise," Frank put in; "and besides, what good can we hope to do by staying here?"
Jenny continued to keep silence, with her eyes fixed upon the vast ocean which spread over three-quarters of the horizon, looking perhaps for the sight of a sail, telling herself that a light might appear in the far offing.
The sun was sinking rapidly already, among clouds driven from the north, and it would mean at least two hours' march through dense darkness to reach Turtle Bay.
Fritz began again:
'' Jenny, I beg you, go! No doubt to-morrow will be enough for us. We shall be back in the evening.''
Jenny cast a last look all round her. All had risen, ready to make a start. The faithful albatross was fluttering from rock to rock, while the other birds, sea-mews, gulls and divers, flew back to their holes in the cliff, uttering parting screams.
The young woman realised that she must do as her husband advised, and regretfully she said:
"Let us go."
Suddenly the boatswain sprang to his feet, and making an ear-trumpet of his hand, listened intently.
A report, muffled by the distance, was audible from the north.
"A gun!" exclaimed John Block.
CHAPTER X - THE FLAG ON THE PEAK
ALL stood motionless, their hearts tense with excitement, their eyes turned towards the northern horizon, listening intently, scarcely breathing.
In the distance a few more shots rang out, the sound borne to them on the faint breath of the breeze.
"It's a ship passing off the coast!" said Captain Gould at length.
"Yes; those reports can only come from a ship," John Block replied; "when night falls, perhaps we shall see her lights."
"But couldn't those shots have been fired on land?" Jenny suggested.
"On land, Jenny dear?" Fritz exclaimed. "You mean there may be some land near this island?"
"I think it is more likely that there is some ship off there to the northward," Captain Gould said again.
"Why should it have fired the gun?" James asked.
"Yes, why?" Jenny echoed him.
If the second surmise were the right one, it followed that the ship could not be very far from the shore. Perhaps when it was quite dark they would be able to distinguish the flashes from the guns, if they were fired again. They might also see her lights before long. But, since the sound of the guns had come from the north, it was quite possible that the ship would remain invisible, since the sea in that direction could not be seen.
No longer did anyone think of going through the ravine, back to Turtle Bay. Whatever the weather might be, they would all remain where they were until day. Unfortunately, in the event of a ship coming down on the west or east, lack of wood would prevent them from lighting a fire to signal it.
Those distant reports had stirred their hearts to the very depths. They seemed united by them once more to their kind, felt as though this island were now not so utterly isolated.
They would have liked to go at once to the far end of the plateau, and to watch the sea to the northward, whence the cannon shots had come. But the evening was getting on, and night would fall quite soon—a night without moon or stars, darkened by the low clouds that the breeze was chasing to the south. They could not venture among the rocks in darkness. It would be difficult enough by day; it was impossible by night.
So it became necessary to settle themselves for the night where they were, and everyone got busy. After a long search the boatswain discovered a kind of recess, a space between two rocks, where Jenny, Susan, Dolly, and the little boy could lie close to the ground, as there was no sand or sea-weed for them to lie on. They would at least have shelter from the wind if it should freshen, even shelter from the rain if the clouds broke.
The provisions were taken from the bags and all ate. There was food for several days, in any case. And might not all fear of spending a winter in Turtle Bay soon be banished for ever?
Night fell—an endless night it seemed, whose long drawn hours no one could ever forget, except little Bob, who slept in his mother's arms. Utter darkness reigned. From the sea-coast the lights of a ship would have been visible several miles out at sea.
Captain Gould, and most of the others, insisted on remaining afoot until daybreak. Their eyes incessantly wandered over the east and west and south, in the hope of seeing a vessel passing off the island, and not without fears that she might leave it astern, never to return to it. Had they been in Turtle Bay at this moment, they would have lighted a fire upon the end of the promontory. Here, that was impossible.
No light shone out before the return of dawn, no report broke the silence of the night, no ship came in sight of the island.
The men began to wonder whether they had not been mistaken, if they had not taken for the sound of cannon what might only have been the roar of some distant storm.
"No, no," Fritz insisted, "we were not mistaken! It really was a cannon firing out there in the north, a good long way away.''
"I'm sure of it," the boatswain replied.
"But why should they be firing guns?" James Wolston urged.
"Either in salute or in self-defence," Fritz answered.
"Perhaps some savages have landed on the island and made an attack," Frank suggested.
"Anyhow," the boatswain answered, "it wasn't savages who fired those guns."
"So the island would be inhabited by Americans or Europeans?" James enquired.
"Well, to begin with, is it only an island?" Captain Gould replied. "How do we know what is beyond this cliff? Are we perhaps upon some very large island –"
"A very large island in this part of the Pacific?" Fritz rejoined. "Which one? I don't see –"
"In my opinion," John Block remarked, with much good sense, "it is useless to argue about all that. The truth is we don't know whether our island is in the Pacific or the Indian Ocean. Let us have a little patience until dawn, which will break quite soon, and then we will go and see what there is up there to the northward."
"Perhaps everything—perhaps nothing!" said James.
"Well," the boatswain retorted, "it will be something to know which!''
About five o'clock the first glimmer of dawn began to show. Low on the horizon the east grew pale. The weather was very calm, for the wind had dropped towards morning. The clouds which had been chased by the breeze were now replaced by a veil of mist, through which the sun eventually broke. The whole sky gradually cleared. The streak of light drawn sharply across the east grew wider— spread over the line of sky and sea. The glorious sun appeared, throwing long streamers of light over the surface of the waters.
Eagerly all eyes travelled over so much of the ocean as was visible.
But no vessel was to be seen!
At this moment Captain Gould was joined by Jenny, Dolly, and by Susan Wolston, who was holding her child's hand.
The albatross fluttered to and fro, hopped from rock to rock, and sometimes went quite far off to the northward, as if it were pointing out the way.
"It looks as if he were showing us where to go," said Jenny.
"We must follow him!" Dolly exclaimed.
"Not until we have had breakfast," Captain Gould replied. "We may have several hours' marching in front of us, and we must keep up our strength."
They shared the provisions hurriedly, so impatient were they to be off, and before seven o'clock they were moving towards the north.
It was most difficult walking among the rocks. Captain Gould and the boatswain, in advance, pointed out the practicable paths. Then Fritz came helping Jenny, Frank helping Dolly, and James helping Susan and little Bob.
Nowhere did the foot encounter grass or sand. It was all a chaotic accumulation of stones, what might have been a vast field of scattered rocks or moraines. Over it birds were flying, frigate-birds, sea-mews, and sea-swallows, in whose flight the albatross sometimes joined.
They marched for an hour, at the cost of immense fatigue, and had accomplished little more than two miles, steadily up hill. There was no change in the appearance of the nature of the plateau.
It was absolutely necessary to call a halt in order to get a little rest.
Fritz then suggested that he should go on ahead with Captain Gould and John Block. That would spare the others fresh fatigue.
The proposal was unanimously rejected. They would not separate. They all wanted to be there when—or if—the sea became visible in the northward.
The march was resumed about nine o'clock. The mist tempered the heat of the sun. At this season it might have been insupportable on this stony waste, on which the rays fell almost vertically at noon.
While still extending towards the north, the plateau was widening out to east and west, and the sea, which so far had been visible in both these directions, would soon be lost to sight. And still there was not a tree, not a trace of vegetation, nothing but the same sterility and solitude. A few low hills rose here and there ahead.
At eleven o'clock a kind of cone showed its naked peak, towering some three hundred feet above this portion of the plateau.
"We must get to the top of that," said Jenny.
"Yes," Fritz replied; "from there we shall be able to see over a much wider horizon. But it may be a rough climb I''
It probably would be, but so irresistible was the general desire to ascertain the actual situation that no one would have consented to remain behind, however great the fatigue might be. Yet who could tell whether these poor people were not marching to a last disappointment, to the shattering of their last hope?
They resumed their journey towards the peak, which now was about half a mile away. Every step was difficult, and progress was painfully slow among the hundreds of rocks which must be scrambled over or gone round. It was more like a chamois track than a footpath. The
boatswain insisted on carrying little Bob, and his mother gave the child to him. Fritz and Jenny, Frank and Dolly, and James and Susan kept near together, that the men might help the women over the dangerous bits.
It was past two o'clock in the afternoon when the base of the cone was reached. They had taken three hours to cover less than a mile and three quarters since the last halt. But they were obliged to rest again.
The stop was of short duration, and in twenty minutes the climbing began.
It had occurred to Captain Gould to go round the peak, to avoid a tiring climb. But its base was seen to be impassable, and, after all, the height was not great.
At the outset the foot found hold upon a soil where scanty plants were growing, clumps of stonecrops to which the fingers could cling.
