by Jules Verne
Chapter 7
Gideon Spilett was standing motionless on the shore, his arms crossed,gazing over the sea, the horizon of which was lost towards the east ina thick black cloud which was spreading rapidly towards the zenith.The wind was already strong, and increased with the decline of day.The whole sky was of a threatening aspect, and the first symptoms of aviolent storm were clearly visible.
Herbert entered the Chimneys, and Pencroft went towards the reporter.The latter, deeply absorbed, did not see him approach.
"We are going to have a dirty night, Mr. Spilett!" said the sailor:"Petrels delight in wind and rain."
The reporter, turning at the moment, saw Pencroft, and his first wordswere,--
"At what distance from the coast would you say the car was, when thewaves carried off our companion?"
The sailor had not expected this question. He reflected an instant andreplied,--
"Two cables lengths at the most."
"But what is a cable's length?" asked Gideon Spilett.
"About a hundred and twenty fathoms, or six hundred feet."
"Then," said the reporter, "Cyrus Harding must have disappeared twelvehundred feet at the most from the shore?"
"About that," replied Pencroft.
"And his dog also?"
"Also."
"What astonishes me," rejoined the reporter, "while admitting that ourcompanion has perished, is that Top has also met his death, and thatneither the body of the dog nor of his master has been cast on theshore!"
"It is not astonishing, with such a heavy sea," replied the sailor."Besides, it is possible that currents have carried them farther downthe coast."
"Then, it is your opinion that our friend has perished in the waves?"again asked the reporter.
"That is my opinion."
"My own opinion," said Gideon Spilett, "with due deference to yourexperience, Pencroft, is that in the double fact of the absolutedisappearance of Cyrus and Top, living or dead, there is somethingunaccountable and unlikely."
"I wish I could think like you, Mr. Spilett," replied Pencroft;"unhappily, my mind is made up on this point." Having said this, thesailor returned to the Chimneys. A good fire crackled on the hearth.Herbert had just thrown on an armful of dry wood, and the flame cast abright light into the darkest parts of the passage.
Pencroft immediately began to prepare the dinner. It appeared best tointroduce something solid into the bill of fare, for all needed to getup their strength. The strings of couroucous were kept for the next day,but they plucked a couple of grouse, which were soon spitted on a stick,and roasting before a blazing fire.
At seven in the evening Neb had not returned. The prolonged absence ofthe Negro made Pencroft very uneasy. It was to be feared that he had metwith an accident on this unknown land, or that the unhappy fellow hadbeen driven to some act of despair. But Herbert drew very differentconclusions from this absence. According to him, Neb's delay was causedby some new circumstances which had induced him to prolong his search.Also, everything new must be to the advantage of Cyrus Harding. Why hadNeb not returned unless hope still detained him? Perhaps he had foundsome mark, a footstep, a trace which had put him in the right path.Perhaps he was at this moment on a certain track. Perhaps even he wasnear his master.
Thus the lad reasoned. Thus he spoke. His companions let him talk. Thereporter alone approved with a gesture. But what Pencroft thought mostprobable was, that Neb had pushed his researches on the shore fartherthan the day before, and that he had not as yet had time to return.
Herbert, however, agitated by vague presentiments, several timesmanifested an intention to go to meet Neb. But Pencroft assured himthat that would be a useless course, that in the darkness and deplorableweather he could not find any traces of Neb, and that it would be muchbetter to wait. If Neb had not made his appearance by the next day,Pencroft would not hesitate to join him in his search.
Gideon Spilett approved of the sailor's opinion that it was best not todivide, and Herbert was obliged to give up his project; but two largetears fell from his eyes.
The reporter could not refrain from embracing the generous boy.
Bad weather now set in. A furious gale from the southeast passed overthe coast. The sea roared as it beat over the reef. Heavy rain wasdashed by the storm into particles like dust. Ragged masses of vapordrove along the beach, on which the tormented shingles sounded as ifpoured out in cart-loads, while the sand raised by the wind added asit were mineral dust to that which was liquid, and rendered the unitedattack insupportable. Between the river's mouth and the end of thecliff, eddies of wind whirled and gusts from this maelstrom lashed thewater which ran through the narrow valley. The smoke from the fireplacewas also driven back through the opening, filling the passages andrendering them uninhabitable.
Therefore, as the grouse were cooked, Pencroft let the fire die away,and only preserved a few embers buried under the ashes.
At eight o'clock Neb had not appeared, but there was no doubt that thefrightful weather alone hindered his return, and that he must havetaken refuge in some cave, to await the end of the storm or at least thereturn of day. As to going to meet him, or attempting to find him, itwas impossible.
The game constituted the only dish at supper; the meat was excellent,and Pencroft and Herbert, whose long excursion had rendered them veryhungry, devoured it with infinite satisfaction.
Their meal concluded, each retired to the corner in which he had restedthe preceding night, and Herbert was not long in going to sleep near thesailor, who had stretched himself beside the fireplace.
Outside, as the night advanced, the tempest also increased in strength,until it was equal to that which had carried the prisoners from Richmondto this land in the Pacific. The tempests which are frequent during theseasons of the equinox, and which are so prolific in catastrophes, areabove all terrible over this immense ocean, which opposes no obstacle totheir fury. No description can give an idea of the terrific violence ofthe gale as it beat upon the unprotected coast.
Happily the pile of rocks which formed the Chimneys was solid. It wascomposed of enormous blocks of granite, a few of which, insecurelybalanced, seemed to tremble on their foundations, and Pencroft couldfeel rapid quiverings under his head as it rested on the rock. But herepeated to himself, and rightly, that there was nothing to fear, andthat their retreat would not give way. However he heard the noise ofstones torn from the summit of the plateau by the wind, falling down onto the beach. A few even rolled on to the upper part of the Chimneys,or flew off in fragments when they were projected perpendicularly. Twicethe sailor rose and intrenched himself at the opening of the passage, soas to take a look in safety at the outside. But there was nothing to befeared from these showers, which were not considerable, and he returnedto his couch before the fireplace, where the embers glowed beneath theashes.
Notwithstanding the fury of the hurricane, the uproar of the tempest,the thunder, and the tumult, Herbert slept profoundly. Sleep at lasttook possession of Pencroft, whom a seafaring life had habituated toanything. Gideon Spilett alone was kept awake by anxiety. He reproachedhimself with not having accompanied Neb. It was evident that he had notabandoned all hope. The presentiments which had troubled Herbert did notcease to agitate him also. His thoughts were concentrated on Neb. Whyhad Neb not returned? He tossed about on his sandy couch, scarcelygiving a thought to the struggle of the elements. Now and then, hiseyes, heavy with fatigue, closed for an instant, but some sudden thoughtreopened them almost immediately.
Meanwhile the night advanced, and it was perhaps two hours from morning,when Pencroft, then sound asleep, was vigorously shaken.
"What's the matter?" he cried, rousing himself, and collecting his ideaswith the promptitude usual to seamen.
The reporter was leaning over him, and saying,--
"Listen, Pencroft, listen!"
The sailor strained his ears, but could hear no noise beyond thosecaused by the storm.
"It is the wind," said he.
"No," re
plied Gideon Spilett, listening again, "I thought I heard--"
"What?"
"The barking of a dog!"
"A dog!" cried Pencroft, springing up.
"Yes--barking--"
"It's not possible!" replied the sailor. "And besides, how, in theroaring of the storm--"
"Stop--listen--" said the reporter.
Pencroft listened more attentively, and really thought he heard, duringa lull, distant barking.
"Well!" said the reporter, pressing the sailor's hand.
"Yes--yes!" replied Pencroft.
"It is Top! It is Top!" cried Herbert, who had just awoke; and all threerushed towards the opening of the Chimneys. They had great difficulty ingetting out. The wind drove them back. But at last they succeeded, andcould only remain standing by leaning against the rocks. They lookedabout, but could not speak. The darkness was intense. The sea, the sky,the land were all mingled in one black mass. Not a speck of light wasvisible.
The reporter and his companions remained thus for a few minutes,overwhelmed by the wind, drenched by the rain, blinded by the sand.
Then, in a pause of the tumult, they again heard the barking, which theyfound must be at some distance.
It could only be Top! But was he alone or accompanied? He was mostprobably alone, for, if Neb had been with him, he would have madehis way more directly towards the Chimneys. The sailor squeezed thereporter's hand, for he could not make himself heard, in a way whichsignified "Wait!" then he reentered the passage.
An instant after he issued with a lighted fagot, which he threw into thedarkness, whistling shrilly.
It appeared as if this signal had been waited for; the barkingimmediately came nearer, and soon a dog bounded into the passage.Pencroft, Herbert, and Spilett entered after him.
An armful of dry wood was thrown on the embers. The passage was lightedup with a bright flame.
"It is Top!" cried Herbert.
It was indeed Top, a magnificent Anglo-Norman, who derived from thesetwo races crossed the swiftness of foot and the acuteness of smell whichare the preeminent qualities of coursing dogs. It was the dog of theengineer, Cyrus Harding. But he was alone! Neither Neb nor his masteraccompanied him!
How was it that his instinct had guided him straight to the Chimneys,which he did not know? It appeared inexplicable, above all, in themidst of this black night and in such a tempest! But what was still moreinexplicable was, that Top was neither tired, nor exhausted, nor evensoiled with mud or sand!--Herbert had drawn him towards him, and waspatting his head, the dog rubbing his neck against the lad's hands.
"If the dog is found, the master will be found also!" said the reporter.
"God grant it!" responded Herbert. "Let us set off! Top will guide us!"
Pencroft did not make any objection. He felt that Top's arrivalcontradicted his conjectures. "Come along then!" said he.
Pencroft carefully covered the embers on the hearth. He placed a fewpieces of wood among them, so as to keep in the fire until their return.Then, preceded by the dog, who seemed to invite them by short barks tocome with him, and followed by the reporter and the boy, he dashed out,after having put up in his handkerchief the remains of the supper.
The storm was then in all its violence, and perhaps at its height. Not asingle ray of light from the moon pierced through the clouds. To followa straight course was difficult. It was best to rely on Top's instinct.They did so. The reporter and Herbert walked behind the dog, and thesailor brought up the rear. It was impossible to exchange a word. Therain was not very heavy, but the wind was terrific.
However, one circumstance favored the seaman and his two companions. Thewind being southeast, consequently blew on their backs. The clouds ofsand, which otherwise would have been insupportable, from being receivedbehind, did not in consequence impede their progress. In short, theysometimes went faster than they liked, and had some difficulty inkeeping their feet; but hope gave them strength, for it was not atrandom that they made their way along the shore. They had no doubt thatNeb had found his master, and that he had sent them the faithful dog.But was the engineer living, or had Neb only sent for his companionsthat they might render the last duties to the corpse of the unfortunateHarding?
After having passed the precipice, Herbert, the reporter, and Pencroftprudently stepped aside to stop and take breath. The turn of the rockssheltered them from the wind, and they could breathe after this walk orrather run of a quarter of an hour.
They could now hear and reply to each other, and the lad havingpronounced the name of Cyrus Harding, Top gave a few short barks, asmuch as to say that his master was saved.
"Saved, isn't he?" repeated Herbert; "saved, Top?"
And the dog barked in reply.
They once more set out. The tide began to rise, and urged by the wind itthreatened to be unusually high, as it was a spring tide. Great billowsthundered against the reef with such violence that they probably passedentirely over the islet, then quite invisible. The mole no longerprotected the coast, which was directly exposed to the attacks of theopen sea.
As soon as the sailor and his companions left the precipice, the windstruck them again with renewed fury. Though bent under the gale theywalked very quickly, following Top, who did not hesitate as to whatdirection to take.
They ascended towards the north, having on their left an interminableextent of billows, which broke with a deafening noise, and on theirright a dark country, the aspect of which it was impossible to guess.But they felt that it was comparatively flat, for the wind passedcompletely over them, without being driven back as it was when it camein contact with the cliff.
At four o'clock in the morning, they reckoned that they had clearedabout five miles. The clouds were slightly raised, and the wind, thoughless damp, was very sharp and cold. Insufficiently protected by theirclothing, Pencroft, Herbert and Spilett suffered cruelly, but nota complaint escaped their lips. They were determined to follow Top,wherever the intelligent animal wished to lead them.
Towards five o'clock day began to break. At the zenith, where the fogwas less thick, gray shades bordered the clouds; under an opaque belt, aluminous line clearly traced the horizon. The crests of the billows weretipped with a wild light, and the foam regained its whiteness. At thesame time on the left the hilly parts of the coast could be seen, thoughvery indistinctly.
At six o'clock day had broken. The clouds rapidly lifted. The seaman andhis companions were then about six miles from the Chimneys. They werefollowing a very flat shore bounded by a reef of rocks, whose headsscarcely emerged from the sea, for they were in deep water. On the left,the country appeared to be one vast extent of sandy downs, bristlingwith thistles. There was no cliff, and the shore offered no resistanceto the ocean but a chain of irregular hillocks. Here and there grew twoor three trees, inclined towards the west, their branches projecting inthat direction. Quite behind, in the southwest, extended the border ofthe forest.
At this moment, Top became very excited. He ran forward, then returned,and seemed to entreat them to hasten their steps. The dog then left thebeach, and guided by his wonderful instinct, without showing the leasthesitation, went straight in among the downs. They followed him. Thecountry appeared an absolute desert. Not a living creature was to beseen.
The downs, the extent of which was large, were composed of hillocksand even of hills, very irregularly distributed. They resembled aSwitzerland modeled in sand, and only an amazing instinct could havepossibly recognized the way.
Five minutes after having left the beach, the reporter and his twocompanions arrived at a sort of excavation, hollowed out at the back ofa high mound. There Top stopped, and gave a loud, clear bark. Spilett,Herbert, and Pencroft dashed into the cave.
Neb was there, kneeling beside a body extended on a bed of grass.
The body was that of the engineer, Cyrus Harding.
