Jules Verne - The Mysterious Island

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The Mysterious Island

by Jules Verne 1874

PART 1 - DROPPED FROM THE CLOUDS

Chapter 1

"Are we rising again?" "No. On the contrary." "Are we descending?" "Worse than that, captain! we are falling!" "For

Heaven's sake heave out the ballast!" "There! the last sack is empty!" "Does the balloon rise?" "No!" "I hear a noise

like the dashing of waves. The sea is below the car! It cannot be more than 500 feet from us!" "Overboard with every

weight! ...everything!"

Such were the loud and startling words which resounded through the air, above the vast watery desert of the Pacific,

about four o'clock in the evening of the 23rd of March, 1865.

Few can possibly have forgotten the terrible storm from the northeast, in the middle of the equinox of that year. The

tempest raged without intermission from the 18th to the 26th of March. Its ravages were terrible in America, Europe,

and Asia, covering a distance of eighteen hundred miles, and extending obliquely to the equator from the thirty-fifth

north parallel to the fortieth south parallel. Towns were overthrown, forests uprooted, coasts devastated by the

mountains of water which were precipitated on them, vessels cast on the shore, which the published accounts numbered

by hundreds, whole districts leveled by waterspouts which destroyed everything they passed over, several thousand

people crushed on land or drowned at sea; such were the traces of its fury, left by this devastating tempest. It surpassed

in disasters those which so frightfully ravaged Havana and Guadalupe, one on the 25th of October, 1810, the other on

the 26th of July, 1825.

But while so many catastrophes were taking place on land and at sea, a drama not less exciting was being enacted in the

agitated air.

In fact, a balloon, as a ball might be carried on the summit of a waterspout, had been taken into the circling movement

of a column of air and had traversed space at the rate of ninety miles an hour, turning round and round as if seized by

some aerial maelstrom.

Beneath the lower point of the balloon swung a car, containing five passengers, scarcely visible in the midst of the thick

vapor mingled with spray which hung over the surface of the ocean.

Whence, it may be asked, had come that plaything of the tempest? From what part of the world did it rise? It surely

could not have started during the storm. But the storm had raged five days already, and the first symptoms were

manifested on the 18th. It cannot be doubted that the balloon came from a great distance, for it could not have traveled

less than two thousand miles in twenty-four hours.

At any rate the passengers, destitute of all marks for their guidance, could not have possessed the means of reckoning

the route traversed since their departure. It was a remarkable fact that, although in the very midst of the furious tempest,

they did not suffer from it. They were thrown about and whirled round and round without feeling the rotation in the

slightest degree, or being sensible that they were removed from a horizontal position.

Their eyes could not pierce through the thick mist which had gathered beneath the car. Dark vapor was all around them.

Such was the density of the atmosphere that they could not be certain whether it was day or night. No reflection of

light, no sound from inhabited land, no roaring of the ocean could have reached them, through the obscurity, while

suspended in those elevated zones. Their rapid descent alone had informed them of the dangers which they ran from the

waves. However, the balloon, lightened of heavy articles, such as ammunition, arms, and provisions, had risen into the

higher layers of the atmosphere, to a height of 4,500 feet. The voyagers, after having discovered that the sea extended

beneath them, and thinking the dangers above less dreadful than those below, did not hesitate to throw overboard even

their most useful articles, while they endeavored to lose no more of that fluid, the life of their enterprise, which

sustained them above the abyss.

The night passed in the midst of alarms which would have been death to less energetic souls. Again the day appeared

and with it the tempest began to moderate. From the beginning of that day, the 24th of March, it showed symptoms of

abating. At dawn, some of the lighter clouds had risen into the more lofty regions of the air. In a few hours the wind

had changed from a hurricane to a fresh breeze, that is to say, the rate of the transit of the atmospheric layers was

diminished by half. It was still what sailors call "a close-reefed topsail breeze," but the commotion in the elements had

none the less considerably diminished.

Towards eleven o'clock, the lower region of the air was sensibly clearer. The atmosphere threw off that chilly dampness

which is felt after the passage of a great meteor. The storm did not seem to have gone farther to the west. It appeared to

have exhausted itself. Could it have passed away in electric sheets, as is sometimes the case with regard to the typhoons

of the Indian Ocean?

But at the same time, it was also evident that the balloon was again slowly descending with a regular movement. It

appeared as if it were, little by little, collapsing, and that its case was lengthening and extending, passing from a

spherical to an oval form. Towards midday the balloon was hovering above the sea at a height of only 2,000 feet. It

contained 50,000 cubic feet of gas, and, thanks to its capacity, it could maintain itself a long time in the air, although it

should reach a great altitude or might be thrown into a horizontal position.

Perceiving their danger, the passengers cast away the last articles which still weighed down the car, the few provisions

they had kept, everything, even to their pocket-knives, and one of them, having hoisted himself on to the circles which

united the cords of the net, tried to secure more firmly the lower point of the balloon.

It was, however, evident to the voyagers that the gas was failing, and that the balloon could no longer be sustained in

the higher regions. They must infallibly perish!

There was not a continent, nor even an island, visible beneath them. The watery expanse did not present a single speck

of land, not a solid surface upon which their anchor could hold.

It was the open sea, whose waves were still dashing with tremendous violence! It was the ocean, without any visible

limits, even for those whose gaze, from their commanding position, extended over a radius of forty miles. The vast

liquid plain, lashed without mercy by the storm, appeared as if covered with herds of furious chargers, whose white and

disheveled crests were streaming in the wind. No land was in sight, not a solitary ship could be seen. It was necessary

at any cost to arrest their downward course, and to prevent the balloon from being engulfed in the waves. The voyagers

directed all their energies to this urgent work. But, notwithstanding their efforts, the balloon still fell, and at the same

time shifted with the greatest rapidity, following the direction of the wind, that is to say, from the northeast to the

southwest.

Frightful indeed was the situation of these unfortunate men. They were evidently no longer masters of the machine. All

their attempts were useless. The case of the balloon collapsed more and more. The gas escaped without any possibility

of retaining it. Their descent was visibly accelerated, and soon after midday the car hung within 600 feet of the ocean.

It was impossible to prevent the escape of gas, which rushed through a large rent in the silk. By lightening the car of all

the articles which it contained, the passengers had been able to prolong their suspension in the air for a few hours. But

the inevitable catastrophe could only be retarded, and if land did not appear before night, voyagers, car, and balloon

must to a certainty vanish beneath the waves.

They now resorted to the only remaining expedient. They were truly dauntless men, who knew how to look death in the

face. Not a single murmur escaped from their lips. They were determined to struggle to the last minute, to do anything

to retard their fall. The car was only a sort of willow basket, unable to float, and there was not the slightest possibility

of maintaining it on the surface of the sea.

Two more hours passed and the balloon was scarcely 400 feet above the water.

At that moment a loud voice, the voice of a man whose heart was inaccessible to fear, was heard. To this voice

responded others not less determined. "Is everything thrown out?" "No, here are still 2,000 dollars in gold." A heavy

bag immediately plunged into the sea. "Does the balloon rise?" "A little, but it will not be long before it falls again."

"What still remains to be thrown out?" "Nothing." "Yes! the car!" "Let us catch hold of the net, and into the sea with

the car."

This was, in fact, the last and only mode of lightening the balloon. The ropes which held the car were cut, and the

balloon, after its fall, mounted 2,000 feet. The five voyagers had hoisted themselves into the net, and clung to the

meshes, gazing at the abyss.

The delicate sensibility of balloons is well known. It is sufficient to throw out the lightest article to produce a difference

in its vertical position. The apparatus in the air is like a balance of mathematical precision. It can be thus easily

understood that when it is lightened of any considerable weight its movement will be impetuous and sudden. So it

happened on this occasion. But after being suspended for an instant aloft, the balloon began to redescend, the gas

escaping by the rent which it was impossible to repair.

The men had done all that men could do. No human efforts could save them now.

They must trust to the mercy of Him who rules the elements.

At four o'clock the balloon was only 500 feet above the surface of the water.

A loud barking was heard. A dog accompanied the voyagers, and was held pressed close to his master in the meshes of

the net.

"Top has seen something," cried one of the men. Then immediately a loud voice shouted,--

"Land! land!" The balloon, which the wind still drove towards the southwest, had since daybreak gone a considerable

distance, which might be reckoned by hundreds of miles, and a tolerably high land had, in fact, appeared in that

direction. But this land was still thirty miles off. It would not take less than an hour to get to it, and then there was the

chance of falling to leeward.

An hour! Might not the balloon before that be emptied of all the fluid it yet retained?

Such was the terrible question! The voyagers could distinctly see that solid spot which they must reach at any cost.

They were ignorant of what it was, whether an island or a continent, for they did not know to what part of the world the

hurricane had driven them. But they must reach this land, whether inhabited or desolate, whether hospitable or not.

It was evident that the balloon could no longer support itself! Several times already had the crests of the enormous

billows licked the bottom of the net, making it still heavier, and the balloon only half rose, like a bird with a wounded

wing. Half an hour later the land was not more than a mile off, but the balloon, exhausted, flabby, hanging in great

folds, had gas in its upper part alone. The voyagers, clinging to the net, were still too heavy for it, and soon, half

plunged into the sea, they were beaten by the furious waves. The balloon-case bulged out again, and the wind, taking it,

drove it along like a vessel. Might it not possibly thus reach the land?

But, when only two fathoms off, terrible cries resounded from four pairs of lungs at once. The balloon, which had

appeared as if it would never again rise, suddenly made an unexpected bound, after having been struck by a tremendous

sea. As if it had been at that instant relieved of a new part of its weight, it mounted to a height of 1,500 feet, and here it

met a current of wind, which instead of taking it directly to the coast, carried it in a nearly parallel direction.

At last, two minutes later, it reproached obliquely, and finally fell on a sandy beach, out of the reach of the waves.

The voyagers, aiding each other, managed to disengage themselves from the meshes of the net. The balloon, relieved of

their weight, was taken by the wind, and like a wounded bird which revives for an instant, disappeared into space.

But the car had contained five passengers, with a dog, and the balloon only left four on the shore.

The missing person had evidently been swept off by the sea, which had just struck the net, and it was owing to this

circumstance that the lightened balloon rose the last time, and then soon after reached the land. Scarcely had the four

castaways set foot on firm ground, than they all, thinking of the absent one, simultaneously exclaimed, "Perhaps he will

try to swim to land! Let us save him! let us save him!"

Chapter 2

Those whom the hurricane had just thrown on this coast were neither aeronauts by profession nor amateurs. They were

prisoners of war whose boldness had induced them to escape in this extraordinary manner.

A hundred times they had almost perished! A hundred times had they almost fallen from their torn balloon into the

depths of the ocean. But Heaven had reserved them for a strange destiny, and after having, on the 20th of March,

escaped from Richmond, besieged by the troops of General Ulysses Grant, they found themselves seven thousand miles

from the capital of Virginia, which was the principal stronghold of the South, during the terrible War of Secession.

Their aerial voyage had lasted five days.

The curious circumstances which led to the escape of the prisoners were as follows:

That same year, in the month of February, 1865, in one of the coups de main by which General Grant attempted,

though in vain, to possess himself of Richmond, several of his officers fell into the power of the enemy and were

detained in the town. One of the most distinguished was Captain Cyrus Harding. He was a native of Massachusetts, a

first-class engineer, to whom the government had confided, during the war, the direction of the railways, which were so

important at that time. A true Northerner, thin, bony, lean, about forty-five years of age; his close-cut hair and his

beard, of which he only kept a thick mustache, were already getting gray. He had one-of those finely-developed heads

which appear made to be struck on a medal, piercing eyes, a serious mouth, the physiognomy of a clever man of the

military school. He was one of those engineers who began by handling the hammer and pickaxe, like generals who first

act as common soldiers. Besides mental power, he also possessed great manual dexterity. His muscles exhibited

remarkable proofs of tenacity. A man of action as well as a man of thought, all he did was without effort to one of his

vigorous and sanguine temperament. Learned, clear-headed, and practical, he fulfilled in all emergencies those three

conditions which united ought to insure human success--activity of mind and body, impetuous wishes, and powerful

will. He might have taken for his motto that of William of Orange in the 17th century: "I can undertake and persevere

even without hope of success." Cyrus Harding was courage personified. He had been in all the battles of that war. After

having begun as a volunteer at Illinois, under Ulysses Grant, he fought at Paducah, Belmont, Pittsburg Landing, at the

siege of Corinth, Port Gibson, Black River, Chattanooga, the Wilderness, on the Potomac, everywhere and valiantly, a

soldier worthy of the general who said, "I never count my dead!" And hundreds of times Captain Harding had almost

been among those who were not counted by the terrible Grant; but in these combats where he never spared himself,

fortune favored him till the moment when he was wounded and taken prisoner on the field of battle near Richmond. At

the same time and on the same day another important personage fell into the hands of the Southerners. This was no

other than Gideon Spilen, a reporter for the New York Herald, who had been ordered to follow the changes of the war

in the midst of the Northern armies.

Gideon Spilett was one of that race of indomitable English or American chroniclers, like Stanley and others, who stop

at nothing to obtain exact information, and transmit it to their journal in the shortest possible time. The newspapers of

the Union, such as the New York Herald, are genuine powers, and their reporters are men to be reckoned with. Gideon

Spilett ranked among the first of those reporters: a man of great merit, energetic, prompt and ready for anything, full of

ideas, having traveled over the whole world, soldier and artist, enthusiastic in council, resolute in action, caring neither

for trouble, fatigue, nor danger, when in pursuit of information, for himself first, and then for his journal, a perfect

treasury of knowledge on all sorts of curious subjects, of the unpublished, of the unknown, and of the impossible. He

was one of those intrepid observers who write under fire, "reporting" among bullets, and to whom every danger is

welcome.

He also had been in all the battles, in the first rank, revolver in one hand, note-book in the other; grape-shot never made

his pencil tremble. He did not fatigue the wires with incessant telegrams, like those who speak when they have nothing

to say, but each of his notes, short, decisive, and clear, threw light on some important point. Besides, he was not

wanting in humor. It was he who, after the affair of the Black River, determined at any cost to keep his place at the

wicket of the telegraph office, and after having announced to his journal the result of the battle, telegraphed for two

hours the first chapters of the Bible. It cost the New York Herald two thousand dollars, but the New York Herald

published the first intelligence.

Gideon Spilett was tall. He was rather more than forty years of age. Light whiskers bordering on red surrounded his

face. His eye was steady, lively, rapid in its changes. It was the eye of a man accustomed to take in at a glance all the

details of a scene. Well built, he was inured to all climates, like a bar of steel hardened in cold water.

For ten years Gideon Spilett had been the reporter of the New York Herald, which he enriched by his letters and

drawings, for he was as skilful in the use of the pencil as of the pen. When be was captured, he was in the act of making

a description and sketch of the battle. The last words in his note-book were these: "A Southern rifleman has just taken

aim at me, but--" The Southerner notwithstanding missed Gideon Spilett, who, with his usual fortune, came out of this

affair without a scratch.

Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett, who did not know each other except by reputation, had both been carried to

Richmond. The engineer's wounds rapidly healed, and it was during his convalescence that he made acquaintance with

the reporter. The two men then learned to appreciate each other. Soon their common aim had but one object, that of

escaping, rejoining Grant's army, and fighting together in the ranks of the Federals.

The two Americans had from the first determined to seize every chance; but although they were allowed to wander at

liberty in the town, Richmond was so strictly guarded, that escape appeared impossible. In the meanwhile Captain

Harding was rejoined by a servant who was devoted to him in life and in death. This intrepid fellow was a Negro born

on the engineer's estate, of a slave father and mother, but to whom Cyrus, who was an Abolitionist from conviction and

heart, had long since given his freedom. The once slave, though free, would not leave his master. He would have died

for him. He was a man of about thirty, vigorous, active, clever, intelligent, gentle, and calm, sometimes naive, always

merry, obliging, and honest. His name was Nebuchadnezzar, but he only answered to the familiar abbreviation of Neb.

When Neb heard that his master had been made prisoner, he left Massachusetts without hesitating an instant, arrived

before Richmond, and by dint of stratagem and shrewdness, after having risked his life twenty times over, managed to

penetrate into the besieged town. The pleasure of Harding on seeing his servant, and the joy of Neb at finding his

master, can scarcely be described.

But though Neb had been able to make his way into Richmond, it was quite another thing to get out again, for the

Northern prisoners were very strictly watched. Some extraordinary opportunity was needed to make the attempt with

any chance of success, and this opportunity not only did not present itself, but was very difficult to find.

Meanwhile Grant continued his energetic operations. The victory of Petersburg had been very dearly bought. His

forces, united to those of Butler, had as yet been unsuccessful before Richmond, and nothing gave the prisoners any

hope of a speedy deliverance.

The reporter, to whom his tedious captivity did not offer a single incident worthy of note, could stand it no longer. His

usually active mind was occupied with one sole thought--how he might get out of Richmond at any cost. Several times

had he even made the attempt, but was stopped by some insurmountable obstacle. However, the siege continued; and if

the prisoners were anxious to escape and join Grant's army, certain of the besieged were no less anxious to join the

Southern forces. Among them was one Jonathan Forster, a determined Southerner. The truth was, that if the prisoners

of the Secessionists could not leave the town, neither could the Secessionists themselves while the Northern army

invested it. The Governor of Richmond for a long time had been unable to communicate with General Lee, and he very

much wished to make known to him the situation of the town, so as to hasten the march of the army to their relief. Thus

Jonathan Forster accordingly conceived the idea of rising in a balloon, so as to pass over the besieging lines, and in that

way reach the Secessionist camp.

The Governor authorized the attempt. A balloon was manufactured and placed at the disposal of Forster, who was to be

accompanied by five other persons. They were furnished with arms in case they might have to defend themselves when

they alighted, and provisions in the event of their aerial voyage being prolonged.

The departure of the balloon was fixed for the 18th of March. It should be effected during the night, with a northwest

wind of moderate force, and the aeronauts calculated that they would reach General Lee's camp in a few hours.

But this northwest wind was not a simple breeze. From the 18th it was evident that it was changing to a hurricane. The

tempest soon became such that Forster's departure was deferred, for it was impossible to risk the balloon and those

whom it carried in the midst of the furious elements.

The balloon, inflated on the great square of Richmond, was ready to depart on the first abatement of the wind, and, as

may be supposed, the impatience among the besieged to see the storm moderate was very great.

The 18th, the 19th of March passed without any alteration in the weather. There was even great difficulty in keeping

the balloon fastened to the ground, as the squalls dashed it furiously about.

The night of the 19th passed, but the next morning the storm blew with redoubled force. The departure of the balloon

was impossible.

On that day the engineer, Cyrus Harding, was accosted in one of the streets of Richmond by a person whom he did not

in the least know. This was a sailor named Pencroft, a man of about thirty-five or forty years of age, strongly built, very

sunburnt, and possessed of a pair of bright sparkling eyes and a remarkably good physiognomy. Pencroft was an

American from the North, who had sailed all the ocean over, and who had gone through every possible and almost

impossible adventure that a being with two feet and no wings would encounter. It is needless to say that he was a bold,

dashing fellow, ready to dare anything and was astonished at nothing. Pencroft at the beginning of the year had gone to

Richmond on business, with a young boy of fifteen from New Jersey, son of a former captain, an orphan, whom he

loved as if he had been his own child. Not having been able to leave the town before the first operations of the siege, he

found himself shut up, to his great disgust; but, not accustomed to succumb to difficulties, he resolved to escape by

some means or other. He knew the engineer-officer by reputation; he knew with what impatience that determined man

chafed under his restraint. On this day he did not, therefore, hesitate to accost him, saying, without circumlocution,

"Have you had enough of Richmond, captain?"

The engineer looked fixedly at the man who spoke, and who added, in a low voice,--

"Captain Harding, will you try to escape?"

"When?" asked the engineer quickly, and it was evident that this question was uttered without consideration, for he had

not yet examined the stranger who addressed him. But after having with a penetrating eye observed the open face of the

sailor, he was convinced that he had before him an honest man.

"Who are you?" he asked briefly.

Pencroft made himself known.

"Well," replied Harding, "and in what way do you propose to escape?"

"By that lazy balloon which is left there doing nothing, and which looks to me as if it was waiting on purpose for us--"

There was no necessity for the sailor to finish his sentence. The engineer understood him at once. He seized Pencroft by

the arm, and dragged him to his house. There the sailor developed his project, which was indeed extremely simple.

They risked nothing but their lives in its execution. The hurricane was in all its violence, it is true, but so clever and

daring an engineer as Cyrus Harding knew perfectly well how to manage a balloon. Had he himself been as well

acquainted with the art of sailing in the air as he was with the navigation of a ship, Pencroft would not have hesitated to

set out, of course taking his young friend Herbert with him; for, accustomed to brave the fiercest tempests of the ocean,

he was not to be hindered on account of the hurricane.

Captain Harding had listened to the sailor without saying a word, but his eyes shone with satisfaction. Here was the

long-sought-for opportunity--he was not a man to let it pass. The plan was feasible, though, it must be confessed,

dangerous in the extreme. In the night, in spite of their guards, they might approach the balloon, slip into the car, and

then cut the cords which held it. There was no doubt that they might be killed, but on the other hand they might

succeed, and without this storm!--Without this storm the balloon would have started already and the looked-for

opportunity would not have then presented itself.

"I am not alone!" said Harding at last.

"How many people do you wish to bring with you?" asked the sailor.

"Two; my friend Spilett, and my servant Neb."

"That will be three," replied Pencroft; "and with Herbert and me five. But the balloon will hold six--"

"That will be enough, we will go," answered Harding in a firm voice.

This "we" included Spilett, for the reporter, as his friend well knew, was not a man to draw back, and when the project

was communicated to him he approved of it unreservedly. What astonished him was, that so simple an idea had not

occurred to him before. As to Neb, he followed his master wherever his master wished to go.

"This evening, then," said Pencroft, "we will all meet out there."

"This evening, at ten o'clock," replied Captain Harding; "and Heaven grant that the storm does not abate before our

departure.

Pencroft took leave of the two friends, and returned to his lodging, where young Herbert Brown had remained. The

courageous boy knew of the sailor's plan, and it was not without anxiety that he awaited the result of the proposal being

made to the engineer. Thus five determined persons were about to abandon themselves to the mercy of the tempestuous

elements!

No! the storm did not abate, and neither Jonathan Forster nor his companions dreamed of confronting it in that frail car.

It would be a terrible journey. The engineer only feared one thing; it was that the balloon, held to the ground and

dashed about by the wind, would be torn into shreds. For several hours he roamed round the nearly- deserted square,

surveying the apparatus. Pencroft did the same on his side, his hands in his pockets, yawning now and then like a man

who did not know how to kill the time, but really dreading, like his friend, either the escape or destruction of the

balloon. Evening arrived. The night was dark in the extreme. Thick mists passed like clouds close to the ground. Rain

fell mingled with snow. it was very cold. A mist hung over Richmond. it seemed as if the violent storm had produced a

truce between the besiegers and the besieged, and that the cannon were silenced by the louder detonations of the storm.

The streets of the town were deserted. It had not even appeared necessary in that horrible weather to place a guard in

the square, in the midst of which plunged the balloon. Everything favored the departure of the prisoners, but what

might possibly be the termination of the hazardous voyage they contemplated in the midst of the furious elements?--

"Dirty weather!" exclaimed Pencroft, fixing his hat firmly on his head with a blow of his fist; "but pshaw, we shall

succeed all the same!"

At half-past nine, Harding and his companions glided from different directions into the square, which the gas-lamps,

extinguished by the wind, had left in total obscurity. Even the enormous balloon, almost beaten to the ground, could not

be seen. Independently of the sacks of ballast, to which the cords of the net were fastened, the car was held by a strong

cable passed through a ring in the pavement. The five prisoners met by the car. They had not been perceived, and such

was the darkness that they could not even see each other.

Without speaking a word, Harding, Spilett, Neb, and Herbert took their places in the car, while Pencroft by the

engineer's order detached successively the bags of ballast. It was the work of a few minutes only, and the sailor rejoined

his companions.

The balloon was then only held by the cable, and the engineer had nothing to do but to give the word.

At that moment a dog sprang with a bound into the car. It was Top, a favorite of the engineer. The faithful creature,

having broken his chain, had followed his master. He, however, fearing that its additional weight might impede their

ascent, wished to send away the animal.

"One more will make but little difference, poor beast!" exclaimed Pencroft, heaving out two bags of sand, and as he

spoke letting go the cable; the balloon ascending in an oblique direction, disappeared, after having dashed the car

against two chimneys, which it threw down as it swept by them.

Then, indeed, the full rage of the hurricane was exhibited to the voyagers. During the night the engineer could not

dream of descending, and when day broke, even a glimpse of the earth below was intercepted by fog.

Five days had passed when a partial clearing allowed them to see the wide extending ocean beneath their feet, now

lashed into the maddest fury by the gale.

Our readers will recollect what befell these five daring individuals who set out on their hazardous expedition in the

balloon on the 20th of March. Five days afterwards four of them were thrown on a desert coast, seven thousand miles

from their country! But one of their number was missing, the man who was to be their guide, their leading spirit, the

engineer, Captain Harding! The instant they had recovered their feet, they all hurried to the beach in the hopes of

rendering him assistance.

Chapter 3

The engineer, the meshes of the net having given way, had been carried off by a wave. His dog also had disappeared.

The faithful animal had voluntarily leaped out to help his master. "Forward," cried the reporter; and all four, Spilett,

Herbert, Pencroft, and Neb, forgetting their fatigue, began their search. Poor Neb shed bitter tears, giving way to

despair at the thought of having lost the only being he loved on earth.

Only two minutes had passed from the time when Cyrus Harding disappeared to the moment when his companions set

foot on the ground. They had hopes therefore of arriving in time to save him. "Let us look for him! let us look for him!"

cried Neb.

"Yes, Neb," replied Gideon Spilett, "and we will find him too!"

"Living, I trust!"

"Still living!"

"Can he swim?" asked Pencroft.

"Yes," replied Neb, "and besides, Top is there."

The sailor, observing the heavy surf on the shore, shook his head.

The engineer had disappeared to the north of the shore, and nearly half a mile from the place where the castaways had

landed. The nearest point of the beach he could reach was thus fully that distance off.

It was then nearly six o'clock. A thick fog made the night very dark. The castaways proceeded toward the north of the

land on which chance had thrown them, an unknown region, the geographical situation of which they could not even

guess. They were walking upon a sandy soil, mingled with stones, which appeared destitute of any sort of vegetation.

The ground, very unequal and rough, was in some places perfectly riddled with holes, making walking extremely

painful. From these holes escaped every minute great birds of clumsy flight, which flew in all directions. Others, more

active, rose in flocks and passed in clouds over their heads. The sailor thought he recognized gulls and cormorants,

whose shrill cries rose above the roaring of the sea.

From time to time the castaways stopped and shouted, then listened for some response from the ocean, for they thought

that if the engineer had landed, and they had been near to the place, they would have heard the barking of the dog Top,

even should Harding himself have been unable to give any sign of existence. They stopped to listen, but no sound arose

above the roaring of the waves and the dashing of the surf. The little band then continued their march forward,

searching into every hollow of the shore.

After walking for twenty minutes, the four castaways were suddenly brought to a standstill by the sight of foaming

billows close to their feet. The solid ground ended here. They found themselves at the extremity of a sharp point on

which the sea broke furiously.

"It is a promontory," said the sailor; "we must retrace our steps, holding towards the right, and we shall thus gain the

mainland."

"But if he is there," said Neb, pointing to the ocean, whose waves shone of a snowy white in the darkness. "Well, let us

call again," and all uniting their voices, they gave a vigorous shout, but there came no reply. They waited for a lull, then

began again; still no reply.

The castaways accordingly returned, following the opposite side of the promontory, over a soil equally sandy and

rugged. However, Pencroft observed that the shore was more equal, that the ground rose, and he declared that it was

joined by a long slope to a hill, whose massive front he thought that he could see looming indistinctly through the mist.

The birds were less numerous on this part of the shore; the sea was also less tumultuous, and they observed that the

agitation of the waves was diminished. The noise of the surf was scarcely heard. This side of the promontory evidently

formed a semicircular bay, which the sharp point sheltered from the breakers of the open sea. But to follow this

direction was to go south, exactly opposite to that part of the coast where Harding might have landed. After a walk of a

mile and a half, the shore presented no curve which would permit them to return to the north. This promontory, of

which they had turned the point, must be attached to the mainland. The castaways, although their strength was nearly

exhausted, still marched courageously forward, hoping every moment to meet with a sudden angle which would set

them in the first direction. What was their disappointment, when, after trudging nearly two miles, having reached an

elevated point composed of slippery rocks, they found themselves again stopped by the sea.

"We are on an islet," said Pencroft, "and we have surveyed it from one extremity to the other."

The sailor was right; they had been thrown, not on a continent, not even on an island, but on an islet which was not

more than two miles in length, with even a less breadth.

Was this barren spot the desolate refuge of sea-birds, strewn with stones and destitute of vegetation, attached to a more

important archipelago? It was impossible to say. When the voyagers from their car saw the land through the mist, they

had not been able to reconnoiter it sufficiently. However, Pencroft, accustomed with his sailor eyes to piece through the

gloom, was almost certain that he could clearly distinguish in the west confused masses which indicated an elevated

coast. But they could not in the dark determine whether it was a single island, or connected with others. They could not

leave it either, as the sea surrounded them; they must therefore put off till the next day their search for the engineer,

from whom, alas! not a single cry had reached them to show that he was still in existence.

"The silence of our friend proves nothing," said the reporter. "Perhaps he has fainted or is wounded, and unable to reply

directly, so we will not despair.

The reporter then proposed to light a fire on a point of the islet, which would serve as a signal to the engineer. But they

searched in vain for wood or dry brambles; nothing but sand and stones were to be found. The grief of Neb and his

companions, who were all strongly attached to the intrepid Harding, can be better pictured than described. It was too

evident that they were powerless to help him. They must wait with what patience they could for daylight. Either the

engineer had been able to save himself, and had already found a refuge on some point of the coast, or he was lost for

ever! The long and painful hours passed by. The cold was intense. The castaways suffered cruelly, but they scarcely

perceived it. They did not even think of taking a minute's rest. Forgetting everything but their chief, hoping or wishing

to hope on, they continued to walk up and down on this sterile spot, always returning to its northern point, where they

could approach nearest to the scene of the catastrophe. They listened, they called, and then uniting their voices, they

endeavored to raise even a louder shout than before, which would be transmitted to a great distance. The wind had now

fallen almost to a calm, and the noise of the sea began also to subside. One of Neb's shouts even appeared to produce an

echo. Herbert directed Pencroft's attention to it, adding, "That proves that there is a coast to the west, at no great

distance." The sailor nodded; besides, his eyes could not deceive him. If he had discovered land, however indistinct it

might appear, land was sure to be there. But that distant echo was the only response produced by Neb's shouts, while a

heavy gloom hung over all the part east of the island.

Meanwhile, the sky was clearing little by little. Towards midnight the stars shone out, and if the engineer had been

there with his companions he would have remarked that these stars did not belong to the Northern Hemisphere. The

Polar Star was not visible, the constellations were not those which they had been accustomed to see in the United

States; the Southern Cross glittered brightly in the sky.

The night passed away. Towards five o'clock in the morning of the 25th of March, the sky began to lighten; the horizon

still remained dark, but with daybreak a thick mist rose from the sea, so that the eye could scarcely penetrate beyond

twenty feet or so from where they stood. At length the fog gradually unrolled itself in great heavily moving waves.

It was unfortunate, however, that the castaways could distinguish nothing around them. While the gaze of the reporter

and Neb were cast upon the ocean, the sailor and Herbert looked eagerly for the coast in the west. But not a speck of

land was visible. "Never mind," said Pencroft, "though I do not see the land, I feel it... it is there... there... as sure as the

fact that we are no longer at Richmond." But the fog was not long in rising. it was only a fine-weather mist. A hot sun

soon penetrated to the surface of the island. About half-past six, three-quarters of an hour after sunrise, the mist became

more transparent. It grew thicker above, but cleared away below. Soon the isle appeared as if it had descended from a

cloud, then the sea showed itself around them, spreading far away towards the east, but bounded on the west by an

abrupt and precipitous coast.

Yes! the land was there. Their safety was at least provisionally insured. The islet and the coast were separated by a

channel about half a mile in breadth, through which rushed an extremely rapid current.

However, one of the castaways, following the impulse of his heart, immediately threw himself into the current, without

consulting his companions, without saying a single word. It was Neb. He was in haste to be on the other side, and to

climb towards the north. It had been impossible to hold him back. Pencroft called him in vain. The reporter prepared to

follow him, but Pencroft stopped him. "Do you want to cross the channel?" he asked. "Yes," replied Spilett. "All right!"

said the seaman; "wait a bit; Neb is well able to carry help to his master. If we venture into the channel, we risk being

carried into the open sea by the current, which is running very strong; but, if I'm not wrong, it is ebbing. See, the tide is

going down over the sand. Let us have patience, and at low water it is possible we may find a fordable passage." "You

are right," replied the reporter, "we will not separate more than we can help."

During this time Neb was struggling vigorously against the current. He was crossing in an oblique direction. His black

shoulders could be seen emerging at each stroke. He was carried down very quickly, but he also made way towards the

shore. It took more than half an hour to cross from the islet to the land, and he reached the shore several hundred feet

from the place which was opposite to the point from which he had started.

Landing at the foot of a high wall of granite, he shook himself vigorously; and then, setting off running, soon

disappeared behind a rocky point, which projected to nearly the height of the northern extremity of the islet.

Neb's companions had watched his daring attempt with painful anxiety, and when he was out of sight, they fixed their

attention on the land where their hope of safety lay, while eating some shell-fish with which the sand was strewn. It

was a wretched repast, but still it was better than nothing. The opposite coast formed one vast bay, terminating on the

south by a very sharp point, which was destitute of all vegetation, and was of a very wild aspect. This point abutted on

the shore in a grotesque outline of high granite rocks. Towards the north, on the contrary, the bay widened, and a more

rounded coast appeared, trending from the southwest to the northeast, and terminating in a slender cape. The distance

between these two extremities, which made the bow of the bay, was about eight miles. Half a mile from the shore rose

the islet, which somewhat resembled the carcass of a gigantic whale. its extreme breadth was not more than a quarter of

a mile.

Opposite the islet, the beach consisted first of sand, covered with black stones, which were now appearing little by little

above the retreating tide. The second level was separated by a perpendicular granite cliff, terminated at the top by an

unequal edge at a height of at least 300 feet. It continued thus for a length of three miles, ending suddenly on the right

with a precipice which looked as if cut by the hand of man. On the left, above the promontory, this irregular and jagged

cliff descended by a long slope of conglomerated rocks till it mingled with the ground of the southern point. On the

upper plateau of the coast not a tree appeared. It was a flat tableland like that above Cape Town at the Cape of Good

Hope, but of reduced proportions; at least so it appeared seen from the islet. However, verdure was not wanting to the

right beyond the precipice. They could easily distinguish a confused mass of great trees, which extended beyond the

limits of their view. This verdure relieved the eye, so long wearied by the continued ranges of granite. Lastly, beyond

and above the plateau, in a northwesterly direction and at a distance of at least seven miles, glittered a white summit

which reflected the sun's rays. It was that of a lofty mountain, capped with snow.

The question could not at present be decided whether this land formed an island, or whether it belonged to a continent.

But on beholding the convulsed masses heaped up on the left, no geologist would have hesitated to give them a

volcanic origin, for they were unquestionably the work of subterranean convulsions.

Gideon Spilett, Pencroft, and Herbert attentively examined this land, on which they might perhaps have to live many

long years; on which indeed they might even die, should it be out of the usual track of vessels, as was likely to be the

case.

"Well," asked Herbert, "what do you say, Pencroft?"

"There is some good and some bad, as in everything," replied the sailor. "We shall see. But now the ebb is evidently

making. In three hours we will attempt the passage, and once on the other side, we will try to get out of this scrape, and

I hope may find the captain." Pencroft was not wrong in his anticipations. Three hours later at low tide, the greater part

of the sand forming the bed of the channel was uncovered. Between the islet and the coast there only remained a

narrow channel which would no doubt be easy to cross.

About ten o'clock, Gideon Spilett and his companions stripped themselves of their clothes, which they placed in

bundles on their heads, and then ventured into the water, which was not more than five feet deep. Herbert, for whom it

was too deep, swam like a fish, and got through capitally. All three arrived without difficulty on the opposite shore.

Quickly drying themselves in the sun, they put on their clothes, which they had preserved from contact with the water,

and sat down to take counsel together what to do next.

Chapter 4

All at once the reporter sprang up, and telling the sailor that he would rejoin them at that same place, he climbed the

cliff in the direction which the Negro Neb had taken a few hours before. Anxiety hastened his steps, for he longed to

obtain news of his friend, and he soon disappeared round an angle of the cliff. Herbert wished to accompany him.

"Stop here, my boy," said the sailor; "we have to prepare an encampment, and to try and find rather better grub than

these shell-fish. Our friends will want something when they come back. There is work for everybody."

"I am ready," replied Herbert.

"All right," said the sailor; "that will do. We must set about it regularly. We are tired, cold, and hungry; therefore we

must have shelter, fire, and food. There is wood in the forest, and eggs in nests; we have only to find a house."

"Very well," returned Herbert, "I will look for a cove among the rocks, and I shall be sure to discover some hole into

which we can creep."

"All right," said Pencroft; "go on, my boy."

They both walked to the foot of the enormous wall over the beach, far from which the tide had now retreated; but

instead of going towards the north, they went southward. Pencroft had remarked, several hundred feet from the place at

which they landed, a narrow cutting, out of which he thought a river or stream might issue. Now, on the one hand it

was important to settle themselves in the neighborhood of a good stream of water, and on the other it was possible that

the current had thrown Cyrus Harding on the shore there.

The cliff, as has been said, rose to a height of three hundred feet, but the mass was unbroken throughout, and even at its

base, scarcely washed by the sea, it did not offer the smallest fissure which would serve as a dwelling. It was a

perpendicular wall of very hard granite, which even the waves had not worn away. Towards the summit fluttered

myriads of sea-fowl, and especially those of the web-footed species with long, flat, pointed beaks--a clamorous tribe,

bold in the presence of man, who probably for the first time thus invaded their domains. Pencroft recognized the skua

and other gulls among them, the voracious little sea-mew, which in great numbers nestled in the crevices of the granite.

A shot fired among this swarm would have killed a great number, but to fire a shot a gun was needed, and neither

Pencroft nor Herbert had one; besides this, gulls and sea-mews are scarcely eatable, and even their eggs have a

detestable taste. However, Herbert, who had gone forward a little more to the left, soon came upon rocks covered with

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TheMysteriousIslandbyJulesVerne1874PART1-DROPPEDFROMTHECLOUDSChapter1"Arewerisingagain?""No.Onthecontrary.""Arewedescending?""Worsethanthat,captain!wearefalling!""ForHeaven'ssakeheaveouttheballast!""There!thelastsackisempty!""Doestheballoonrise?""No!""Ihearanoiselikethedashingofwaves.Theseaisbelowth...

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