THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND

by

JULES VERNE


CREDITS AND COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

I would like to thank Mr. Sidney Kravitz (skravitz@aol.com) for allowing me to utilize his
unabridged 200,000 word translation of Jules Verne's "Mysterious Island" to make this book
available to the subscribers of America Online.

Mr. Kravitz labored fourteen long years to faithfully translate this text from the original french. 
On behalf of Jules Verne enthusiasts everywhere...thank you!

"The Mysterious Island" with illustrations is also available online on the World Wide Web, in
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Verne related WWW sites!  

The URL for The Jules Verne Collection is:

http://www.math.technion.ac.il/%7Erl/JulesVerne/


Unabridged translation from the French by Sidney Kravitz

Translation Copyright (c) 1992 by Sidney Kravitz, 592 Herrick Drive, Dover, New Jersey
07801-2013             

This translation may be distributed and copied freely, in its entirety, for personal use. All original
translator and copyright information must remain intact. Any sales or other uses of this document
are expressly forbidden without the specific consent of the translator and copyright owner.


FIRST PART

The Mysterious Island

The Castaways from the Sky


Chapter I

The storm of 1865 - Crisis in the sky - A balloon swept along in a waterspout - The torn casing -
Nothing but the sea in sight - Five passengers - What occurred in the basket - A coast on the
horizon - The denouement of the drama.

"Are we rising?"

"No!  On the contrary!  We are descending!"

"Worse than that, Mister Cyrus!  We are falling!"

"For heaven's sake, throw out the ballast!"

"There.  The last sack is overboard!"

"Does the balloon rise?"

"No!"

"I hear the clacking of waves!"

"The sea is under the basket!"

"It cannot be five hundred feet from us!"

Then a powerful voice rent the air and these words resounded:

"Overboard with everything heavy!... Everything!  We are in God's hands!"

Such were the words which erupted in the sky above the vast watery desert of the Pacific about
four o'clock in the evening of the 23rd of March 1865.

Without doubt no one can forget the terrible northeast storm that burst forth during the equinox
of that year when the barometer fell to seven hundred ten millimeters.  It was a storm that lasted
from the 18th to the 26th of March without letup.  It ravaged America, Europe and Asia over a
broad zone of eighteen hundred miles around a line oblique to the equator, from the thirty fifth
north parallel to the fortieth south parallel.  Towns overthrown, forests uprooted, shores
devastated by the mountains of water which fell upon them as tidal waves, record bureaus
counting hundreds of vessels thrown on the coast, entire territories leveled by the waterspouts
which pulverized everything in their path, several thousand people crushed on land or swallowed
by the sea, these were the marks of fury left behind by this formidable storm.  It surpassed the
disasters which so frightfully ravaged Havana and Guadalupe, one on the 25th of October 1810,
the other on the 26th of July 1825.

At the very moment when so many catastrophes were taking place on land and on sea a drama no
less startling was being enacted in the agitated skies.

In fact a balloon, carried like a ball at the top of a waterspout and caught by the gyratory motion
of a column of air, was traveling through space with a velocity of ninety miles per hour (1) turning
around itself as if it had been seized by an aerial whirlpool.

A basket oscillated beneath the lower appendage of the balloon.  It contained five passengers,
barely visible in this thick fog mixed with pulverized water which extended down to the ocean's
surface.

From whence came this balloon, this veritable plaything of the frightful tempest?  From which
point on the earth's surface did it take off?  Evidently it could not have left during the storm.  But
the storm had already lasted for five days and its first symptoms were manifested on the 18th. 
Wouldn't one be justified in believing that this balloon came from quite a distance, because it had
not traversed less than two thousand miles in twenty four hours?

In any case the passengers had no means of guessing at the route traversed since the departure
because all points of reference were lacking.  This curious fact also resulted, that carried about in
the midst of the storm's violence, they did not suffer from it.  They were displaced and turned
round and round without sensing any of this rotation nor their horizontal movement.  Their eyes
could not pierce the thick fog that had gathered under the basket.  Around them everything was
obscure. Such was the opacity of the clouds that they could not say if it was day or night.  No
reflection of light, no noise from the inhabited world, no bellowing of the ocean could reach them
through this immense obscurity, as long as they remained at the higher altitudes.  Their rapid
descent alone alerted them to the dangers that they faced above the waves.

However, relieved of heavy objects such as munitions, arms and provisions, the balloon rose to a
height of four thousand five hundred feet.  The passengers, after having realized that the sea was
under the basket, and finding the dangers from above less formidable than those from below, did
not hesitate to throw overboard even the most useful objects as they sought to lose no more of
this fluid, this soul of their apparatus, which sustained them above the abyss.

The night passed in the midst of anxieties that would have been mortal for less energetic souls. 
Then day reappeared and with the day the storm showed a tendency to moderate.  From the
beginning of this day of the 24th of March it showed some symptoms of abatement.  At dawn the
clouds, now more vesicular, rose higher in the sky.  In several hours the waterspout widened and
broke up.  The wind, no longer a hurricane, changed to "very brisk", that is to say that the
translational velocity of the atmospheric layers was reduced by half.  It was still what sailors call
"a breeze for three reefs," but the improvement in the disturbance of the elements was none the
less considerable.

(1) Equal to 40 meters per second or 144 kilometers per hour (nearly 36 leagues based on a
league of 4 kilometers).

About eleven o'clock the lower atmosphere became noticeably clearer.  It threw off this dampness
that is seen and even felt after the passage of large meteors.  It did not seem that the storm had
gone further west.  It appeared to be dying of its own accord.  Perhaps it was dispersing into
electrical layers as sometimes happens to the typhoons of the Indian Ocean after the rupture of a
waterspout.

But about this time it was again obvious that the balloon was slowly but continually falling to a
lower altitude.  It even seemed that it was deflating little by little and that its envelope was
elongating and distending, passing from a spherical shape to the ovoid.

About noon the balloon did not hover more than two thousand feet above the sea.  It contained
fifty thousand cubic feet (1) and thanks to its capacity it had evidently been able to maintain itself
a long while in the air regardless of whether it attained a high altitude or whether it was moving in
a horizontal direction.

(1) Approximately 1400 cubic meters.

At this time the passengers threw out the last objects which still weighed down the basket, several
provisions they had kept, everything, even the small knick-knacks in their pockets.  Helping each
other, they hoisted themselves onto the ring to which the ropes were attached, all the while
looking for solid ground beneath the balloon.

It was evident that the passengers could not keep the balloon at a high altitude and that their gas
was failing them.

They would perish!

In fact there was no continent, not even an island, beneath them.  There was no single spot on
which to land, no solid surface which their anchor could touch.

It was an immense ocean whose waves still hurled about with incomparable violence.  It was an
ocean without visible limits even though they could see over a radius of forty miles from their
altitude.  It was a liquid plain, battered without mercy and lashed by the storm.  It seemed like an
overlap of dishevelled waves on which had been thrown a vast network of white crests.  No land
in sight, not even a vessel.

It was necessary, at any price, to stop the balloon's descent and to impede it from being engulfed
by the waves, and it was evidently this urgent need which occupied the passengers of the basket. 
But in spite of their exertions, the balloon kept falling, sometimes even at a good speed, all the
while following the direction of the wind, that is to say from the northeast to the southwest.

It was a terrible situation for these unfortunates.  They were evidently no longer masters of the
balloon.  Their efforts had no effect.  The envelope of the balloon elongated itself more and more. 
The fluid escaped and they could do nothing to hold it in.  Their descent was visibly accelerating
and at one o'clock in the afternoon the basket was suspended not more than six hundred feet
above the ocean.

In fact it was impossible to prevent the loss of gas which was freely escaping through a rip in the
apparatus.

By throwing away everything in the basket the passengers were able to keep it in the air for
several more hours.  But the inevitable catastrophe could not be prevented and if land did not
show itself before night, passengers, basket and balloon would definitely disappear beneath the
waves.

They now executed the only maneuver still left to them. The balloon passengers were evidently
energetic men who knew how to look death in the face.  Not a single murmur escaped their lips. 
They had decided to struggle to the last second and to do everything to delay their fall.  The
basket was only a wicker box, not intended for floating, and there was no possibility of
maintaining it on the surface of the sea if it should fall there.

At two o'clock the balloon was scarcely four hundred feet above the waves.

At this moment a virile voice - the voice of a man whose heart was inaccessible to fear - made
itself heard.  To this voice responded other voices no less energetic.

"Is everything thrown out?"

"No!  There are still ten thousand francs in gold!"

A weighty sack fell at once into the sea.

"Does the balloon rise?"

"A little, but it won't be long before it falls again!"

"Is there anything left to throw out?"

"Nothing!"

"Yes!... the basket!"

"Let us hang on to the ropes and throw the basket into the sea!"

It was in fact the only and last means of making the balloon lighter.  The cords which connected
the basket to the ring were slashed and the balloon rose to two thousand feet.

The five passengers were hoisted on the ropes above the ring, and holding on to the meshes they
looked at the abyss.

The static sensitivity of balloons is well known. Throwing out the lightest objects suffices to
induce a vertical displacement.  The apparatus, floating in the air, behaves like an accurate
mathematical balance.  One can therefore understand why it is that when it is relieved of a
considerable weight its displacement is significant and immediate.  So it was on this occasion.

But after holding in equilibrium for an instant at a higher altitude, the balloon began to fall again. 
The gas was escaping through a tear that was impossible to repair.

The passengers had done all that they could do.  No human means could save them now.  They
could no longer count on any help except from heaven.

At four o'clock the balloon was not more than five hundred feet above the water's surface.

A barking was heard.  A dog accompanied the passengers and was hanging on to the meshes near
his master.

"Top has seen something!" shouted one of the passengers.

Then at once a firm voice was heard:

"Land!  Land!"

The balloon, which the wind had been carrying toward the southwest, had covered hundreds of
miles since dawn and a rather elevated land in fact appeared in this direction.

But this land was still more than thirty miles windward. More than a full hour was needed to reach
it assuming they did not deviate from their path.  One hour!  Wouldn't the balloon be emptied of
all its fluid before then?

Such was the horrible question.  The passengers could distinctly see this solid point that they must
reach at all cost.  They were ignorant of what it was, whether island or continent, because they
hardly knew toward which part of the world the storm had driven them.  But they must reach this
land whether inhabited or not, whether hospitable or not.

Now, at four o'clock, they could see that the balloon could no longer sustain itself.  It grazed the
surface of the sea.  Several times already the crests of enormous waves licked the bottom of the
ropes making it still heavier.  Like a bird with a wounded wing the balloon could barely half rise
again.

A half hour later land was only a mile away but the balloon, exhausted, flabby, distended,
crumpled in large wrinkles, had no gas except in its upper part.  The passengers, holding on to the
ropes, were too heavy for it and soon, half immersed in the sea, they were battered by furious
waves.  The casing of the balloon made an air pocket which the wind engulfed and pushed like a
vessel with its back to the wind.  Perhaps they could reach the coast this way.

They were now only two cables away when four horrible cries were heard simultaneously.  The
balloon, which seemed like it would never rise again, made an unexpected bound after being
struck by a large wave.  As if it had suddenly lost another of its weights it rose to a height of
fifteen hundred feet and there it met a swirl of wind which, instead of bringing it directly to the
coast, followed an almost parallel direction.  Finally, two minutes later, it approached obliquely,
definitely falling down on the sand of the shore out of reach of the waves.

The passengers, helping one another, succeeded in disengaging themselves from the meshes of the
ropes.  The balloon, relieved of their weight, again became airborne, and like a wounded bird that
revives for a moment, it disappeared into space.

The basket had contained five passengers plus a dog, but the balloon threw only four on the
shore.

The missing passenger had evidently been swept away by the wave that struck the ropes.  This
allowed the lightened balloon to rise again for a last time and reach land a few moments later.

Hardly had the four castaways - we will call them by this name - set foot on the ground when all,
thinking of the missing one, shouted:

"Perhaps he is trying to swim.  Let us save him!  Let us save him!"


Chapter II

An episode of the Civil War - The engineer Cyrus Smith - Gideon Spilett - The Negro Neb - The
sailor Pencroff - Young Herbert - An unexpected proposition - Rendez-vous at ten o'clock in the
evening - Departure in the storm.

Those whom the storm had thrown on this coast were neither professional aeronauts nor amateurs
of aerial expeditions. They were prisoners of war whose audacity had induced them to flee under
these extraordinary circumstances.  A hundred times they should have perished!  A hundred times
their torn balloon should have fallen into the abyss!  But Heaven reserved a strange destiny for
them and on the twenty fourth of March, after having fled Richmond, which was besieged by the
troops of General Ulysses Grant, they found themselves seven thousand miles from the capitol of
Virginia, the principal stronghold of the rebels during the dreadful Civil War.  Their aerial journey
had lasted five days.

These are the curious circumstances which resulted in the prisoners' escape - an escape which
ended in the catastrophe just related.

In this same year, in the month of February 1865, during one of those bold actions in which
General Grant tried unsuccessfully to capture Richmond, some of his officers fell into enemy
hands and were interned in the city.  One of the most distinguished of those that were captured
was a staff officer by the name of Cyrus Smith.

Cyrus Smith, a native of Massachusetts, was an engineer and a scientist of the first rank.  During
the war the Union government had entrusted him with the management of the railroads whose
strategic role was considerable.  A true northerner, he was lean, bony, lanky, and about forty five
years of age.  His hair was already graying, and as to a beard, he had only a thick moustache.  He
had one of those handsome "numismatic" heads that looked like they were made to be stamped on
medals, with fiery eyes, a serious mouth and the physionogomy of a scientist of the military
school.  He was one of those engineers who want to begin by handling the hammer and the pick,
like those generals who wish to begin as simple soldiers.  In addition to an ingenuity of the mind,
he also possessed supreme manual ability.  His muscles were remarkably well developed.  Truly a
man of action as well as a man of thought, he worked without effort, having a vitality that defied
all hard luck.  Very informed, very practical, able to disentangle himself from any difficulty, he had
a superb temperament because he always remained master of himself whatever the circumstances. 
He had in a very large degree the three conditions whose combination determines human energy:
activity of mind and body, impetuosity of the desires, and power of the will.  And his motto could
have been that of Guillaume of Orange of the seventeenth century: "I have no need of hope in
order to undertake, nor of success in order to persevere."

At the same time Cyrus Smith was courage personified.  He had been in all the battles of the Civil
War.  After having begun under Ulysses Grant with the volunteers of Illinois he fought at
Paducah, at Belmont, at Pittsburg Landing, at the siege of Corinth, at Port Gibson, at Black
River, at Chattanooga, at Wilderness, and on the Potomac, everywhere and valiantly, a soldier
worthy of the general who said "I never count my dead!"  And a hundred times Cyrus Smith
should have been in the number of those not counted by the terrible Grant, but in these combats,
where he hardly spared himself, chance favored him as always, up to the moment when he was
wounded and captured on the Richmond battlefield.

At the same time as Cyrus Smith and on the same day another important personage fell into the
power of the Southerners.  It was none other than the honorable Gideon Spilett, "reporter" for the
New York Herald, who had been charged to follow the vicissitudes of the war in the midst of the
northern armies.

Gideon Spilett was of the race of those astonishing English or American reporters, such as
Stanley and others, who recoil at nothing in order to obtain exact information and to transmit it to
their journal with the briefest delay.  The journals of the Union, such as the New York Herald, are
very influential and their reporters are representatives that can be counted on.  Gideon Spilett
marked the first rank of these representatives.

A man of great merit, energetic, prompt and ready for anything, full of ideas, having traveled the
entire world, soldier and artist, hot-headed in advice, resolute in action, counting neither pain nor
fatigue nor dangers when gathering news for himself first and then for his journal, a true hero of
curiosity, information, the unpublishable, the unknown, the impossible, he was one of those
intrepid observers who write under fire, chronically in the line of fire, and for whom all perils are
good fortune.

He too had been in all the battles, on the front lines, revolver in one hand, notebook in the other,
and grapeshot did not make his hand tremble.  He did not burden the telegraph wires incessantly,
like those who speak when they have nothing to say, but each of his notes, short, candid and
clear, brought light to bear on an important point.  Moreover, "humor" did not fail him.  It was he
who, after the affair of Black River, wishing at any price to keep his place at the wicket of the
telegraph office in order to announce 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 was the first to be informed.

Gideon Spilett had a tall stature.  He was forty years old at most.  Light side whiskers, somewhat
red, surrounded his face.  His eye was calm, quick and rapid in its movements.  It was the eye of a
man who was accustomed to quickly perceive all the details of a scene.  Of solid frame, he was
tempered in all climates like a bar of steel in ice water.

For ten years Gideon Spilett had been an accredited reporter of the New York Herald which he
enriched with his articles and his drawings because he was as skilled with the pencil as with the
pen.  When he was captured he was in the act of describing and sketching the battle.  The last
words written in his notebook were these:  "A Southerner is taking aim at me and..."  And the
shot missed its mark and following his usual luck, Gideon Spilett came out of the affair without a
scratch.

Cyrus Smith and Gideon Spilett, who did not know each other except by reputation, were both
taken to Richmond.  The engineer rapidly recovered from his wound and it was during his
convalescence that he made the acquaintance of the reporter. These two men got along and
learned to appreciate each other. Soon their common life had only one goal, to escape and rejoin
Grant's army, and to fight again in its ranks for federal unity.

The two Americans decided to profit from any occasion; but although they were left at liberty in
the city, Richmond was so severely guarded that an escape could be regarded as impossible.

At this time Cyrus Smith was joined by a servant who was devoted to him in life and in death. 
This fearless person was a Negro born of slave parents into the engineer's estate but Cyrus Smith,
who was an abolitionist from conviction and from the heart, had long since emancipated him.  The
slave, on becoming free, did not wish to leave his master.  He loved him to the death.  He was
thirty years old, vigorous, agile, skilful, intelligent, gentle and calm, naive at times, always smiling,
helpful and kind.  He was called Nebuchadnezzar which was abbreviated to the familiar Neb.

When Neb learned that his master had been made prisoner he left Massachusetts without
hesitating, arrived before Richmond, and with shrewdness and ruses, after having risked his life
twenty times, he succeeded in penetrating into the besieged city.  Cyrus Smith's pleasure in seeing
his servant again and Neb's joy on finding his master cannot be expressed.

But if Neb was able to get into Richmond it was, on the other hand, difficult to get out because
the Federal prisoners were under close surveillance.  It would take an extraordinary occasion to
enable them to escape with some chance of success, and this occasion not only did not present
itself, but it did not seem that it ever would.

Meanwhile Grant continued his energetic operations.  The victory at Petersburg had been very
dearly fought.  His forces, united with those of Butler, could still not obtain a decisive outcome in
front of Richmond so that the release of the prisoners was not at hand.  The reporter, who found
his captivity tedious, could not find a single detail worth noting and could no longer endure it.  He
had but one idea: to leave Richmond at any price.  Several times he had even attempted it but was
stopped by insurmountable obstacles.

However the siege continued and if the prisoners were in a hurry to escape to rejoin Grant's army,
some of the besieged were no less in a hurry to flee in order to rejoin the rebel army, among them
a certain Jonathan Forster, a rabid

 Southerner.  In fact, if the Federal prisoners could not leave the city neither could the
confederates because the Northern army invested it.  The governor of Richmond had not been
able to communicate with General Lee for some time.  It was of upmost importance to make the
city's situation known in order to hasten the march of the relief army.  This Jonathan Forster had
the idea of floating a balloon in order to cross the besieged lines and thus reach the rebel camp.

The governor authorized the attempt.  A balloon was fabricated and placed at the disposal of
Jonathan Forster and five of his companions who would follow him into the skies.  It was
furnished with munitions in case they had to defend themselves on landing, and with provisions in
case their aerial voyage was prolonged.

The departure of the balloon was fixed for 18th of March. It would take place during the night
and, with a moderate northwest wind the aeronauts could count on arriving at General Lee's
quarters in a few hours.

But this northwest wind was not a simple breeze.  From the 18th on one could see that it was
turning into a storm.  Before long the tempest was such that the departure of Forster had to be
postponed because it was impossible to risk the balloon and those that it would carry into the
unchained elements.

The balloon, inflated in the main square of Richmond, remained there ready to leave at the first
break in the wind. They were very impatient when they saw no break in the weather.

The 18th and the 19th passed without any change in the storm.  It even proved very difficult to
preserve the balloon which gusts of wind threw to the ground.

The night of the 19th to the 20th passed but in the morning the fury of the storm increased. 
Departure was impossible.

On that day the engineer Cyrus Smith was accosted in one of the streets of Richmond by a man he
did not know.  He was a sailor called Pencroff, between thirty five and forty years of age, with a
vigorous frame, very sunburnt, sharp and blinking eyes, but with a good shape.  This Pencroff was
a Northerner who had traversed all the seas of the globe and who had experienced all the
adventures that could befall a being with two feet and no feathers.  Needless to say he had an
enterprising nature, ready to venture anything and astonished at nothing.  Pencroff came to
Richmond at the beginning of the year on business with a fifteen year old boy, Herbert Brown of
New Jersey, the son of his captain, an orphan whom he loved like his own child.  Not being able
to leave the city before the first operations of the siege, he found himself confined there to his
great displeasure and he too had but one idea, to escape by all possible means.  He knew of Cyrus
Smith's reputation.  He knew of the impatience that this determined man endured under restraint. 
On this day he therefore did not hesitate to approach him saying without thinking:

"Mister Smith, have you had enough of Richmond?"

The engineer stared at the man who spoke to him in this way, who added in a low voice:

"Mister Smith, would you like to escape?"

"When?"... the engineer replied briskly.  This response escaped him before he could examine the
person speaking to him.

But after giving the sailor a penetrating look he did not doubt that he had an honest man before
him.

"Who are you?" he asked briefly.

Pencroff made himself known.

"Good," replied Cyrus Smith, "and by what means do you propose to escape?"

"By that lazy balloon which lies there doing nothing and which seems to be waiting just for us..."

The sailor had no need to finish.  The engineer understood from the first word.  He seized
Pencroff by the arms and led him to his dwelling.

There the sailor developed his project, really a simple one.  They risked nothing in its execution
but their lives, The storm was at its height, it was true, but an engineer as skilful as Cyrus Smith
would know how to navigate a balloon. If he, Pencroff, knew how to maneuver it he would not
have hesitated to leave with Herbert of course.  He had seen better storms than this, and he could
reckon with a tempest.

Cyrus Smith listened to the sailor without saying a word but his eyes lit up.  This was the
occasion. He was not a man to let it pass.  The project was very dangerous, but it was feasible. 
At night they could board the balloon in spite of the surveillance, slip into the basket and cut the
lines that held it.  Certainly they risked being killed but on the other hand they could succeed, and
without this storm... but without this storm the balloon would already have left and this long
sought opportunity would not have presented itself at this time.

"I am not alone!..." Cyrus Smith finally said.

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

"Two: my friend Spilett and my servant Neb."

"That makes three," replied Pencroff, "and with Herbert and I, five.  Now the balloon can carry
six..."

"That is sufficient.  We will leave!" said Cyrus Smith.

This "we" included the reporter who was not a man to back out.  When told about the project, he
approved it without reservations.  What astonished him was that they had not already thought of
so simple an idea.  As to Neb, he followed his master wherever his master wished to go.

"This evening then," said Pencroff, "the five of us will stroll along there pretending curiosity."

"This evening at ten o'clock," replied Cyrus Smith, "and pray to Heaven that this storm will not
abate before our departure."

Pencroff took leave of the engineer and returned to his lodging where young Herbert Brown had
remained.  This courageous lad knew of the sailor's plan and waited with anxiety for the results of
the steps taken with the engineer. As we know, it was that five determined men would hurl
themselves into the full storm!

No! The storm did not abate.  Neither Jonathan Forster nor his companions could dream of
confronting it in the frail

basket.  The day was terrible.  The engineer feared but one thing: it was that the balloon, held to
the ground and leveled by the wind, would be torn into a thousand pieces.  For several hours he
prowled around the nearly deserted square surveying the apparatus.  Pencroff on his side did
likewise, his hands in his pockets, about to yawn, like a man who doesn't know how to kill time,
but also fearing that the balloon would be torn or even that it would break its lines and escape into
the sky.

Evening came.  The night was very gloomy.  A thick mist came on with clouds at ground level. 
Rain fell mixed with snow.  It was cold.  A sort of fog settled over Richmond.  It seemed that the
violent tempest forced a truce between the besiegers and the besieged and that the cannon wished
to be silent before the formidable detonations of the storm.  The streets of the city were deserted. 
In this horrible weather it did not even seem necessary to guard the square in which the balloon
was floundering.  Evidently everything favored the departure of the prisoners; but this voyage in
an unleashed storm!...

"Nasty weather," Pencroff said to himself, adjusting his hat with his fist while the wind was trying
to dislodge it from his head.  "Oh well!  We will succeed all the same!"

At half past nine Cyrus Smith and his companions glided in from different corners of the square
which the gas lanterns, extinguished by the wind, left in deep darkness.  They could not even see
the enormous balloon which was almost completely thrown to the ground.  Independent of the
sacks of ballast which held the ropes, the basket was restrained by a strong cable which passed
through a ring in the pavement and doubled back on board.

The five prisoners met near the basket.  They had not been seen.  In the obscurity they could not
even see each other.

Without saying a word Cyrus Smith, Gideon Spilett, Neb and Herbert took their place in the
basket, while Pencroff on an order from the engineer, successively detached the bags of ballast. 
This took but a few moments and the sailor rejoined his companions.

The balloon was then held only by the doubled cable and Cyrus Smith had only to give the order
to depart.

At that moment a dog dashed toward the basket.  It was Top, the engineer's dog, who having
broken his chain, had followed his master.  The engineer, fearing the excess weight, wanted to
send the animal away.

"Bah!  What's one more," said Pencroff, relieving the basket of two sacks of sand.

Then he cast off the doubled cable and the balloon left in an oblique direction and disappeared
after the basket hurled itself against two chimneys in the fury of its departure.

The storm then unleashed itself with a frightful violence. During the night the engineer could not
think of descending and when day returned all sight of ground was obscured by the clouds.  It was
only after five days that a clearing let them see the immense ocean beneath the balloon, which the
wind had driven on at a frightful speed.

We know that five men left on the 20th of March and that four of them were thrown, on the 24th
of March, on a deserted

coast more than six thousand miles from their country (1).

It was their natural chief, the engineer Cyrus Smith, who was missing.  The first thought of the
four balloon survivors was to rescue him.


Chapter III

Five o'clock in the evening - The missing person - Neb's despair - Search to the north - The islet -
A wretched night of anguish - The morning fog - Neb swims - View of the land - Fording the
channel.

 The engineer was carried off by a wave through the mesh of rope which had given way.  His dog
had also disappeared. The faithful animal had voluntarily thrown himself in to help his master.

"Forward!" shouted the reporter.

And all four, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, Pencroff and Neb, forgetting their exhaustion and fatigue,
began their search.

Poor Neb cried with rage and despair at the same time at the thought of having lost all that he
loved in the world.

Two minutes had not passed from the moment when Cyrus Smith had disappeared to the instant
when his companions touched land.  They could therefore hope to arrive in time to save him.

"Let us search!  Let us search!" shouted Neb.

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

"Living?"

"Living!"

"Does he know how to swim?" asked Pencroff.

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

The sailor, listening to the sea roar, shook his head.

It was on the coast to the north, about a half mile from the spot where the castaways had landed,
that the engineer had disappeared.  If he could reach the nearest point on the shoreline he would
be at most a half mile from them.

It was then nearly six o'clock.  A fog came on making the night very obscure.  The castaways
proceeded northward on the eastern coastline of this land upon which chance had thrown them,
an unknown land whose geographical location they could not even guess at.  They trampled on
sandy soil, mixed with stones, which seemed to be deprived of every species of vegetation.  This
soil, very uneven and rugged, seemed in certain spots to be riddled with small potholes which
made their progress very painful.  From these holes, heavy birds of sluggish flight escaped at each
instant, flying off in all directions into the obscurity.  Other more agile ones rose and

(1)  On the 5th of April, Richmond fell into Grant's hands and the revolt of the rebels was
suppressed.  Lee retired to the west and the cause of American unity triumphed.

passed overhead in flocks like clouds.  The sailor thought he recognized sea gulls and sea mews
whose sharp cries contended with the roars from the sea.

From time to time the castaways stopped to shout and listen for some sound not made by the
ocean.  It was possible that if they were near the place where the engineer had landed they might
hear Top's barking in case Cyrus Smith was unable to give some sign of his existence.  But no cry
was heard above the roar of the waves and the clash of the surf.  Then the small troop resumed
their forward march and searched every crevice of the shoreline.

After a walk of twenty minutes the four castaways were suddenly stopped by the foaming waves. 
Solid ground vanished. They found themselves at the extremity of a sharp point against which the
sea broke with fury.

"It is a promontory," said the sailor.  "We must retrace our steps keeping to our right and in this
way we will get to the mainland."

"But what if he is there!" replied Neb, pointing to the ocean, whose enormous waves whitened the
darkness.

"Then let us call him!"

And they all shouted together vigorously but there was no response.  They waited for a lull.  They
shouted again.  Again nothing.

The castaways then went back on the opposite side of the promontory on soil just as sandy and
rocky.  However Pencroff noted that this shoreline was more abrupt, and the ground more
elevated and he assumed that it was joined by an elongated ramp to a high coast that he could
barely make out.  The birds were less numerous on this part of the shore.  The sea also surged less
here and was less noisy.  It was also remarkable that there was less agitation in the waves.  They
could barely hear the noise of the surf.  Doubtless this side of the promontory formed a
semi-circular cove with a sharp point that protected it from the waves of the open sea.

But in going in this direction they were moving toward the south away from that part of the coast
where Cyrus Smith might have set foot.  For a mile and a half the shoreline did not present any
turn that would permit them to head north again. Though they had turned the point, the
promontory should be connected to the mainland.  In spite of their exhaustion the castaways
continued to move forward courageously hoping at each moment to find a sharp turn that would
put them back in the original direction.

Imagine their disappointment when, after about two miles, they found themselves once again
stopped by the sea on a somewhat elevated group of slippery rocks.

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

The sailor's observation was justified.  The castaways had been thrown not on an continent, not
even on an island, but on an islet that did not measure more than two miles in length and whose
width was evidently considerably less.

But was this barren islet, scattered with rocks, without vegetation, this desolate refuge for several
sea birds, was it

part of an important archipelago?  They could not say.  When the balloon passengers were in the
basket they could see land only indistinctly through the fog.  They were not able to judge its size. 
However, Pencroff, whose sailor's eyes were accustomed to pierce the haze, believed that he
could distinguish confused masses in the west which would signify an elevated coast.

But then, because of the obscurity, they could not determine if the islet had a simple or a complex
appearance. They could not even leave it because the sea surrounded it. They must put off until
the next day the search for the engineer who alas had not signaled his presence by any cry.

"The silence of Cyrus proves nothing," said the reporter. "He may have fainted or be injured and
momentarily in no condition to respond, but let us not despair."

The reporter then got the idea of lighting a fire at the point of the islet to serve as a signal to the
engineer.  They looked in vain for dry wood or brushwood.  Sand and stones, there was nothing
else.

One can understand the grief of Neb and his companions who were keenly attached to this
intrepid Cyrus Smith.  It was quite evident that they were powerless to help him.  They must
await the day.  Either the engineer had been able to save himself and had already found refuge at
some point on the coast, or he was lost forever!

These were long and painful hours to pass.  The cold was sharp.  The castaways suffered cruelly
but they scarcely felt it.  It did not occur to them to rest for a moment.  Forgetting themselves for
their chief, hoping, always wanting to hope, they went back and forth on the barren islet, always
coming back to its north point, closest to the place of the catastrophe.  They listened, they
shouted, they tried to detect some supreme call.  Their voices should have carried far because a
certain calm then prevailed in the atmosphere and the noise of the sea began to fall with the
billows.

One of Neb's cries even seemed, for a moment, to produce an echo.  Herbert brought this to
Pencroff's attention, adding:

"This proves that there is a shoreline not too far to the west."

They sailor made an affirmative sign.  Besides, his eyes could not deceive him.  If he had
distinguished land however faintly, it was because land was there.

But this remote echo was the only response provoked by Neb's cries and all else on the east part
of the islet remained silent.

However, little by little the sky cleared.  Toward midnight some stars were shining and if the
engineer had been there near his companions he would have remarked that these stars were no
longer those of the northern hemisphere.  In fact the pole star did not appear above this new
horizon and the polar constellations were no longer those usually observed in North America.  It
was the Southern Cross which was shining at the south pole of the sky.

The night passed.  About five o'clock in the morning, the 25th of March, the higher levels of the
atmosphere changed slightly.  The horizon was still dark but with the first light

of day an opaque fog rose from the sea so that visibility did not extend more than about twenty
feet.  The fog spread out in large volutes that moved clumsily.

It was a disappointment.  The castaways could not distinguish anything around them.  While Neb
and the reporter looked toward the ocean, the sailor and Herbert looked for a coastline in the
west but not a bit of land was visible.

"No matter," said Pencroff, "if I do not see the coastline, I can feel it... It is there... there... just as
surely as we are no longer in Richmond."

But the haze was not long in lifting.  It was nothing but a fine weather haze.  A good sun warmed
the upper layers and this heat sifted to the surface of the islet.

In fact about half past six, three quarters of an hour after sunrise, the fog became more
transparent.  It persisted above but dissipated below.  Soon the entire islet appeared as if it had
descended from a cloud.  The sea showed itself in a circular form, infinite in the east but bounded
by an elevated and abrupt coast in the west.

Yes!  Land was there.  Their safety was at least provisionally assured.  Between the islet and the
coast, separated by an open channel a half mile in width, ran a noisy rapid current.

However, one of the castaways, consulting only his heart, immediately threw himself into the
current, without asking the opinions of his companions and without even saying a single word.  It
was Neb.  He was in a hurry to be on this coast and to rush northward.  No one could hold him
back.  Pencroff called to him but in vain.  The reporter was inclined to follow Neb.

Pencroff then went to him:

"Do you want to cross this channel?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Gideon Spilett.

"Well then listen, believe me," said the sailor, "Neb is well able to bring help to his master.  If we
throw ourselves into this channel we will risk being carried to the open sea by an extremely
violent current.  Now, if I am not mistaken, it is an ebbing current.  See the sea is going down on
the beach. Let us have patience and at low tide it is possible that we will find a fordable
passage..."

"You are right," replied the reporter.  "Let us not separate any more than we have to..."

During this time Neb was vigorously struggling against the current.  He crossed it in an oblique
direction.  They saw his black shoulders emerge at each stroke.  He was swept on at an extreme
speed but he also got closer to the shore.  It took him a half hour to cross the half mile that
separated the islet from the mainland.  He reached the opposite shore several thousand feet
downstream from the point on the islet where he started.     Neb set foot at the base of a high
granite wall and shook himself vigorously, then running he soon disappeared behind a point of
rocks that projected into the sea at about the same distance as the northern extremity of the islet.

Neb's companions anxiously followed his daring endeavor. When he was out of sight they turned
their attention to this land on which they would be taking refuge, while eating some shellfish
which were scattered on the sand.  It was a meager repast but it was something.

The opposite coast formed a vast bay, terminated in the south by a very sharp point which was
devoid of all vegetation and of a very savage aspect.  This point was joined to the shore by a
rather capricious pattern and was braced up against high granite rocks.  Toward the north, on the
other hand, a wide bay formed a more rounded coast, running from southwest to northeast and
ending with a sharp cape.  Between these two extreme points of the bay's arc the distance was
perhaps eight miles.  A half mile from shore the islet occupied a narrow strip of the sea resembling
an enormous cetacean whose body it represented on a large scale.  Its largest width was not more
than a quarter of a mile.

Opposite the island, the shore in the foreground was composed of sand scattered with blackish
rocks which, at the moment, were reappearing little by little with the ebbing tide. Behind that was
a sort of smooth granite facade crowned by a capricious ridge at a height of three hundred feet.  It
ran thus for a length of three miles and ended abruptly at the right with a slanted corner that one
would think was made by the hand of man.  On the left, on the other hand, beyond the
promontory, this sort of irregular cliff broke into prismatic fragments made of a conglomerate of
rocks, sloping downward by an elongated ramp which gradually blended with the rocks at the
southern point.

There was not one tree on the upper plateau of the coast. It was a flat plateau like the one which
overlooks Capetown at the Cape of Good Hope but with much reduced proportions.  At least so
it appeared as seen from the islet.  Nevertheless, vegetation was not lacking to the right, behind
the slanted corner.  They could easily distinguish a confused mass of large trees to the limit of
their view.  This verdure gladdened eyes saddened by the lines of the granite face.

Lastly, to the rear beyond the plateau in a northwesterly direction and at a distance of at least
seven miles, glittered a white peak reflecting the sun's rays.  It was a hat of snow capping some
distant mountain.

They could not say if the land formed an island or if it was part of a continent.  But looking at the
convulsed rocks piled up on the left, a geologist would have not hesitated to give them a volcanic
origin, because they were incontestably the result of plutonic activity.

Gideon Spilett, Pencroff and Herbert carefully observed this land on which they would perhaps
spend many long years, even die on it if they were not on the ship lanes.

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

"Well," replied the sailor, "there is good here and bad as in everything.  We will see.  But now the
ebb is being felt. In three hours we will try to cross and once there we will try to organize
ourselves to search for Mister Smith.

Pencroff was not wrong in his prediction.  Three hours later, at low tide, most of the sand that
formed the bed of the canal was uncovered.  Between the shore and the islet there remained only
a narrow channel which would doubtless be easy to cross.

In fact about ten o'clock Gideon Spilett and his two companions took off their clothing, placed
them in bundles over their heads and ventured into the channel whose depth was not more than
five feet.  Herbert, for whom the water was too high, swam like a fish and managed wonderfully. 
All arrived without difficulty on the other side.  There the sun rapidly dried them, they put on their
clothes which they had preserved from contact with the water, and they discussed the next step.


CHAPTER IV

Lithodomes - The river's mouth - The "Chimneys" - Continuation of the search - Evergreen forest
- Providing fuel - Waiting for the ebb - On the heights - The raft of wood - Return to the shore.

All at once the reporter told the sailor to wait for him in this very place where he would rejoin
him, and without losing an instant he ascended the coast in the direction followed by the negro
Neb several hours earlier.  Then he rapidly disappeared behind a corner of the coast, so anxious
was he for news about the engineer.

Herbert wanted to accompany him.

"Stay here, my boy," the sailor said to him.  "We have to prepare an encampment and to see if it is
possible to find something more substantial for the appetite than shellfish. Our friends will need to
recuperate on their return.  Each to his task."

"I am ready, Pencroff," replied Herbert.

"Good!" replied the sailor.  "That will do.  Let us proceed methodically.  We are tired, we are
cold, we are hungry.  Hence we must find shelter, fire and nourishment. The forest has wood, the
nests have eggs; it remains to find a house."

"Very well," replied Herbert, "I will look for a cave among these rocks and I will surely discover
some hole in which we can hide."     "That's that," replied Pencroff.  "Let's go, my boy."

And they both walked to the foot of the enormous wall on this beach that the receding tide had
largely uncovered.  But instead of going toward the north they went to the south. Several hundred
feet from where they had landed, Pencroff noted that the coastline presented a narrow opening
which, in his opinion, could be the mouth of a river or a brook.  Now, on the one hand, it was
important to establish themselves in the neighborhood of a potable watercourse, and on the other
hand, it was not impossible that the current had thrown Cyrus Smith on this shore.

The high wall, as has been said, rose to a height of three hundred feet but the block was solid
throughout, and even at its base, barely washed by the sea, it did not present the smallest fissure
which could serve as a temporary dwelling.  It was a perpendicular wall, made of a very hard
granite which the waves had never eroded.  Near the summit all kinds of sea birds fluttered about
in particular various web- footed species with long compressed pointed beaks - squalling, and
hardly afraid of the presence of man who, for the first time no doubt, was thus disturbing their
solitude. Among these web-footers Pencroff recognized several skua, a sort of sea gull which is
sometimes called stercorarius and also the voracious little sea mews which nested in the crevices
of the granite.  A gunshot fired into this swarm of birds would have killed a great number; but to
fire a gunshot, a gun was needed and neither Pencroff nor Herbert had one. Besides these sea
mews and these skua are scarcely edible and even their eggs have a detestable taste.

Meanwhile Herbert, who had gone a little more to the left, soon noted several seaweed covered
rocks which the high tide would cover again several hours later.  On these rocks, amid slippery
seaweed, bivalve shellfish abounded which hungry people could not disdain.  Herbert called
Pencroff, who quickly ran up.

"Ah! These are mussels!" shouted the sailor.  "Here is something to replace the eggs that we don't
have!"

"These are not mussels!" replied young Herbert, who carefully examined the mollusks attached to
the rocks, "they are lithodomes."

"And are they edible?" asked Pencroff.

"Perfectly so."

"Then let us eat lithodomes."

The sailor could rely on Herbert.  The young boy was very strong in natural history and always
had a veritable passion for this science.  His father had encouraged him in this line by letting him
attend the courses of the best Boston professors who were fond of this intelligent and industrious
lad. Moreover, his instincts as a naturalist would afterwards be utilized more than once and on
this outset they did not deceive him.

These lithodomes were oblong shells, tightly attached in clusters to the rocks.  They belonged to
that species of molluscous perforators which bore holes in the hardest stones. Their shell is
rounded at both ends, a feature not to be found in the ordinary mussel.

Pencroff and Herbert made a good meal of these lithodomes which were then half opened to the
sun.  They ate them like oysters, and found them to have a strong peppery taste which consoled
them for not having either pepper nor any other sort of condiment.

Their hunger was thus appeased for the moment, but not their thirst, which increased after their
consumption of these naturally spiced mollusks.  They would have to find fresh water and it was
not likely that it would be lacking in a region so randomly capricious.  Pencroff and Herbert filled
their pockets and handkerchiefs with an ample supply of lithodomes.  They then went back to the
foot of the high land.

Two hundred feet further they arrived at this indentation in the coastline where, if Pencroff
guessed correctly, a small river should be flowing.  At this spot the wall appeared to have been
separated by some violent subterranean action. At its base a cove was hollowed out, the far end
forming a very sharp angle.  The watercourse at that point measured one hundred feet in breadth,
and its two banks on each side were barely twenty feet wide.  The watercourse ran almost directly
between the two walls of granite which were not as high upstream; then it turned abruptly and
disappeared under some brushwood at a distance of half a mile.

"Here is water!  There is wood!" said Pencroff.  "Well now, Herbert, all we need is the house!"

The water of the river was clear.  The sailor knew that at this moment of low tide the ocean had
not reached here, and the water would be sweet.  This important point established, Herbert
looked for some cavity which would serve as a retreat but it was useless.  Everywhere the wall
was smooth, flat and perpendicular.

However, at the very mouth of the river, above the line of high tide, there had formed, not a
grotto, but a pile of enormous fallen rocks, such as are often met with in granite countries and
which are called "Chimneys."

Pencroff and Herbert went rather far in among the rocks, in sandy passages where light was not
wanting because it entered by openings among the granite rocks, some of which were supported
only by a miracle of equilibrium.  But with the light the wind also entered - really a corridor wind
- and with the wind the sharp cold from the outside.  However, the sailor thought that by
obstructing certain portions of these passages, by closing some openings with a mixture of stones
and sand, they could make the "Chimneys" habitable.  The geometrical design of the "Chimneys"
resembled the typographical sign "&" which signifies "et cetera" abbreviated.  Now, by isolating
the upper loop of the sign, through which the wind blew from the south and from the west, they
would doubtless succeed in putting the lower part to use.

"Here's our work," said Pencroff, "and if we ever see Mr. Smith again he will know what to make
of this labyrinth."

"We will see him again, Pencroff," cried Herbert, "and when he returns he must find a halfway
decent dwelling here. It will be so if we can build a fireplace in the left passage and keep an
opening for the smoke."

"We can do it, my boy," replied the sailor, "and these chimneys" - that was the name that Pencroff
kept for this temporary home - "will serve us.  But first let us get a stock of fuel.  I imagine that
the wood will not be useless in stopping up these holes through which the very devil himself is
blowing his trumpet."

Herbert and Pencroff left the Chimneys and turning a corner, they began to ascend the left bank of
the river.  The current was rather rapid and carried some dead wood.  The rising tide - and it
could already be felt at this time - must drive it back with force to a rather considerable distance.
It occurred to the sailor that they could use this ebb and flow to transport heavy objects.

After walking for a quarter of an hour the sailor and the young boy reached the sharp bend which
the river made in turning to the left.  From this point its course passed through a forest of
magnificent trees.  These trees had kept their verdure in spite of the advanced season because they
belonged to the family of conifers which grow in all regions of the globe, from the frigid climates
to the tropics.  The young naturalist recognized especially the "deodars," a species very numerous
in the Himalayan zone, which emit an agreeable odor.  Among these fine trees grew clusters of fir
trees whose opaque parasol boughs spread wide around.  In the midst of the tall grass, Pencroff
felt his feet crushing dry branches which crackled like fireworks.

"Good, my boy," he said to Herbert, "if the name of these trees escapes me, I know at least to
classify them in the category of 'firewood' and, for the moment it is the only category that we
need!"

"Let us get some," replied Herbert, who got to work at once.

The collection was easy.  It was not even necessary to break the branches off the trees because
enormous quantities of dead wood were lying at their feet.  But if the fuel was not wanting, the
means of transportation left something to be desired.  This wood, being very dry, would burn
rapidly.  It would therefore be necessary to carry a considerable quantity to the Chimneys and the
load of two men would not suffice. Herbert noted this.

"Well my boy," replied the sailor, "there must be some way of moving this wood.  There is always
a way to do everything!  If we had a cart or a boat it would be quite easy."

"But we have the river!" said Herbert.

"Right" replied Pencroff.  "The river will be for us a road which moves itself and rafts were not
invented for nothing."

"Only" observed Herbert, "at the moment our road is going the wrong way since the tide is
rising."

"We will wait till it ebbs," replied the sailor, "and then it will be responsible for transporting our
fuel to the Chimneys.  Anyhow, let us prepare our raft."

The sailor, followed by Herbert, went towards the bend that the edge of the forest made with the
river.  In proportion to his strength, each carried a load of wood tied in faggots.  On the river's
bank a large quantity of dead branches was also found among grass where the foot of man had
probably never trod.  Pencroff began at once to put his raft together.

In a sort of eddy produced at one point of the bank, which broke the current, the sailor and the
young boy placed some rather large pieces of wood which they had attached together with dried
vines.  It thus formed a sort of raft on which they successively piled up all the collection of wood,
a load for at least twenty men.  In an hour the work was finished and the raft, moored to the bank,
waited for the change in tide.

They had several hours to kill and by common agreement Pencroff and Herbert resolved to climb
to the upper plateau in order to examine the country for a more extended radius.

Two hundred feet beyond the bend formed by the river the wall, terminated by a pile of rocks,
sloped away gently to the border of the forest.  It was like a natural staircase. Herbert and the
sailor began their climb.  Thanks to the strength of their knees they reached the crest in a few
moments and they positioned themselves at the corner above the mouth of the river.

On arriving their first glance was toward this ocean that they had crossed under such terrible
conditions!  They observed with emotion all of the coastline to the north where the catastrophe
had occurred.  It was there that Cyrus Smith had disappeared.  They searched to see if some
wreakage of their balloon, which a man could hang onto, was still floating.  Nothing!  The sea
was a vast desert of water.  As to the coast it too was deserted.  Neither the reporter nor Neb
could be seen there but it was possible that at this moment they were too far away.

"Something tells me," cried Herbert, "that a man as energetic as Mr. Cyrus would not allow
himself to drown like a new born babe.  He must have reached some point on the shore. Isn't it so,
Pencroff?"

The sailor sadly shook his head.  He hardly expected to see Cyrus Smith again, but he wanted to
give Herbert something to hope for.

"Without doubt, without doubt," he said, "our engineer is a man able to get out of a situation
where all others would succumb!..."

However he observed the coast very carefully.  Beneath them was the sandy shore bounded to the
right of the river's mouth by a line of breakers.  These rocks, still emerged, resembled groups of
amphibians lying in the surf.  Beyond the strip of reefs the sea sparkled under the rays of the sun. 
In the south, a sharp point hid the horizon and one could not say if the land was extended in this
direction, or if it oriented itself from southeast to southwest which would have made this coast a
sort of elongated peninsula.  Up to the extreme north of the bay the outline of the shore followed
a more rounded contour.  There the shore was low, flat, without cliffs, and with large sandy
beaches which the ebbing tide had uncovered.

Pencroff and Herbert then turned to the west.  First they saw a mountain topped by snow which
rose at the distance of six or seven miles.  Vast woods extended from the foothills of this
mountain to within two miles of the coast enhanced by large green patches due to the presence of
evergreens.  Then, from the edge of this forest to the coast itself groups of trees were scattered
randomly over a broad plateau.  On the left they saw the waters of a small river sparkle trough
several glades.  It seemed that the river's rather sinuous course led it back toward its source near
the spurs of the mountain.  At the spot where the sailor had left his raft of wood the watercourse
began to flow between the two high granite walls.  If, on the left bank, the wall remained sharp

and abrupt, on the right bank, on the contrary, it sank little by little, the blocks changing to
isolated rocks, the rocks to stones, the stones to pebbles up to the extremity of the point.

"Are we on an island?" murmured the sailor.

"In any case it seems to be rather vast!" replied the young lad.

"An island, however vast, will never be anything but an island!" said Pencroff.

But this important question could not yet be resolved. The answer would have to wait for another
time.  As to the land itself, island or continent, it seemed to be fertile, with a pleasant appearance
and with a varied output.

"That is fortunate," Pencroff noted, "and in our misfortune we should give thanks to Providence."

"God be praised!" responded Herbert, whose pious heart was full of gratitude to the Author of all
things.

For a long while Pencroff and Herbert examined this country on which destiny had thrown them
but it was difficult to guess from this quick inspection what the future had in store for them.

Then they returned following the southern crest of the granite plateau, bordered by capricious
rocks with bizarre shapes.  Several hundred birds lived there nested in holes of the stone. 
Herbert, hopping over the rocks, made a large flock of these winged creatures fly away.

"Ah," he cried, "These are neither sea gulls nor sea mews!"

"Then what are these birds?" asked Pencroff.  "Upon my word, one would say pigeons."

"Quite so, but these are wild pigeons or rock pigeons," replied Herbert.  "I recognize them by the
double black band on their wing, by their white rump, and their ashen blue plumage.  Now, if the
rock pigeon is good to eat their eggs must be excellent if there are still some in their nests!..."

"We will not give them time to hatch if it isn't in the shape of an omelette!" replied Pencroff
gleefully.

"But in what will you make your omelette?" asked Herbert, "In your hat?"

"Well," replied the sailor, "I am not enough of a wizard for that.  We are forced to use eggs in the
shell, my boy, and I will be in charge of disposing of the hardest of them."

Pencroff and the young lad carefully examined the crevices in the granite and they did in fact find
eggs in some of the cavities.  Several dozens were collected, then placed in the sailor's
handkerchief and since it was almost high tide they began to descend to the watercourse.

When they arrived at the bend in the river it was one o'clock in the afternoon.  The current had
already reversed itself.  It was necessary therefore to profit from the ebb to bring the raft of wood
to the river's mouth.  Pencroff had no intention of letting the raft float in the current at random
nor did he intend to board it in order to steer it.  But a sailor is never at a loss when it is a
question of cables or ropes, and Pencroff quickly braided a long rope several

fathoms long by means of dried vines.  This vegetable cable was attached to the back of the raft. 
The sailor wiggled his hand while Herbert pushed the raft back with a long pole, keeping it in the
current.

The procedure succeeded as hoped.  The large load of wood, which the sailor held on to while
walking on the bank, followed the current. The bank was even and there was no reason to fear
that the raft would run aground.  Before two o'clock they arrived at the mouth of the river several
paces from the Chimneys.


CHAPTER V

Arrangement of the Chimneys - The important question of fire - The box of matches - Search on
the shore - Return of the reporter and Neb - A single match! - A crackling fireplace - The first
supper - The first night on land.

After the raft of wood was unloaded Pencroff's first concern was to make the Chimneys habitable
by obstructing those passages through which the wind blew.  Some sand, stones, intertwined
branches and mud hermetically sealed the corridors of the "&c" which were open to the winds
from the south, thus isolating the upper loop.  One passageway only, narrow and winding,
opening on one side, was kept in order to conduct the smoke outside and to induce a draft from
the fireplace.  The Chimneys were thus divided into three or four rooms, if one could give this
name to such gloomy dens with which a wild beast would hardly be content.  But it was dry and
one could stand up, at least in the main room which occupied the center. A fine sand covered the
ground and everything taken into account, they would have to manage until they could find
something better.

While working Herbert and Pencroff chatted.

"Perhaps," said Herbert, "our companions have found a better accommodation than ours?"

"That is possible," replied the sailor, "but doubtful, so don't hold your breath!  It is better to have
one string too many in your bow than no string at all!"

"Ah!" repeated Herbert, "if they could only bring back Mr. Smith when they return, how we
would thank Heaven!"

"Yes," murmured Pencroff.  "That was truly a man!"

"Was..." said Herbert.  "Do you despair of ever seeing him again?"

"God forbid!" replied the sailor.

The arrangements were quickly completed and Pencroff was quite satisfied with them.

"Now," he said, "our friends can return.  They will find a suitable shelter."

It remained to build a fireplace and to prepare a meal, really a simple and easy task.  Some large
flat stones were placed on the ground in the first corridor on the left at the entrance of the narrow
passageway which had been reserved for this purpose.  If the smoke did not draw out too much
heat this would evidently be sufficient to maintain a proper temperature inside.  A load of wood
was stored in one of the rooms and the sailor placed several logs and small pieces of wood on the
rocks of the fireplace.  The sailor was engaged in this work when Herbert asked him if he had any
matches.

"Certainly," replied Pencroff, "and I will add, fortunately, because without matches or tinder we
would have quite a problem!"

"We could always make fire the way the savages do," replied Herbert, "by rubbing two pieces of
dry wood against each other."

"Well, my boy, try it and then see if you can find a better way to break your arms."

"Nevertheless it is a very simple procedure and is often used on the islands of the Pacific."

"I do not say no," replied Pencroff, "but I believe that the savages know just how to do it or that
they use a particular wood because more than once I have tried to make a fire in this way and I
have never succeeded at it.  I admit that I much prefer matches.  By the way, where are my
matches?"

Pencroff searched in his vest for the match box that was always with him because he was a
confirmed smoker.  He did not find it.  He rummaged through his pants pockets and to his
amazement he could not find the box in question.

"This is stupid!  It's more than stupid!" he said looking at Herbert.  "This box must have fallen out
of my pocket and I have lost it!  But you, Herbert, do you have a tinder box or anything that we
can use to make a fire?"

"No, Pencroff."

The sailor went out scratching his forehead followed by the young boy.

Both searched with the greatest care on the beach, among the rocks, near the bank of the river,
but to no avail.  The box was made of copper and should not have escaped their attention.

"Pencroff," asked Herbert, "didn't you throw the box out of the basket?"

"I kept my mind on it," replied the sailor, "but when one has been tossed about like we were, so
small an object can easily disappear.  Even my pipe is gone.  Where can the damn box be?"

"Well, the tide is going down," said Herbert, "let us go round to the spot where we landed."

There was little chance that they would recover this box that the waves had tossed among the
rocks at high tide but it was worth a try under the circumstances.  Herbert and Pencroff ran to the
spot where they had landed earlier about two hundred feet from the Chimneys.

There, among the pebbles, in the cavities of the rocks, they searched carefully.  The result:
nothing.  If the box had

fallen in this vicinity it must have been swept away by the waves.  As the sea went down the sailor
searched every crevice in the rocks without finding anything.  It was a serious loss under the
circumstances and for the moment irreparable.

Pencroff found it hard to hide his disappointment.  His brow wrinkled up.  He didn't say a word. 
Herbert wanted to console him by observing that, very likely, the matches would have been wet
from the sea water and would have been useless.

"But no, my boy," replied the sailor.  "They were in a tightly closed copper box!  And now what
are we to do?"

"We will certainly find some means of making fire," said Herbert.  "Mr. Smith or Mr. Spilett
would not be at a loss like we are."

"Yes," replied Pencroff, "but meanwhile we are without fire and our companions will find a sorry
meal on their return."

"But," said Herbert briskly, "isn't it possible that they have tinder or matches?"

"I doubt it," replied the sailor shaking his head.  "First of all Neb and Mr. Smith do not smoke,
and I really believe that Mr. Spilett would rather save his notebook than his box of matches."

Herbert did not reply.  The loss of the box was obviously a regrettable thing. However, the lad
counted on making a fire by one means or another.  Pencroff, who was more experienced, did not
think so, though he was not a man to be bothered by a small or a large inconvenience.  In any
event, there was only one course to take: wait for the return of Neb and of the reporter.  But it
was necessary to forget about the meal of hard eggs that they had wanted to prepare for them and
a diet of raw meat either for themselves or for the others did not appear to be an agreeable
prospect.

Before returning to the Chimneys the sailor and Herbert collected a new batch of lithodomes in
the event that there definitely would be no fire.  They went back silently on the path to their
dwelling.

Pencroff, his eyes fixed on the ground, was still looking for the lost box.  He even ascended again
the left bank of the river from the mouth to the bend where the raft of wood had been moored. 
He returned to the upper plateau.  He went over it in every direction, he searched among the tall
grass along the border of the forest - all in vain.

It was five o'clock in the evening when Herbert and he returned to the Chimneys.  Needless to say
they rummaged through the darkest corners of the passageways but they definitely had to give up. 
About six o'clock, at the time when the sun was disappearing behind the highlands of the west,
Herbert, who was pacing back and forth on the shore, signaled the return of Neb and of Gideon
Spilett.

They were returning alone!...  His heart skipped a beat. The sailor had not been deceived by his
misgivings.  The engineer Cyrus Smith had not been found!

On arriving the reporter sat down on a rock without saying a word.  Exhausted and dying of
hunger he did not have the strength to say a word.

new tears that he could not hold back showed only too clearly that he had lost all hope!

The reporter told them about the search that they had undertaken to find Cyrus Smith.  Neb and
he had followed the coastline for a distance of more than eight miles and consequently well
beyond the point where the next to the last fall of the balloon occurred, the fall that was followed
by the disappearance of the engineer and the dog Top.  The shore was deserted.  Not a trace, not
a single footprint.  Not a stone recently overturned, not a sign on the sand, no mark of the human
foot on all of this part of the coast.  It was evident that no inhabitant ever frequented this portion
of the shore. The ocean was just as deserted as the beach and it was there, several hundred feet
from shore, that the engineer had met his fate.

Then Neb got up and voiced the sentiments of hope that were bottled up within him:

"No!" he shouted.  "No!  He is not dead!  No!  That cannot be!  He!  Come now!  It might
happen to me or anyone else but him!  Never!  He could get out of any scrape!..."

Then his strength left him.

"Ah!, I can do no more," he murmured.

Herbert ran to him.

"Neb," said the lad, "we will find him!  God will return him!  But now you are hungry.  Eat, eat a
little, I beg you."

And, while speaking, he offered the poor negro a handful of shellfish, a meager and insufficient
nourishment.     Neb had not eaten for many hours but he refused.  Deprived of his master he
could not, he did not want to live!

As to Gideon Spilett, he devoured these mollusks.  Then he lay down on the sand in front of a
rock.  He was worn out but calm.  Herbert came up to him and offered him his hand:

"Sir," he said, "we have discovered a shelter where you will be better off than here.  It is getting
dark.  Get some rest.  Tomorrow we will see..."

The reporter got up and, guided by the lad, he went toward the Chimneys.

Pencroff came over to him and asked him in a casual voice if by chance he had a match on him.

The reporter stopped, looked in his pockets, and didn't find any.  He said, "I had some but I must
have thrown them away..."

The sailor then spoke to Neb.  He asked the same question and got the same reply.

"Damn it!" cried the sailor, who could not hold back this word.  The reporter heard him and going
to Pencroff he said, "You have no matches?"

"Not a single one, and consequently we have no fire!"

"Ah!" shouted Neb, "If my master were here he would know how to make it!"

The four castaways stood there and looked at each other not without some uneasiness.  It was
Herbert who first broke the silence by saying:

"Mister Spilett, you are a smoker.  You always have matches on you.  Perhaps you have not
looked thoroughly.  Look again.  A single match will suffice."

The reporter rummaged again through his pants pockets, his waistcoat, his overcoat and finally to
Pencroff's great joy as well as to his own surprise he felt a piece of wood caught in the lining of
his waistcoat.  His fingers seized this small piece of wood through the fabric but he could not get
it out. Since this was only one match they must not rub the phosphorous.

"Will you let me try it?" the lad asked him.

Very skillfully, without breaking it, he succeeded in removing this small piece of wood, this
wretched and precious flare which for these poor people was of such importance.  It was intact.

"A match!" shouted Pencroff.  "Ah!  It's as if we had a whole cargo!"

He took the match and followed by his companions he went back to the Chimneys.

This small piece of wood which in civilized countries is lavished with indifference and has no
value would have to be used here with extreme care.  The sailor assured himself that it was really
dry.  That done he said, "We need some paper.

"Here," replied Gideon Spilett, who tore out a leaf from his notebook after some hesitation.

Pencroff took the piece of paper that the reporter gave him and he squatted in front of the
fireplace.  There several handfuls of grass, leaves and dry moss were placed under the faggots and
arranged so that the air could easily circulate and the dead wood would catch fire quickly.

Then Pencroff folded the paper in the form of a cone, as smokers do in a high wind, and placed it
among the mosses. Next taking a rather flat stone he wiped it with care.  With his heart beating
fast he gently rubbed the stone without breathing.

The first rubbing produced no effect.  Pencroff had not applied enough pressure fearing that he
would scratch the phosphorous.

"No, I can't do it," he said, "my hand trembles... The match did not catch fire... I cannot... I don't
want to," and getting up he asked Herbert to take his place.

Certainly in all his life the lad had not been so nervous. His heart beat fast.  Prometheus going to
steal fire from Heaven had not been more anxious.  He did not hesitate however and quickly
rubbed the stone.  They heard a sputter then a weak blue flame spurted out producing a sharp
flame.  Herbert gently turned the match so as to feed the flame, then he slipped it into the paper
cone.  The paper caught fire in a few seconds and the moss also caught.

Several moments later the dry wood crackled and a joyful flame, activated by the sailor's vigorous
breath, developed in the midst of the obscurity.

"Finally," shouted Pencroff, getting up.  "I was never so nervous in my life!"

The fire certainly burned well on the fireplace of flat stones.  The smoke went easily through the
narrow passage, the chimney drew the smoke and a pleasant warmth spread out.

As to the fire, they had to take care not to let it burn out and to always keep some embers under
the ashes.  But this was merely a matter of care and attention since there was no shortage of wood
and their supply could always be renewed at their convenience.  Pencroff first intended to use the
fireplace to prepare a supper more nourishing than a dish of lithodomes.  Herbert brought over
two dozen eggs.  The reporter, resting in a corner, watched these preparations without saying a
word.  Three thoughts were on his mind.  Was Cyrus still alive?  If he was alive where could he
be?  If he had survived his fall why had he not made his existence known? As to Neb, he prowled
the beach.  He was a body without a soul.

Pencroff, who knew fifty two ways to make eggs, had no options at the moment.  He had to be
content to introduce them among the warm cinders and to let them harden at a low heat.

In several minutes the baking took effect and the sailor invited the reporter to take his share of the
supper.  Such was the first meal of the castaways on this unknown shore.  These hard eggs were
excellent and since the egg contains all the elements needed for man's nourishment these poor
people found themselves well off and felt strengthened.

Ah! If only one of them had not been missing at this meal! If the five prisoners who escaped from
Richmond could all have been there under this pile of rocks in front of this bright crackling fire on
this dry sand, what thanks they would have given to Heaven!  But the most ingenious, also the
wisest, he who was their unquestioned chief, Cyrus Smith, was missing alas and his body had not
even had a decent burial!

Thus passed the day of March 25.  Night came.  Outside they heard the wind whistling and the
monotonous surf beating against the shore.  The pebbles, tossed around by the waves, rolled
about with a deafening noise.

The reporter retired on the floor of one of the corridors after having quickly noted the incidents of
the day: the first appearance of this new land, the disappearance of the engineer, the exploration
of the coast, the incident with the matches, etc.; and aided by fatigue he succeeded in finding
some sleep.

Herbert slept well.  As to the sailor, he spent the night with one eye on the fire and spared no fuel.

Only one of the castaways did not rest in the Chimneys. It was Neb, forlorn and without hope,
who for the entire night, in spite of the pleadings of his companions to take some rest, wandered
on the shore calling for his master!


CHAPTER VI

The inventory of the castaways - Nothing - Burnt linen - An excursion in the forest - Evergreen
flora - The jacamar escapes - Trace of wild beasts - The couroucous - Grouse - A curious fishing
line.

The inventory of the objects possessed by these castaways from the sky, thrown on a coast that
appeared to be uninhabited, could be promptly established.

They had nothing except for the clothes on their backs at the moment of the catastrophe.  We
should however mention a notebook and a watch that Gideon Spilett had saved inadvertently no
doubt, but not a weapon, not a tool, not even a pocket knife.  The balloon passengers had thrown
everything overboard in order to lighten it.  The imaginary heros of Daniel de Foe or of Wyss, as
well as Selkirk and Raynal, castaways at Juan-Fernandez or the archipelago of Auckland, never
found themselves so absolutely helpless.  They had abundant resources drawn from their stranded
vessels whether in grain, animals, tools, munitions, or else some wreckage had reached the shore
which allowed them to provide for the primary needs of life.  At the start they did not find
themselves absolutely disarmed in the face of nature.  But here, no instrument whatsoever, not a
utensil.  Nothing, they must obtain everything!

If however, Cyrus Smith had been with them, if the engineer had been able to put his practical
science, his inventive spirit to the service of this situation, perhaps all hope would not have been
lost.  Alas!  They could not count on seeing Cyrus Smith again.  The castaways could depend on
no one but themselves and on Providence who never abandons those whose faith is sincere.

But before all else should they settle themselves on this part of the shore without trying to find
out what continent it belonged to, if it was inhabited or if this coast was only the beach of a
deserted island?

It was an important question to be resolved with the briefest delay.  The measures to be taken
would depend on the answer.  However it was Pencroff's advice that it would be better to wait
several days before undertaking an exploration. In fact it was necessary to prepare provisions and
to obtain food more substantial than only eggs and mollusks.  The explorers, having endured long
fatigue, without a shelter for sleeping, would have to refresh themselves before doing anything
else.

The Chimneys offered a sufficient retreat for the time being.  The fire was lit and it would be easy
to save the cinders.  For the moment there was no lack of mollusks and eggs among the rocks and
on the beach.  They would surely find the means to kill some of these pigeons that flew about by
the hundreds at the crest of the plateau using sticks or stones. Perhaps the trees of the nearby
forest would give them edible fruit?  Finally sweet water was there.  It was therefore agreed

that for the next few days they would remain at the Chimneys in order to prepare there for an
exploration either of the coastline or of the interior of the country.

This plan particularly suited Neb.  As stubborn in his ideas as in his forebodings he was in no
hurry to leave this part of the coast, the scene of the catastrophe.  He did not believe, he did not
want to believe that Cyrus Smith was lost. No, it didn't seem possible that such a man met his end
in so vulgar a fashion, carried off by a wave, drowned in the sea only a few hundred feet from
shore.  As long as the waves had not thrown up the body of the engineer, as long as he, Neb, had
not seen with his own eyes, touched with his own hands the corpse of his master, he would not
believe that he was dead. And this idea took root in his obstinate heart more than ever. Illusion
perhaps but a respected illusion nevertheless which the sailor did not wish to destroy.  For him
there was no more hope and the engineer had indeed perished in the waves but with Neb there
was nothing to discuss.  He was like a dog that will not leave the place where his master died and
his grief was such that he probably would not survive him.

On the morning of March 26th, at dawn, Neb went back to the shore in a northerly direction,
returning to where the sea had doubtless closed in on the unfortunate Smith.

Breakfast on this day was composed only of pigeon eggs and of lithodomes.  Herbert had found
some salt left behind in the crevices of the rocks by evaporation and this mineral substance was
put to good use.

The meal finished, Pencroff asked the reporter if he wanted to accompany them to the forest
where Herbert and he would try to hunt.  However, on further reflection it was decided that
someone should stay behind to look after the fire and in the unlikely event that Neb would need
help.  The reporter would therefore stay behind.

"To the hunt, Herbert," said the sailor.  "We will find our munitions along the way and we will fire
our guns in the forest."

But, when they were about to leave, Herbert noted that since they had no tinder it would perhaps
be prudent to replace it with another substance.

"What?" asked Pencroff.

"Burnt linen," replied the lad.  "In a pinch it can serve as tinder."

The sailor found that this advice made sense except that it was inconvenient since it meant the
sacrifice of a piece of handkerchief.  Nevertheless it was worth the trouble and so a piece of
Pencroff's large square handkerchief was soon reduced to a half burnt rag.  This inflammable
material was placed in the central chamber at the bottom of a small cavity in a rock completely
sheltered from wind and dampness.

It was then nine o'clock in the morning.  The weather was threatening and the wind blew from the
southeast.  Herbert and Pencroff turned the corner of the Chimneys not without having thrown a
glance at the smoke which was twirling around from the rocks; then they went up the left bank of
the river.

Arriving at the forest, Pencroff first broke off two sturdy branches which he transformed into
sticks and which Herbert ground down to a point on a rock.  Ah!  If they only had a knife!  Then
the two hunters advanced among the tall grass following the riverbank.  On leaving the bend that
changed its course to the southwest, the river grew narrower little by little and its banks formed a
channel enclosed by a double arc of trees.  Pencroff, not wanting to get lost, resolved to follow
the water's course which would always return him to his starting point.  But the bank was not
without several obstacles, here trees whose flexible branches bent to the level of the water, there
creepers or thorn bushes which they had to break with their sticks.  Often Herbert glided among
the broken stumps with the agility of a young cat and he disappeared into the brushwood.  But
Pencroff recalled him immediately begging him not to go too far.

However, the sailor carefully noted the nature of the surroundings.  On the left bank the soil was
level and rose imperceptibly toward the interior.  Sometimes moist, it then took on a marshy
appearance.  Everywhere they felt an underground network of streams which, by some
subterranean fault, flowed toward the river.  Also at some places a brook flowed through the
brushwood which they crossed without difficulty.  The opposite bank seemed to be more varied
and the valley, of which the river occupied the center, was more sharply patterned.  The hill,
covered by trees of various sizes, formed a curtain which obstructed vision.  On the right bank
walking would have been difficult because of the cavities in the ground and because of the trees
which, curved to the surface of the water, were held in place only by their roots.

Needless to say this forest as well as the bank already travelled over, showed no sign of any
human touch.  Pencroff noted the recent footprints of quadrupedes of a species he did not
recognize.  Most certainly - and this was also Herbert's opinion - they had been left by formidable
wild beasts which they would have to contend with doubtless; but nowhere the mark of a hatchet
on a tree trunk nor the remains of an extinguished fire nor a footprint.  They should perhaps
congratulate themselves because in this part of the Pacific the presence of man was perhaps more
to be feared than desired.

Herbert and Pencroff scarcely spoke because of the great difficulties along the path.  They
advanced very slowly and after an hour they had scarcely gone a mile.  Until then the hunt had not
been productive. However, several birds were chirping and flying about under the branches
showing themselves to be very timid as if man instinctively inspired them with a justifiable fear. 
Among other winged creatures Herbert noted, in a marshy part of the forest, a bird with a sharp
and elongated beak which anatomically resembled a kingfisher. However it was distinguished by
its rather rugged plummage which was coated with a metallic brilliance.

"This must be a 'Jacamar'," said Herbert, trying to close in on the animal.

"It will be quite an occasion to taste jacamar," replied the sailor, "if this bird is in a humor to let
himself be roasted."

At this moment a stone, skillfully and vigorously thrown by the lad, struck the creature as it was
about to fly off but this was not enough because the jacamar flew away at full speed and
disappeared in an instant.  "How clumsy I am," cried Herbert.

"Not at all, my boy," replied the sailor.  "It was a good throw and more than one person would
have missed the bird completely.  Come!  Do not feel frustrated.  We will catch it another day."

The exploration continued.  As the hunters made headway the trees became more spacious and
magnificent but none produced any edible fruit.  Pencroff looked in vain for a few of those
precious palm trees which have so many uses in domestic life and which are found as far as the
fortieth parallel in the northern hemisphere and down to only the thirty fifth parallel in the
southern hemisphere.  But this forest was composed only of conifers such as the deodars, already
recognized by Herbert, of Douglas pines, resembling those growing on the northwest coast of
America, and of admirable spruce measuring a hundred fifty feet in height.

At this moment a flock of small birds with a pretty plumage, with a long and sparkling tail,
scattered themselves among the branches, spreading their weakly attached feathers which covered
the ground with a fine down.  Herbert picked up a few of these feathers and after having
examined them:

"These are 'couroucous'," he said.

"I would prefer a guinea fowl or a grouse cock," replied Pencroff, "but are they good to eat?"

"They are good to eat and their flesh is even tender," replied Herbert.  "Besides, if I am not
mistaken, it is easy to approach them and kill them with a stick."

The sailor and the lad glided among the grass arriving at the foot of a tree whose lower branches
were covered with small birds.  The couroucous were waiting for the passage of insects, which
served as their nourishment.  One could see their feathered feet strongly clenching the sprouts
which served to support them.

The hunters then straightened themselves up and moving their sticks like a scythe, they grazed
entire rows of these couroucous who did not think of flying away and stupidly allowed themselves
to be beaten.  A hundred littered the ground when the others decided to fly.

"Well," said Pencroff, "here is game made for hunters such as ourselves.  We have only to reach
out for it."

On a flexible stick the sailor strung up the couroucous like larks and the exploration continued. 
They noted that the watercourse took a gentle turn southward but this detour could not really be
a prolonged one because the river's source was in the mountain and was fed by the melting snow
which covered the sides of the central cone.

The particular object of this excursion, as we know, was to procure for the hosts of the Chimneys
the largest possible quantity of game.  One could not say that this goal had been attained up to
now.  The sailor actively pursued his search and how he raved when some animal that he did not
even have time to recognize, escaped among the tall grass.  If only they had had the dog Top. 
But Top had disappeared at the same time as his master and had probably perished with him.

About three o'clock in the afternoon they caught a glimpse of new flocks of birds who were
pecking at the aromatic berries of certain trees, junipers among others.  Suddenly, the real sound
of a trumpet was heard in the forest.  It was the strange and loud fanfare made by gallinules which
are called "grouse" in the United States.  Soon they saw several couples, with a variety of brown
and fawn colored plumage, and with a brown tail.  Herbert recognized the males by the two
pointed fins formed by feathers raised on their neck.  Pencroff judged it indispensable to get hold
of one of these gallinules, as big as a hen, and whose flesh is like that of a prairie chicken.  But
this was difficult because they would not allow themselves to be approached.  After several
fruitless attempts, which had no other result than to frighten the grouse, the sailor said to the lad:

"Decidedly, since we can't kill them in flight, we will try to take them with a line."

"Like a fish?" cried Herbert, very surprised at this suggestion.

"Like a fish," the sailor replied seriously.

Pencroff found among the grass a half dozen of the grouse's nests, each having two or three eggs. 
He took great care not to touch these nests to which their proprietors would not fail to return.  It
was around these nests that he intended to stretch his lines - not collar traps but real hook lines.
He took Herbert some distance away from the nests and there he prepared his strange contraption
with the care appropriate to a disciple of Isaac Walton.(1)  Herbert followed this activity with an
interest easy to understand, while doubting its success.  The lines were made of thin creepers
fastened to one another to a length of fifteen to twenty feet.  Some large strong thorns with bent
points, furnished by a dwarf acacia bush, were tied to the ends of the creepers to take the place of
hooks.  As an allurement some large red worms, which were crawling on the ground, were put on
the thorns.

That done, Pencroff moved among the grass skillfully concealing himself, placing the end of his
lines with baited hooks near the grouse's nests.  Then he returned taking the other end and
concealing himself with Herbert behind a large tree.  Both then waited patiently.  Herbert, it
should be said, did not count much on the success of the inventive Pencroff.

(1) Celebrated author of a treatise on fishing with a line.

A long half hour passed but, as predicted by the sailor, several couples of grouse returned to their
nests.  They hopped, pecked the ground, and gave no sign that they suspected the presence of the
hunters who had taken care to place themselves to the leeward of the gallinules.

Certainly at this moment the lad was very attentive.  He held his breath and Pencroff staring, his
mouth open, his lips protruding as if he was about to taste a piece of grouse, was hardly
breathing.  However the gallinules walked among the hooks without noticing them.  Pencroff then
made small jerks which moved the bait as if the worms were still alive.

Assuredly at this moment the sailor felt an emotion greater than that of the fisherman.  The latter
does not see his prey approaching in the water.

The jerks soon attracted the attention of the gallinules and they pecked at the hooks.  Three
grouse, doubtless very voracious, swallowed both the bait and the hook.  Suddenly with a quick
movement, Pencroff sprung his trap and the flapping of the wings indicated to him that the birds
had been taken.

"Hurrah!" he shouted, dashing toward the game which he made himself master of in an instant.

Herbert clapped his hands.  It was the first time he had seen birds taken with a line but the sailor
very modestly told him that it was not his first try and not his invention.

"And in any case," he added, "in the situation that we find ourselves, we must depend on
measures such as these."

The grouse were tied by their feet and Pencroff, happy that he was not returning with empty
hands, and seeing that the day was coming to an end, decided to return to his dwelling.

The path to follow was indicated by the river, there being no question of which direction, and at
about six o'clock, rather tired from their excursion, Herbert and Pencroff again entered the
Chimneys.


CHAPTER VII

The reporter's reflections - Supper - Neb has not yet returned -  A bad night coming on - A
frightful storm - Departure during the night - Struggling against the rain and the wind - Eight
miles from the first encampment.

Gideon Spilett, motionless, his arms crossed, was on the beach looking at the sea whose horizon
was obscured in the east by a large black cloud that was rapidly moving towards the zenith.  The
wind was already strong and becoming fresher with the decline of day.  The sky looked bad and
the first symptoms of a storm were apparent.

Herbert entered the Chimneys and Pencroff went to the reporter.  The latter, very absorbed, did
not see him come.

"We are going to have a bad night, Mister Spilett!" said the sailor.  "Rain and wind are the joy of
petrels." (1) 

(1) Sea birds who especially enjoy a storm.

The reporter, then turning, saw Pencroff and his first words were these:

"At what distance from the coast would you say the basket was when it was struck by the wave
which carried off our companion?"

The sailor had not expected this question.  He reflected for a moment and replied:

"At two cables length at most."

"But what is a cable length?" asked Gideon Spilett.

"About one hundred twenty fathoms or six hundred feet."

"Then," said the reporter, "Cyrus Smith disappeared twelve hundred feet at most from the shore?"

"About," replied Pencroff.

"And his dog also?"

"Also."

"What astonishes me," added the reporter, "while admitting that our companion has perished, is
that Top has likewise met his end and that neither the body of the dog nor that of his master has
been thrown on shore."

"It is not astonishing with such a strong sea," replied the sailor.  "Besides, it is possible that the
current has carried them further along the coast."

"Thus it is your opinion that our companion has perished among the waves?" the reporter asked
again.

"That is my opinion."

"My opinion," said Gideon Spilett, "much as I respect your experience, Pencroff, is that the
double fact of the absolute disappearance of Cyrus and Top, living or dead, is an inexplicable
thing and improbable."

"I wish I could think like you, Mister Spilett," replied Pencroff, "unfortunately my mind is made
up."

That said, the sailor returned to the Chimneys.  A good fire crackled on the hearth.  Herbert threw
an armful of dry wood on it and the flame shed light into the gloomy parts of the passageway. 
Pencroff occupied himself at once with preparing dinner.  It seemed best to introduce into the
menu some "piŠce de r‚sistance" because everyone needed to renew his strength.  The strings of
couroucous were saved for the next day but they plucked two grouse and soon the gallinules were
roasting on a spit in front of a flaming fire.

At seven o'clock in the evening Neb had not yet returned. This prolonged absence could only
make Pencroff uneasy about the negro.  They were forced to believe that he had met with some
accident on this unknown land or that the unfortunate had performed some act of despair.  But
Herbert drew totally different conclusions from this absence.  According to him, if Neb had not
yet returned, it was due to some new circumstance which caused him to prolong his search.  Now
anything new could only be to Cyrus Smith's advantage.  Why had Neb not returned unless some
hope retained him?  Perhaps he had found some indication, a footprint, the remains of a wreck
which put him on the track?  Perhaps at this very moment he was following a certain clue? 
Perhaps he was even near his master?...

Thus reasoned the lad.  Thus he spoke.  His companions let him speak.  The reporter alone
approved with a gesture.  But for Pencroff it was probable that Neb had gone further than the
previous day in his search along the coast and that he could not yet return.

However, Herbert was agitated by vague premonitions and several times he wanted to go to meet
Neb.  But Pencroff made him understand that it would be a useless course, that in this obscurity
and because of the deplorable weather, he could not find traces of Neb, and that it was worth
waiting.  If by the next day Neb had not reappeared, Pencroff would not hesitate to join Herbert
in going to search for Neb.

On this point Gideon Spilett agreed with he sailor that they must not separate and Herbert had to
give up his project; but two large tears fell from his eyes.

The reporter could not refrain from embracing the generous lad.

The bad weather had absolutely broken out.  A violent southeast windstorm without equal passed
over the coast.  They heard the sea, then at low tide, roar against the leading rocks on the beach. 
The rain, pulverized by the storm, rose up like a wet mist.  Wisps of fog dragged along the shore
where pebbles rattled violently like cartloads emptying themselves.  The sand, lifted by the wind,
mashed into showers and made the assault indefensible.  There was just as much mineral dust in
the air as water vapor.  Large eddies swirled between the mouth of the river and the face of the
wall and the stratum of air that escaped from this maelstrom could find no exit other than the
narrow valley whose watercourse was engulfed with a irresistible violence.  The smoke from the
hearth, restricted by the narrow passageway, backed up frequently, filling the corridors and
rendering them uninhabitable.

That is why, as soon as the grouse were roasted, Pencroff let the fire die down, conserving
nothing but the embers buried under the cinders.

At eight o'clock Neb has still not reappeared; but they could now assume that it was the awful
weather alone that prevented his return and that he had found refuge in some hollow to wait out
the end of the storm or at least the return of day.  As to going to meet him, to attempt to find him
under these conditions, this was impossible.

The game formed the only dish of supper.  They gladly ate this meat which was excellent. 
Pencroff and Herbert, whose appetites were excited by their long excursion, were ravenous.

Then each retired to the corner where he had rested the previous night, and Herbert was not long
in falling asleep near the sailor who stretched out along the length of the hearth.

Outside, as the night advanced, the tempest took on formidable proportions.  It was a windstorm
comparable to the one that carried the prisoners from Richmond to this land in the Pacific. 
Tempests are frequent during the equinoctial season.  They are fruitful in producing terrible
catastrophes throughout this large area where there are no obstacles to oppose their fury.  One
can then understand that a coast so exposed to the east, that is to say in direct line with the storm
and struck headlong, was battered by a force that cannot be described.

Very fortunately, the pile of rocks which formed the Chimneys was sturdy.  It was composed of
enormous sections of granite of which a few, nevertheless, not being in sufficient balance, seemed
to tremble on their base.  Pencroff sensed this and pressing his hand against the walls felt the rapid
quiverings.  But finally he said to himself over and over, and with reason, that there was nothing
to fear and that his improvised retreat would not cave in.  Nevertheless he heard the clatter of the
rocks which, detached from the summit of the plateau and uprooted by the swirling wind, fell on
the beach. A few even rolled as far as the upper part of the Chimneys or broke into splinters when
they fell straight down.  Twice the sailor got up and crawled to the opening of the passageway to
look outside.  But these falls which were not considerable did not constitute any danger and he
returned to his place in front of the fire whose embers were sputtering under the cinders.

Despite the furies of the hurricane, the roar of the tempest, the thunder of the storm, Herbert was
in a deep sleep. Sleep finally took possession even of Pencroff since a seaman's life had
accustomed him to all these violences.  Gideon Spilett alone was wide awake because of the
commotion.  He reproached himself for not having accompanied Neb.  One could see that all hope
had not abandoned him.  The misgivings that had agitated Herbert did not cease to agitate him
also.  His thoughts were concentrated on Neb.  Why had Neb not returned?  He tossed on his bed
of sand hardly giving a thought to the battle of the elements.  At times his eyes, heavy with
fatigue, closed for an instant but some cursory thought reopened them almost at once.

However the night advanced and it may have been two o'clock in the morning when Pencroff,
then in a deep sleep, was shaken vigorously.

"What is it?" he cried, awakening and recollecting his thoughts with a promptitude typical of
seamen.

The reporter was leaning over him and said to him:

"Listen Pencroff, listen!"

The sailor cocked his ear but could not distinguish any sound foreign to that of the squall.

"It is the wind," he said.

"No," replied Gideon Spilett, listening again.  "I thought that I heard..."

"What?"

"A dog barking!"

"A dog!" cried Pencroff, getting up in a single bound.

"Yes... barking..."

"That isn't possible!" replied the sailor.  "And besides, how with the roar of the storm..."

"Wait... Listen..." said the reporter.

Pencroff listened more attentively and in fact he thought that he heard a distant barking in a quiet
moment.

"Well!..." said the reporter, pressing the sailor's hand.

"Yes... Yes!..." replied Pencroff.

"It's Top!... It's Top!..." shouted Herbert, just awakening, and all three dashed toward the
entrance to the Chimneys.

They left with extreme difficulty.  The wind drove them back.  But finally they succeeded
although they could not stand erect without resting against the rocks.  They saw but they could
not speak.

The obscurity was absolute.  The sea, the sky, the ground were merged in equal darkness.  It
seemed that there was not an atom of light in the sky.

For several minutes the reporter and his two companions remained so, crushed by the storm,
drenched by the rain, blinded by the sand.  Then they heard the barking once again during a
respite in the storm, which came from rather far away.

It could only be Top barking this way!  But was he alone or accompanied?  Most likely he was
alone because if they assumed that Neb was with him, Neb would have gone with all speed
toward the Chimneys.

Since he could not make himself heard the sailor pressed the hand of the reporter as if to say:
"Wait!"  Then he re- entered the corridor.

An instant later he came out again with a lighted faggot which lit up the gloom.  He whistled
sharply.

It seemed as if this signal was expected.  In response the barking came much nearer and soon a
dog dashed into the corridor.  Pencroff, Herbert and Gideon Spilett followed him there.

An armful of dry wood was thrown on the embers.  A vivid flame lit up the corridor.

"It's Top!" shouted Herbert.

In fact it was Top, a magnificent anglo-norman crossbreed who inherited from both species speed
and odor sensitivity, the two qualities par excellence of the hunting dog.

It was the dog of the engineer Cyrus Smith.

But he was alone!  Neither his master nor Neb accompanied him!

Moreover how had his instinct been able to lead him to the Chimneys which he did not know? 
This appeared inexplicable especially on such a dark night, and in such a storm!  An even more
inexplicable detail was that Top was neither fatigued nor exhausted, not even soiled with mud or
sand!...

Herbert went toward him and pressed his head between his hands.  The dog rubbed his neck on
the lad's hands.

"If the dog has been found the master will also be found!" said the reporter.

"God will it!" replied Herbert.  "Let us leave!  Top will guide us!"

Pencroff made no objection.  He felt that Top's arrival contradicted his conjectures.

"Let's go," he said.

Pencroff carefully covered the embers of the fire.  He placed several pieces of wood under the
cinders so that the fire could be rekindled on their return.  Then, preceded by the dog who seemed
to invite them with short barks, and followed by the reporter and the lad, he dashed outside after
having taken the remains of the supper.

The storm was then in all its violence and perhaps even at its maximum intensity.  No moonlight
filtered through the clouds since the moon was then new and as a consequence in conjunction
with the sun.  It was difficult to follow a straight course.  It was best to rely on Top's instinct. 
This is what was done.  The reporter and the lad followed behind the dog and the sailor brought
up the rear.  No exchange of words was possible.  The rain did not fall very abundantly because it
was pulverized by the blast of the storm but the storm was terrible.

However one circumstance very happily favored the sailor and his two companions.  The wind in
fact blew from the southeast and consequently it pushed them from the back.  The sand which
was violently thrown about and which would not have been bearable, hit them from the rear, and
provided no one turned around, it did not interfere with their journey.  In summation they often
went faster than they wanted.  It affected their walk almost to the point of throwing them down
but an immense hope doubled their efforts and it was no longer at random this time that they
ascended the shore.  They had no doubt that Neb had found his master and had sent the faithful
dog to them.  But was the engineer living or was Neb only summoning his companions to render
the last rites to the body of the unfortunate Smith?

After going beyond the cut slab of the highland which they prudently side stepped, Herbert, the
reporter and Pencroff stopped to catch their breath.  The turn of the cliff sheltered them from the
wind and they caught their breath after this march of a quarter of an hour which had been
something of a race.

At this moment they could hear and reply and the lad pronounced the name of Cyrus Smith.  Top
barked in short barks as if he wanted to say that his master was rescued.

"Saved, isn't he?" repeated Herbert, "Saved, Top?"

And the dog barked as if in response.

The march was resumed.  It was about half past two in the morning.  The sea began to rise and
driven by the wind this tide, which was an equinoctial tide, threatened to be very strong.  The
large waves boomed against the reef and assailed it with such violence that very likely it would
pass over the islet, then completely invisible.  This long barrier could therefore no longer protect
the coast which was directly exposed to the onslaught of the open sea.

As soon as the sailor and his companions left the cut slab behind, the wind struck them anew with
an extreme fury.  Bent and straining their backs against the squall, they moved very quickly
following Top who did not hesitate as to the direction to take.  They went north having on their
right an interminable crest of waves which broke with a deafening roar and on their left an
obscure land the aspect of which it was impossible to know.  But they sensed that it was relatively
flat because the wind now passed over them without turning them about, an effect which was
produced when it struck them at the granite wall.

At four o'clock in the morning they estimated that a distance of five miles had been covered.  The
clouds were slightly higher and did not drag the ground.  The squall, less humid, moving in very
brisk currents, was drier and colder. Insufficiently protected by their clothing, Pencroff, Herbert
and Gideon Spilett suffered cruelly but not a complaint escaped their lips.  They had decided to
follow Top wherever the intelligent animal wanted to lead them.

About five o'clock day began to break.  First, at the zenith, where the haze was not so dense,
several grayish hues delineated the border of the clouds and soon, beneath an opaque band, a
more luminous stretch clearly outlined the water's horizon.  The crest of waves had a light brown
glimmer and the foam was white.  At the same time, on the left, the random parts of the coast
began to loom up vaguely, but it was still in the gray of the night.

At six o'clock in the morning day broke.  The clouds moved rapidly to a relatively higher
elevation.  The sailor and his companions were then about six miles from the Chimneys.  They
followed a very flat shoreline bordered on the open sea by a line of rocks whose tops alone
emerged.  On the left the country was composed of several uneven dunes bristling with thistles,
offering a rather savage aspect in a vast sandy region.  The shoreline was not indented and
offerred no barrier to the ocean other than an irregular chain of hillocks.  Here and there one or
two twisted trees were bent toward the west, with their branches projecting in this direction.  Well
behind them, in the southwest, appeared the edge of the forest.

At this moment Top gave unequivocal signs of agitation. He went on ahead and returned to the
sailor as if urging him to hasten his steps.  The dog had then left the beach and, driven on by an
admirable instinct, without showing a moment's hesitation, he entered among the dunes.

They followed him.  The country appeared to be absolutely deserted.  Not a living being
anywhere.

The very extensive area of the dunes was composed of hillocks and even of randomly distributed
hills.  It was like a miniature Switzerland in sand and nothing less than a prodigious instinct could
recognize it.

Five minutes after having left the beach the reporter and his companions arrived in front of a sort
of excavation hollowed out in the rear of a high dune.  There Top stopped and barked loud and
clear.  Spilett, Herbert and Pencroff dashed into the cave.

Neb was there kneeling next to a body lying on a bed of grass...  The body was that of the
engineer Cyrus Smith.


CHAPTER VIII

Is Cyrus Smith living? - Neb's recital - Footprints - An unresolved question - Cyrus Smith's first
words - The identification of footprints - Return to the Chimneys - Pencroff overwhelmed.

Neb did not move.  The sailor said only one word to him.

"Living?" he cried.

Neb did not reply.  Gideon Spilett and Pencroff turned pale.  Herbert clasped his hands and
remained immobile.  But it was evident that the poor negro, absorbed in his grief, had neither seen
his companions nor heard the sailor's words.

The reporter knelt next to the motionless body and placed his ear on the chest of the engineer
after having half-opened his garment.  A minute - a century - passed, during which he tried to
detect some heartbeat.

Neb had straightened up a bit and stared without seeing. Despair could not have changed a man's
face more.  Neb was unrecognizable, exhausted by fatigue, broken by pain.  He believed his
master dead.  Gideon Spilett got up after a long and careful examination.

"He lives!" he said.

Pencroff, in his turn, knelt next to Cyrus Smith; his ear also detected some heartbeats and some
breath that escaped from the engineer's lips.

On a word from the reporter Herbert ran outside to look for water.  A hundred feet away he
found a clear stream, evidently very swollen by the rains of the previous evening, which filtered
through the sand.  But there was nothing in which to carry this water, not a shell among these
dunes.  The lad had to content himself with dipping his handkerchief into the stream, and he ran
back to the cave.

Fortunately the soaked handkerchief was sufficient for Gideon Spilett who wanted only to wet the
engineer's lips. These molecules of cool water produced an almost immediate effect.  A sigh
escaped from Cyrus Smith's chest and it even appeared that he was trying to say a few words.

"We will save him!" said the reporter.

At these words Neb recovered hope.  He undressed his master in order to see if the body showed
any wound.  Neither the head nor the torso nor the limbs had any contusions, not even any
scratches, a surprising thing, since the engineer's body must have been tossed around the rocks. 
Even the hands were intact, and it was difficult to explain how the engineer showed no trace of
the efforts he must have made to get past the reef.

But the explanation of these circumstances would come later.  When Cyrus Smith would be able
to speak he would tell what had happened.  For the moment they must recall him to life and it was
likely that rubbing would bring on this result. This is what was done with the sailor's pea jacket. 
The engineer, warmed by this rough massage, moved his hands

slightly and his respiration began to re-establish itself in a more regular fashion.  He was dying of
exhaustion and certainly without the arrival of the reporter and his companions it would have been
all over for Cyrus Smith.

"You therefore thought that your master was dead?" the sailor asked Neb.

"Yes!  Dead!" replied Neb, "and if Top had not found you, if you had not come, I would have
buried my master and I would have died beside him!"

One could see on what the life of Cyrus Smith had depended!

Neb related what had happened.  The day before, after having left the Chimneys at daybreak, he
went along the coast in a northeasterly direction and reached the point on the shore that he had
already visited.

There, without any hope he admitted, Neb searched on the shore, among the rocks, on the sand,
for the least indication to guide him.  He had especially examined the part of the shore that the
high tide had not reached because on the beach the rise and fall of the tide had erased all indices. 
Neb no longer hoped to find his master living.  It was to discover a cadaver that he went, a
cadaver that he wanted to bury with his own hands!

Neb searched for a long time.  His efforts remained fruitless.  It did not seem that this deserted
coast had ever been frequented by a human being.  Those shells that the sea had not reached - and
which could be seen by the millions above the tideline - were intact.  Not a crushed shell.  In a
zone of two to three hundred yards (1) not a trace of a landing existed neither past nor present.

Neb then decided to go along the coast for several miles. It is possible that currents can carry a
body to a far point. When a cadaver floats a short distance from a straight shore it is rare when
the waves do not reject it sooner or later.  Neb knew this and he wanted to see his master one last
time.

"I ran along the shore for two more miles.  I visited the entire reef line at low tide, the entire
beach at high tide, and I despaired of finding anything when yesterday, about five o'clock in the
evening, I noted footprints in the sand."

"Footprints?" cried Pencroff.

"Yes!" replied Neb.

"And did these footprints begin at the reef?" asked the reporter.

"No," replied Neb, "at the high water mark only, because those between the high water mark and
the reef were effaced."

"Continue, Neb," said Gideon Spilett.

"When I saw these prints I became insane.  They were very distinct and went toward the dunes. 
Running, I followed them for a quarter of a mile but taking care not to erase them. Five minutes
later, as night was coming on, I heard a dog barking.  It was Top, and Top led me here to my
master."

(1) The yard is an American measure of length which equals 0.9144 meters.

Neb finished his recital by telling them about his grief on finding this inanimate body.  He tried to
detect some sign of life in him.  Now that he had found him dead he wanted him alive.  All his
efforts were useless.  Nothing remained but to render the last rites to him that he loved so much.

Neb then thought of his companions.  Doubtless they would want to see the unfortunate for one
last time.  Top was there. Couldn't he count on the shrewdness of the faithful animal? Neb
pronounced the reporter's name several times, the one that Top knew best of the engineer's
companions.  Then he pointed to the south of the shore and the dog darted off in the direction
that was indicated to him.

We already know how, guided by an instinct that could almost be regarded as supernatural
because the animal had never been to the Chimneys, Top nevertheless arrived there.

Neb's companions carefully listened to this recital.  It astonished them that Cyrus Smith, after the
efforts he must have made to escape the waves and get past the reef, did not even show a scratch. 
And what was also unexplainable was that the engineer had been able to get to this out of the way
cave in the middle of dunes more than a mile from the coast.

"Thus, Neb," said the reporter, "it wasn't you who brought your master to this place?"

"No, it was not I," replied Neb.

"It is obvious that Mr. Smith came here alone," said Pencroff.

"It is obvious," noted Gideon Spilett, "but it is not believable!"

They could only get the explanation of this fact from the engineer himself.  They would have to
wait until speech returned to him.  Fortunately life was already recovering its rhythm.  The
massage had reestablished the circulation of the blood.  Cyrus Smith moved his arms again, then
his head, and several incomprehensible words escaped from his lips.

Neb, bending over him, called him, but the engineer did not seem to hear and his eyes were still
closed.  Life revealed itself only by movement.  The senses still played no part in it.

Pencroff was very sorry to have no fire nor the means for procuring it because he had
unfortunately forgotten to take the burnt linen which would have been easy to ignite by striking
two flintstones.  As to the engineer's pockets, they were absolutely empty except for his vest
which contained his watch. They must transport Cyrus Smith to the Chimneys as soon as possible. 
All agreed.

Moreover the care which was lavished on the engineer was making his recovery more rapid than
they had dared to hope. The water with which they wet his lips was reviving him little by little. 
Pencroff had the idea of mixing with this water some of the gravy from the flesh of the grouse that
he had taken along.  Herbert, running to the shore, returned with two large bivalve shells.  The
sailor made a sort of mixture and introduced it between the lips of the engineer, who seemed
eager to suck this mash.

His eyes then opened.  Neb and the reporter were bent over him.  "My master!  My Master!"
shouted Neb.

The engineer heard him.  He recognized Neb and Spilett, then his two other companions, Herbert
and the sailor and his hand lightly pressed theirs.

Several words again escaped from his mouth - words that he had doubtless already pronounced
and which indicated the thoughts that were even then tormenting his mind.  This time these words
were understood.  "Island or continent?" he murmured.

"Ah," cried Pencroff, who could not hold back this exclamation.  "By all the devils we couldn't
care less provided you are alive, Mister Cyrus!  Island or continent?  We will see later."

The engineer made a slight affirmative sign and appeared to sleep.  They respected this sleep and
the reporter immediately made arrangements to have the engineer transported under the best
conditions.  Neb, Herbert and Pencroff left the cave and made their way toward a high dune
crowned with some rickety trees.  On the way the sailor could not help repeating:

"Island or continent!  To think of that when one has only a breath.  What a man!"

Arriving at the top of the dune, Pencroff and his two companions, without any tools but their
hands, stripped off the main branches from a rather sickly tree, a sort of maritime pine emaciated
by the wind; then with these branches they made a litter which, once covered with foliage and
grass, would permit them to transport the engineer.

It took about forty minutes and it was ten o'clock when the sailor, Neb and Herbert returned to
Cyrus Smith whom Gideon Spilett had not left.

The engineer was then up from his sleep or rather from this drowsiness in which they had found
him.  The color returned to his cheeks which had had the pallor of death.  He got up a little,
looked around him, and seemed to ask where he was.

"Can you listen to me without tiring yourself, Cyrus?" asked the reporter.

"Yes," replied the engineer.

"I would suggest," the sailor then said, "That Mister Smith could listen to you much better if he
had more of this grouse jelly - because it is grouse, Mister Cyrus," he added, presenting him some
of this jelly to which this time he added some scraps of flesh.

Cyrus Smith chewed bits of grouse the remainder of which was distributed to his four companions
who suffered from hunger.  They found the meal rather meager.

"Good," said the sailor, "we have provisions waiting for us at the Chimneys, because it is well for
you to know, Mister Cyrus, we have down there in the south a house with rooms, beds and a
fireplace and in the pantry some dozens of birds which our Herbert calls couroucous.  Your litter
is ready and as soon as you feel strong enough we will transport you to our dwelling.

"Thanks, my friend," replied the engineer, "in an hour or two we will be able to leave... and now,
speak, Spilett."

The reporter then told him all that had occurred.  He related those events not known to Cyrus
Smith, the last fall of the balloon, setting foot on this unknown land which appeared deserted
whether it was an island or a continent, the discovery of the Chimneys, the search to find the
engineer, Neb's devotion, all that they owed to the intelligence of the faithful Top, etc.

"But," asked Cyrus Smith in a voice still weak, "you therefore did not pick me up at the beach?"

"No," replied the reporter.

"And it wasn't you who brought me to this cave?"

"No."

"At what distance is this cave from the reef?"

"About half a mile," replied Pencroff, "and if you are astonished, Mister Cyrus, we are no less
surprised ourselves to see you in this place!"

"In fact," replied the engineer, who was reviving little by little and taking an interest in these
details, "in fact, there is something peculiar!"

"But," responded the sailor, "can you tell us what happened after you were carried away by the
wave?"

Cyrus Smith tried to remember. He knew little.  The wave had torn him from the ropes of the
balloon.  At first he sank several fathoms into the deep.  Returning to the surface of the sea, he
felt a living being moving near him in the semi- obscurity.  It was Top who threw himself in to
come to his aid. On raising his eyes he could no longer see the balloon which, relieved of his
weight and that of the dog, had shot away like an arrow.  He found himself among angry waves
not less than a half mile from shore.  He tried to battle the waves and swam vigorously.  Top held
him up by his clothes but a strong current seized him and pushed him northward and after a half
hour of struggling he sank dragging Top with him to the abyss. From that time until the moment
when he found himself in the arms of his friends he remembered nothing.

"However," said Pencroff, "you must have been thrown on the beach and you must have had the
strength to come here since Neb found your footprints!"

"Yes... that must be it..." replied the engineer, reflecting.  "And you did not see traces of human
beings on this shore?"

"No trace," replied the reporter.  "Besides, if by chance some rescuer ran into you there why
would he have abandoned you after having plucked you from the waves?"

"You are right, my dear Spilett.  "Tell me Neb," added the engineer turning to his servant, "it was
not you who... you did not have a forgetful moment... during which... No, that is absurd... Are
there any other footprints?" asked Cyrus Smith.

"Yes, my master," replied Neb, "here at the entrance which is at the back of this dune sheltered
from the wind and the rain.  The others have been erased by the storm."

"Pencroff," responded Cyrus Smith, "would you take my shoes and see if they positively fit these
footprints?"

The sailor did what the engineer asked.  Herbert and he, guided by Neb, went to check the
footprints while Cyrus said to the reporter: "These events are inexplicable!"

"Inexplicable indeed!" replied Gideon Spilett.

 "But let us not dwell on it at the moment, my dear Spilett.  We will discuss it later."

An instant later the sailor, Neb and Herbert returned.

There was no doubt possible.  The engineer's shoes fit the remaining footprints exactly.  Therefore
it was Cyrus Smith who had left them in the sand.

"So then," he said, "it was I who experienced this hallucination, this absence which I attributed to
Neb!  I moved like a sleepwalker without being conscious of my steps and it was Top who
instinctively led me here after having dragged me from the waves... Come Top!  Come my dog!"

The magnificent animal ran to his master, barking, and the caresses were not spared.

They agreed that there was no other explanation to be given to the events that led up to Cyrus
Smith's rescue and that all honor belonged to Top.

Around noontime Pencroff asked Cyrus Smith if he was ready to travel.  With an effort that
attested to a very energetic will, Cyrus Smith responded by getting up.  But he had to lean on the
sailor or he would have fallen.

"Good!  Good!" said