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Search Search Search Browse menu. Sign in. Hint: character cross-over. View 2 comments. If you love steampunk, you owe it to yourself to read Jules Verne. A very resourceful group of men escape in a hot air balloon, only to be swept off course and land on a mysterious island, where they must supply all their own needs using only what they have on them.
Excellent read. A great read! The best adventure story I have read. The author caught the spirit of the time with this story. I was amazed the writer portrayed American characters in such a positive light. Dec 19, Tarissa rated it really liked it. What do you get when you have a cyclone, a hot air balloon, five men, and a dog? Lost castaways on The Mysterious Island! What a great amount of imagination was poured into this story! With a giant wave of creative thinking splashed upon it, that is.
What remarkable feats of engineering these men concoct with limited tools and resources! The novel works as a sequel of sorts to Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea -- since eventually we catch up with Captain Nemo, and find what has happened with him ever since.
Aug 17, Amy rated it it was amazing Recommends it for: people who like adventure stories, stories about castaways, and stories about mysterious islands. Shelves: adventure , kindle , classic , books-read , favorites. It seems strange that I've never read a Jules Verne book before this one. I'm not sure why I waited so long. I guess I thought that knowing the main ideas of his books were enough? It's not. Civil war in a hot air balloon. They land on a volcanic island about miles from New Zealand, and they make quite a life for themselves.
The island, which they name Lincoln Island in honor of Abraham Lincoln, provides everything they could possibly ne It seems strange that I've never read a Jules Verne book before this one.
The island, which they name Lincoln Island in honor of Abraham Lincoln, provides everything they could possibly need to live a fairly good life. In fact, if they were ever to be rescued from the island, they all plan to come back to the island to live.
The castaways build their home in a cave high inside a rock-faced wall, making holes for windows with a view of the sea. I like to think their multi-roomed cave home looked like this cave in Crimea or this caveman-esque home in Malibu. One of the castaways is an engineer who seems to know how to build anything and make everything from the raw materials of the island Life seems almost too easy except for a brief run-in with some pesky priates.
The animals and plants of the island are a bit strange because they seem to be from various continents. There are even kangaroos. There are not, however, gigantic versions of common animals on the island as suggested by the s movie version of the book. The most mysterious thing on the island is that they seem not to be alone.
Their mysterious benefactor seems to rescue them time and again, and they vacillate between wondering if they're being saved by a god or a man. The revelation of the mystery of the island was surprising.
I'm glad that I didn't read any spoilers so that I was surprised by the island's secrets as much as the castaways are. And, unlike the mysteries of the island in the television series "Lost", this island's mysteries finally mostly make sense in the end. I like that Verne places this book in the "same universe" as some of his earlier works.
Now I feel that I need to read them to fully appreciate and more deeply understand the back story of some parts of the novel. Other than a few places that seem to bog down in the encyclopedic technicalities of how the engineer makes this or that modern convenience item, the book moved a a nice pace.
I read the last half of this paged book much more quickly than the first half, very excited to get back to it each time. In fact, I'm a little sad that it's come to an end, so I'll certainly be picking up some of the tie-in books soon. View all 3 comments. This was a fresh and entertaining read. Published in , it follows the adventures of a group of 5 castaways and a very good dog on a deserted island. I absolutely adored the first part, when they organized themselves with decadent resourcefulness to make the Island more comfortable.
I was less excited by the second more "adventurous" part which is unexpected but all the detailed and ingenuous engineering parts were fascinating. Of course, it seems a bit far-fetched that everything comes s This was a fresh and entertaining read.
Of course, it seems a bit far-fetched that everything comes so easy to them, that everyone almost always agree with each other, and that the island view spoiler [even if you remove Nemo's interventions hide spoiler ] actually already has roughly quite everything they may need to have a pretty cosy life with a little work and a trust-me-I-am-an-ingeneer attitude, but it really does makes the book refreshing.
I have to admit I'm a bit of a snob considering French literature being french myself and I always tend to favor english-speaking ones. But I have to admit that the surrealist Jules Verne is special. His extensive imagination and impressive academic and scientific knowledge makes it quite an interesting read Jan 10, Lauren rated it it was amazing Recommends it for: Anyone who wants to know how to survive a deserted island.
Shelves: survival , action-adventure , comradery , pirates. Jules Verne is a writing god! I had previously read some of his more popular works like "Around the World in 80 Days," and "20, Leagues Under the Sea," and I loved them.
I read those at my local library, and I had recently saved enough money for a nice copy of my own, so I went to the bookstore, but they didn't have any of the books I was looking for. All they had was, "The Mysterious Island," which I had never heard of before, but hey, it was Jules Verne, so I bought it where it laid on my b Jules Verne is a writing god!
All they had was, "The Mysterious Island," which I had never heard of before, but hey, it was Jules Verne, so I bought it where it laid on my bookshelf for a while until I had nothing else to read. I was house-sitting at the time when I started to read it, so no parents or siblings around to bother me to do stuff, I could just sit and read.
It couldn't have been a better situation because I found myself finishing the book in only two sittings. The only reason it was two was because I needed sleep, but otherwise it would've been just one sitting.
This book starts off bleak, with the company feverishly throwing possessions off a hot air balloon. They crash on a seemingly uninhabited island where they slowly but surely make a life for themselves. The company consisted of a sea captain, his young ward, a railroad engineer, his servant, his dog, and a journalist who all add in their own unique talents to make their group prosper on the island.
This isn't a super action packed story that is constantly keeping you on your toes. It's not meant to be that type of story. It's a story of friendship and survival told in the patient but detailed description of Mr. Verne's genius. May 12, David Sarkies rated it it was amazing Recommends it for: People who enjoy adventure stories. Shelves: adventure. An interesting exploration of colonialism 12 May While this is a book written by the man who has earned himself the title of 'the Father of Science-fiction' many of his stories are more like adventure stories than pure science-fiction.
I have written elsewhere about how it is actually difficult to describe a book as being science-fiction simply because the genre seems to overlap with a lot of other styles meaning that science-fiction is more of a setting than a genre in a very lose sense si An interesting exploration of colonialism 12 May While this is a book written by the man who has earned himself the title of 'the Father of Science-fiction' many of his stories are more like adventure stories than pure science-fiction.
I have written elsewhere about how it is actually difficult to describe a book as being science-fiction simply because the genre seems to overlap with a lot of other styles meaning that science-fiction is more of a setting than a genre in a very lose sense since genre is really only composed of prose, drama, and poetry. The story starts in the United States during the Civil War when a group of prisoners in the South steal a hot air balloon and escape.
This initially I found a little odd because the balloon itself would have had to cross the entire continent and then half of the Pacific Ocean to reach its end destination, and in a way it is probably the less believable of Verne's writings but, as I have previously indicated, this story is more of an adventure than anything attempting to be realistic. However, realism is one of Verne's styles, and even though a number of his stories deal with ideas that had not been fully developed at the time submarines, airplanes, interplanetary travel Verne did tend to lean towards the possible as opposed to the fantastic which came to the fore with H.
It is not the balloon trip that is the focus of the story but rather how the castaways managed to survive and thrive on a deserted island in the middle of the Pacific. What originally drew me to this story was how this group managed to turn the island into an industrial paradise with little more than the resources that they have available. However, as it turned out, this island was actually a wealth of resources, and with a little ingenuity and know-how, the characters were able to marshal these resources to their benefit.
Jules Verne actually prided himself on the accuracy of his research. We are told that he used to pour over travelogues and encyclopaedias to try and create the most realistic stories as possible, and even then it was not just these books that he would read but also scientific theories such as the railgun that was designed to launch the capsule to the moon. I noticed that H.
Wells also borrowed the same concept when he wrote his story 'The War of the Worlds'. In that story the Martians used railguns to launch their invasion against Earth. It is difficult to determine how realistic Verne's little society would actually be. Remember that Verne had socialistic tendencies, however his stories never seemed to come out as utopian ideas. The Mysterious Island is far from being a utopia, and its characters are more interested in creating a means of escape than they are in creating a paradise for themselves.
I won't go too far into the ending of the story as I do not want to give away the little plot twists therein. However, I feel that the thing that attracted me to this story was the characters ingenuity, their ability to not so much turn a bad situation around, but rather the resourcefulness of creating a modern world on a deserted island.
I guess this is an idea that had been floating around for a while as we saw the expansion of the British Empire as well as the industrialisation of the American continent.
As the Anglo-American Empire expanded, with its expansion came its technology, though we must remember that this expansion of technology was not necessarily for the native populations but rather the imperial overlords. In Australia, and in America, many of the native populations to relegated to reserves where they could attempt to return to their traditional lifestyles, and that was where integration was not working.
In many cases, while integration was preferred, it was resisted by the native populations. Even then, where they could integrate, there was still quite a lot of discrimination against them. It is the idea of 'White Man's Burden' where the imperial masters attempt to civilise the barbaric races of the world. However, there is none of that on this island. All I could effectively remember was a monkey that they had captured and was trained to be a servant.
In a way this is a typical colonialist attitude of the times. The native inhabitants, particularly in Australia, were considered to be sub-human and treated as such. Since the aboriginal peoples were not considered human, killing them was not murder, and enslaving them was not slavery.
Murder only counted against humans, as did slavery, therefore if they were not human, they could be bought, sold, and killed. Moreso, if they were not classified as human, then the continent would not be classified as being inhabited.
I guess the use of the ape in this novel is the key to the idea of colonialism, as well as the industrialisation of the island.
Building a smelter and a power station is seen in a sense as a key to civilisation, as is clothing the natives and teaching them the English language. I do suspect that Verne did not necessarily agree with many of the attitudes of the time, particularly since he was a socialist, however I am not entirely clear on his political views since most of the books that I have read of his tend to be more in the line of adventure stories. I guess the closest that I have read that is of a political nature would be Paris in the 20th Century which, I must admit, I read while I was in Paris.
Readers also enjoyed. Science Fiction. About Jules Verne. Jules Verne. Jules Gabriel Verne was a French author who pioneered the genre of science-fiction. Verne wrote about space, air, and underwater travel before navigable aircraft and practical submarines were invented, and before any means Jules Gabriel Verne was a French author who pioneered the genre of science-fiction. Verne wrote about space, air, and underwater travel before navigable aircraft and practical submarines were invented, and before any means of space travel had been devised.
He is the second most translated author of all time, behind Agatha Christie. His prominent novels have been made into films. Verne, along with H. Wells, is often referred to as the "Father of Science Fiction". Other books in the series. Capitaine Nemo 2 books. The sailor ascertained that at this time—that is to say, at low tide, when the rising floods did not reach it—it was sweet. This important point established, Herbert looked for some cavity which would serve them as a retreat, but in vain; everywhere the wall appeared smooth, plain, and perpendicular.
Pencroft and Herbert penetrated quite far in among the rocks, by sandy passages in which light was not wanting, for it entered through the openings which were left between the blocks, of which some were only sustained by a miracle of equilibrium; but with the light came also air—a regular corridor-gale—and with the wind the sharp cold from the exterior.
However, the sailor thought that by stopping-up some of the openings with a mixture of stones and sand, the Chimneys could be rendered habitable. It will be so, if we can make a fireplace in the left passage and keep an opening for the smoke. Let us set to work, but first come and get a store of fuel.
I think some branches will be very useful in stopping up these openings, through which the wind shrieks like so many fiends. Herbert and Pencroft left the Chimneys, and, turning the angle, they began to climb the left bank of the river.
The current here was quite rapid, and drifted down some dead wood. The rising tide—and it could already be perceived—must drive it back with force to a considerable distance. The sailor then thought that they could utilize this ebb and flow for the transport of heavy objects. After having walked for a quarter of an hour, the sailor and the boy arrived at the angle which the river made in turning towards the left.
From this point its course was pursued through a forest of magnificent trees. Between these beautiful trees sprang up clusters of firs, whose opaque open parasol boughs spread wide around. Among the long grass, Pencroft felt that his feet were crushing dry branches which crackled like fireworks.
The collection was easily made. It was not even necessary to lop the trees, for enormous quantities of dead wood were lying at their feet; but if fuel was not wanting, the means of transporting it was not yet found. The wood, being very dry, would burn rapidly; it was therefore necessary to carry to the Chimneys a considerable quantity, and the loads of two men would not be sufficient. Herbert remarked this.
If we had a cart or a boat, it would be easy enough. Let us get the raft ready. The sailor, followed by Herbert, directed his steps towards the river. They both carried, each in proportion to his strength, a load of wood bound in fagots. They found on the bank also a great quantity of dead branches in the midst of grass, among which the foot of man had probably never before trod.
Pencroft began directly to make his raft. In a kind of little bay, created by a point of the shore which broke the current, the sailor and the lad placed some good-sized pieces of wood, which they had fastened together with dry creepers.
A raft was thus formed, on which they stacked all they had collected, sufficient, indeed, to have loaded at least twenty men.
In an hour the work was finished, and the raft moored to the bank, awaited the turning of the tide. There were still several hours to be occupied, and with one consent Pencroft and Herbert resolved to gain the upper plateau, so as to have a more extended view of the surrounding country.
Exactly two hundred feet behind the angle formed by the river, the wall, terminated by a fall of rocks, died away in a gentle slope to the edge of the forest. It was a natural staircase. Herbert and the sailor began their ascent; thanks to the vigor of their muscles they reached the summit in a few minutes; and proceeded to the point above the mouth of the river. On attaining it, their first look was cast upon the ocean which not long before they had traversed in such a terrible condition.
They observed, with emotion, all that part to the north of the coast on which the catastrophe had taken place. It was there that Cyrus Harding had disappeared. They looked to see if some portion of their balloon, to which a man might possibly cling, yet existed.
The sea was but one vast watery desert. As to the coast, it was solitary also. Neither the reporter nor Neb could be anywhere seen.
But it was possible that at this time they were both too far away to be perceived. The sailor shook his head sadly. In the meantime he examined the coast with great attention. The rocks which were visible appeared like amphibious monsters reposing in the surf. To the south a sharp point closed the horizon, and it could not be seen if the land was prolonged in that direction, or if it ran southeast and southwest, which would have made this coast a very long peninsula. At the northern extremity of the bay the outline of the shore was continued to a great distance in a wider curve.
There the shore was low, flat, without cliffs, and with great banks of sand, which the tide left uncovered. Pencroft and Herbert then returned towards the west. Their attention was first arrested by the snow-topped mountain which rose at a distance of six or seven miles.
From its first declivities to within two miles of the coast were spread vast masses of wood, relieved by large green patches, caused by the presence of evergreen trees. Then, from the edge of this forest to the shore extended a plain, scattered irregularly with groups of trees. Here and there on the left sparkled through glades the waters of the little river; they could trace its winding course back towards the spurs of the mountain, among which it seemed to spring.
At the point where the sailor had left his raft of wood, it began to run between the two high granite walls; but if on the left bank the wall remained clear and abrupt, on the right bank, on the contrary, it sank gradually, the massive sides changed to isolated rocks, the rocks to stones, the stones to shingle running to the extremity of the point.
But this important question could not yet be answered. A more perfect survey had to be made to settle the point. As to the land itself, island or continent, it appeared fertile, agreeable in its aspect, and varied in its productions.
Pencroft and Herbert examined for some time the country on which they had been cast; but it was difficult to guess after so hasty an inspection what the future had in store for them. They then returned, following the southern crest of the granite platform, bordered by a long fringe of jagged rocks, of the most whimsical shapes. Some hundreds of birds lived there nestled in the holes of the stone; Herbert, jumping over the rocks, startled a whole flock of these winged creatures. I recognize them by the double band of black on the wing, by the white tail, and by their slate-colored plumage.
But if the rock-pigeon is good to eat, its eggs must be excellent, and we will soon see how many they may have left in their nests! Pencroft and Herbert attentively examined the cavities in the granite, and they really found eggs in some of the hollows.
When they arrived there, it was an hour after midday. The tide had already turned. They must now avail themselves of the ebb to take the wood to the mouth. Pencroft did not intend to let the raft go away in the current without guidance, neither did he mean to embark on it himself to steer it.
But a sailor is never at a loss when there is a question of cables or ropes, and Pencroft rapidly twisted a cord, a few fathoms long, made of dry creepers. This vegetable cable was fastened to the after-part of the raft, and the sailor held it in his hand while Herbert, pushing off the raft with a long pole, kept it in the current.
This succeeded capitally. The enormous load of wood drifted down the current. Sand, stones, twisted branches, wet clay, closed up the galleries open to the south winds. One narrow and winding opening at the side was kept, to lead out the smoke and to make the fire draw. The cave was thus divided into three or four rooms, if such dark dens with which a donkey would scarcely have been contented deserved the name.
But they were dry, and there was space to stand upright, at least in the principal room, which occupied the center. The floor was covered with fine sand, and taking all in all they were well pleased with it for want of a better. Their work was soon done, and Pencroft declared himself very well satisfied. They will find a good enough shelter.
They now had only to make a fireplace and to prepare the supper—an easy task. Large flat stones were placed on the ground at the opening of the narrow passage which had been kept.
This, if the smoke did not take the heat out with it, would be enough to maintain an equal temperature inside. Their wood was stowed away in one of the rooms, and the sailor laid in the fireplace some logs and brushwood. The seaman was busy with this, when Herbert asked him if he had any matches.
I must say I prefer matches. By the bye, where are my matches? Pencroft searched in his waistcoat for the box, which was always there, for he was a confirmed smoker. He could not find it; he rummaged the pockets of his trousers, but, to his horror, he could nowhere discover the box. Surely, Herbert, you must have something—a tinder-box—anything that can possibly make fire! The sailor rushed out, followed by the boy.
The box was of copper, and therefore would have been easily seen. I would rather even have lost my pipe! Confound the box! Where can it be? It was scarcely probable that they would find the box, which the waves had rolled about among the pebbles, at high tide, but it was as well to try. Herbert and Pencroft walked rapidly to the point where they had landed the day before, about two hundred feet from the cave.
They hunted there, among the shingle, in the clefts of the rocks, but found nothing. If the box had fallen at this place it must have been swept away by the waves.
As the sea went down, they searched every little crevice with no result. It was a grave loss in their circumstances, and for the time irreparable. Pencroft could not hide his vexation; he looked very anxious, but said not a word. Herbert tried to console him by observing, that if they had found the matches, they would, very likely, have been wetted by the sea and useless. Spilett will not be without them.
Spilett would rather keep his note-book than his match-box. Herbert did not reply. The loss of the box was certainly to be regretted, but the boy was still sure of procuring fire in some way or other.
Pencroft, more experienced, did not think so, although he was not a man to trouble himself about a small or great grievance. At any rate, there was only one thing to be done—to await the return of Neb and the reporter; but they must give up the feast of hard eggs which they had meant to prepare, and a meal of raw flesh was not an agreeable prospect either for themselves or for the others.
Before returning to the cave, the sailor and Herbert, in the event of fire being positively unattainable, collected some more shell-fish, and then silently retraced their steps to their dwelling. Pencroft, his eyes fixed on the ground, still looked for his box. He even climbed up the left bank of the river from its mouth to the angle where the raft had been moored.
He returned to the plateau, went over it in every direction, searched among the high grass on the border of the forest, all in vain. It was five in the evening when he and Herbert re-entered the cave.
It is useless to say that the darkest corners of the passages were ransacked before they were obliged to give it up in despair. They were returning alone! The reporter, on his arrival, sat down on a rock, without saying anything.
Exhausted with fatigue, dying of hunger, he had not strength to utter a word. As to Neb, his red eyes showed how he had cried, and the tears which he could not restrain told too clearly that he had lost all hope.
The reporter recounted all that they had done in their attempt to recover Cyrus Harding. He and Neb had surveyed the coast for a distance of eight miles and consequently much beyond the place where the balloon had fallen the last time but one, a fall which was followed by the disappearance of the engineer and the dog Top. The shore was solitary; not a vestige of a mark. Not even a pebble recently displaced; not a trace on the sand; not a human footstep on all that part of the beach.
It was clear that that portion of the shore had never been visited by a human being. The sea was as deserted as the land, and it was there, a few hundred feet from the coast, that the engineer must have found a tomb. It might happen to any one else, but never to him! He could get out of anything! I can do no more! God will give him back to us! But in the meantime you are hungry, and you must eat something.
So saying, he offered the poor Negro a few handfuls of shell-fish, which was indeed wretched and insufficient food. Neb had not eaten anything for several hours, but he refused them. He could not, would not live without his master. As to Gideon Spilett, he devoured the shell-fish, then he laid himself down on the sand, at the foot of a rock.
He was very weak, but calm. Night is advancing. Come and rest! To-morrow we will search farther. The reporter got up, and guided by the boy went towards the cave. On the way, Pencroft asked him in the most natural tone, if by chance he happened to have a match or two.
The four castaways remained motionless, looking uneasily at each other. He seized it with his fingers through the stuff, but he could not get it out. If this was a match and a single one, it was of great importance not to rub off the phosphorus.
It was unused. This small piece of wood, of which so many in an inhabited country are wasted with indifference and are of no value, must here be used with the greatest caution. Pencroft took the piece of paper which the reporter held out to him, and knelt down before the fireplace. Some handfuls of grass, leaves, and dry moss were placed under the fagots and disposed in such a way that the air could easily circulate, and the dry wood would rapidly catch fire.
Pencroft then twisted the piece of paper into the shape of a cone, as smokers do in a high wind, and poked it in among the moss. Taking a small, rough stone, he wiped it carefully, and with a beating heart, holding his breath, he gently rubbed the match. The first attempt did not produce any effect. Pencroft had not struck hard enough, fearing to rub off the phosphorus. Certainly the boy had never in all his life been so nervous.
Prometheus going to steal the fire from heaven could not have been more anxious. He did not hesitate, however, but struck the match directly. A little spluttering was heard and a tiny blue flame sprang up, making a choking smoke. Herbert quickly turned the match so as to augment the flame, and then slipped it into the paper cone, which in a few seconds too caught fire, and then the moss.
A minute later the dry wood crackled and a cheerful flame, assisted by the vigorous blowing of the sailor, sprang up in the midst of the darkness. The flat stones made a capital fireplace. The smoke went quite easily out at the narrow passage, the chimney drew, and an agreeable warmth was not long in being felt. They must now take great care not to let the fire go out, and always to keep some embers alight.
It only needed care and attention, as they had plenty of wood and could renew their store at any time. Two dozen eggs were brought by Herbert. The reporter leaning up in a corner, watched these preparations without saying anything.
A threefold thought weighed on his mind. Was Cyrus still alive? If he was alive, where was he? If he had survived from his fall, how was it that he had not found some means of making known his existence?
As to Neb, he was roaming about the shore. He was like a body without a soul. Pencroft knew fifty ways of cooking eggs, but this time he had no choice, and was obliged to content himself with roasting them under the hot cinders. In a few minutes the cooking was done, and the seaman invited the reporter to take his share of the supper.
Such was the first repast of the castaways on this unknown coast. If the five prisoners who escaped from Richmond had been all there, under the piled-up rocks, before this clear, crackling fire on the dry sand, what thanksgiving must they have rendered to Heaven! But the most ingenious, the most learned, he who was their unquestioned chief, Cyrus Harding, was, alas! Thus passed the 25th of March.
Night had come on. Outside could be heard the howling of the wind and the monotonous sound of the surf breaking on the shore. The waves rolled the shingle backwards and forwards with a deafening noise. The reporter retired into a dark corner after having shortly noted down the occurrences of the day; the first appearance of this new land, the loss of their leader, the exploration of the coast, the incident of the matches, etc. Herbert went to sleep directly.
As to the sailor, he passed the night with one eye on the fire, on which he did not spare fuel. But one of the castaways did not sleep in the cave. The inconsolable, despairing Neb, notwithstanding all that his companions could say to induce him to take some rest, wandered all night long on the shore calling on his master. The inventory of the articles possessed by these castaways from the clouds, thrown upon a coast which appeared to be uninhabited, was soon made out.
They had nothing, save the clothes which they were wearing at the time of the catastrophe. We must mention, however, a note-book and a watch which Gideon Spilett had kept, doubtless by inadvertence, not a weapon, not a tool, not even a pocket-knife; for while in the car they had thrown out everything to lighten the balloon. The imaginary heroes of Daniel Defoe or of Wyss, as well as Selkirk and Raynal shipwrecked on Juan Fernandez and on the archipelago of the Aucklands, were never in such absolute destitution.
Either they had abundant resources from their stranded vessels, in grain, cattle, tools, ammunition, or else some things were thrown up on the coast which supplied them with all the first necessities of life. But here, not any instrument whatever, not a utensil. From nothing they must supply themselves with everything. And yet, if Cyrus Harding had been with them, if the engineer could have brought his practical science, his inventive mind to bear on their situation, perhaps all hope would not have been lost.
The castaways could expect nothing but from themselves and from that Providence which never abandons those whose faith is sincere. But ought they to establish themselves on this part of the coast, without trying to know to what continent it belonged, if it was inhabited, or if they were on the shore of a desert island?
It was an important question, and should be solved with the shortest possible delay. From its answer they would know what measures to take. They must, in fact, prepare some provisions and procure more strengthening food than eggs and molluscs. The explorers, before undertaking new fatigues, must first of all recruit their strength.
The Chimneys offered a retreat sufficient for the present. The fire was lighted, and it was easy to preserve some embers. There were plenty of shell-fish and eggs among the rocks and on the beach. It would be easy to kill a few of the pigeons which were flying by hundreds about the summit of the plateau, either with sticks or stones. Perhaps the trees of the neighboring forest would supply them with eatable fruit. Lastly, the sweet water was there. It was accordingly settled that for a few days they would remain at the Chimneys so as to prepare themselves for an expedition, either along the shore or into the interior of the country.
This plan suited Neb particularly. As obstinate in his ideas as in his presentiments, he was in no haste to abandon this part of the coast, the scene of the catastrophe.
He did not, he would not believe in the loss of Cyrus Harding. No, it did not seem to him possible that such a man had ended in this vulgar fashion, carried away by a wave, drowned in the floods, a few hundred feet from a shore. As long as the waves had not cast up the body of the engineer, as long as he, Neb, had not seen with his eyes, touched with his hands the corpse of his master, he would not believe in his death!
And this idea rooted itself deeper than ever in his determined heart. An illusion perhaps, but still an illusion to be respected, and one which the sailor did not wish to destroy. As for him, he hoped no longer, but there was no use in arguing with Neb. He was like the dog who will not leave the place where his master is buried, and his grief was such that most probably he would not survive him.
This same morning, the 26th of March, at daybreak, Neb had set out on the shore in a northerly direction, and he had returned to the spot where the sea, no doubt, had closed over the unfortunate Harding.
Herbert had found some salt deposited by evaporation in the hollows of the rocks, and this mineral was very welcome. The repast ended, Pencroft asked the reporter if he wished to accompany Herbert and himself to the forest, where they were going to try to hunt. But on consideration, it was thought necessary that someone should remain to keep in the fire, and to be at hand in the highly improbable event of Neb requiring aid. The reporter accordingly remained behind. The sailor thought it very sensible advice.
Only it had the inconvenience of necessitating the sacrifice of a piece of handkerchief. This inflammable material was placed in the central chamber at the bottom of a little cavity in the rock, sheltered from all wind and damp. The weather was threatening and the breeze blew from the southeast. Herbert and Pencroft turned the angle of the Chimneys, not without having cast a look at the smoke which, just at that place, curled round a point of rock: they ascended the left bank of the river.
Arrived at the forest, Pencroft broke from the first tree two stout branches which he transformed into clubs, the ends of which Herbert rubbed smooth on a rock. The two hunters now advanced among the long grass, following the bank. From the turning which directed its course to the southwest, the river narrowed gradually and the channel lay between high banks, over which the trees formed a double arch. Pencroft, lest they should lose themselves, resolved to follow the course of the stream, which would always lead them back to the point from which they started.
But the bank was not without some obstacles: here, the flexible branches of the trees bent level with the current; there, creepers and thorns which they had to break down with their sticks. Herbert often glided among the broken stumps with the agility of a young cat, and disappeared in the underwood.
But Pencroft called him back directly, begging him not to wander away. Meanwhile, the sailor attentively observed the disposition and nature of the surrounding country.
On the left bank, the ground, which was flat and marshy, rose imperceptibly towards the interior. It looked there like a network of liquid threads which doubtless reached the river by some underground drain. Sometimes a stream ran through the underwood, which they crossed without difficulty. The opposite shore appeared to be more uneven, and the valley of which the river occupied the bottom was more clearly visible.
The hill, covered with trees disposed in terraces, intercepted the view. On the right bank walking would have been difficult, for the declivities fell suddenly, and the trees bending over the water were only sustained by the strength of their roots. It is needless to add that this forest, as well as the coast already surveyed, was destitute of any sign of human life. Pencroft only saw traces of quadrupeds, fresh footprints of animals, of which he could not recognize the species.
On this they might probably congratulate themselves, for on any land in the middle of the Pacific the presence of man was perhaps more to be feared than desired. Herbert and Pencroft speaking little, for the difficulties of the way were great, advanced very slowly, and after walking for an hour they had scarcely gone more than a mile. As yet the hunt had not been successful. However, some birds sang and fluttered in the foliage, and appeared very timid, as if man had inspired them with an instinctive fear.
Among others, Herbert described, in a marshy part of the forest, a bird with a long pointed beak, closely resembling the king-fisher, but its plumage was not fine, though of a metallic brilliancy. Just then, a stone cleverly thrown by the boy, struck the creature on the wing, but the blow did not disable it, and the jacamar ran off and disappeared in an instant. We shall catch it another day!
As the hunters advanced, the trees were found to be more scattered, many being magnificent, but none bore eatable fruit. Pencroft searched in vain for some of those precious palm-trees which are employed in so many ways in domestic life, and which have been found as far as the fortieth parallel in the Northern Hemisphere, and to the thirty-fifth only in the Southern Hemisphere.
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