Chapter 14

The next day, the 16th of April, and Easter Sunday, the settlers issued

from the Chimneys at daybreak, and proceeded to wash their linen. The

engineer intended to manufacture soap as soon as he could procure the

necessary materials--soda or potash, fat or oil. The important question

of renewing their wardrobe would be treated of in the proper time and

place. At any rate their clothes would last at least six months longer,

for they were strong, and could resist the wear of manual labor. But

all would depend on the situation of the island with regard to inhabited

land. This would be settled to-day if the weather permitted.

The sun rising above a clear horizon, announced a magnificent day, one

of those beautiful autumn days which are like the last farewells of the

warm season.

It was now necessary to complete the observations of the evening before

by measuring the height of the cliff above the level of the sea.

“Shall you not need an instrument similar to the one which you used

yesterday?” said Herbert to the engineer.

“No, my boy,” replied the latter, “we are going to proceed differently,

but in as precise a way.”

Herbert, wishing to learn everything he could, followed the engineer to

the beach. Pencroft, Neb, and the reporter remained behind and occupied

themselves in different ways.

Cyrus Harding had provided himself with a straight stick, twelve feet

long, which he had measured as exactly as possible by comparing it with

his own height, which he knew to a hair. Herbert carried a plumb-line

which Harding had given him, that is to say, a simple stone fastened

to the end of a flexible fiber. Having reached a spot about twenty feet

from the edge of the beach, and nearly five hundred feet from the cliff,

which rose perpendicularly, Harding thrust the pole two feet into

the sand, and wedging it up carefully, he managed, by means of the

plumb-line, to erect it perpendicularly with the plane of the horizon.

That done, he retired the necessary distance, when, lying on the sand,

his eye glanced at the same time at the top of the pole and the crest of

the cliff. He carefully marked the place with a little stick.

Then addressing Herbert--“Do you know the first principles of geometry?”

he asked.

“Slightly, captain,” replied Herbert, who did not wish to put himself

forward.

“You remember what are the properties of two similar triangles?”

“Yes,” replied Herbert; “their homologous sides are proportional.”

“Well, my boy, I have just constructed two similar right-angled

triangles; the first, the smallest, has for its sides the perpendicular

pole, the distance which separates the little stick from the foot of the

pole and my visual ray for hypothenuse; the second has for its sides

the perpendicular cliff, the height of which we wish to measure, the

distance which separates the little stick from the bottom of the

cliff, and my visual ray also forms its hypothenuse, which proves to be

prolongation of that of the first triangle.”

“Ah, captain, I understand!” cried Herbert. “As the distance from the

stick to the pole is to the distance from the stick to the base of the

cliff, so is the height of the pole to the height of the cliff.”

“Just so, Herbert,” replied the engineer; “and when we have measured the

two first distances, knowing the height of the pole, we shall only have

a sum in proportion to do, which will give us the height of the cliff,

and will save us the trouble of measuring it directly.”

The two horizontal distances were found out by means of the pole, whose

length above the sand was exactly ten feet.

The first distance was fifteen feet between the stick and the place

where the pole was thrust into the sand.

The second distance between the stick and the bottom of the cliff was

five hundred feet.

These measurements finished, Cyrus Harding and the lad returned to the

Chimneys.

The engineer then took a flat stone which he had brought back from one

of his previous excursions, a sort of slate, on which it was easy

to trace figures with a sharp shell. He then proved the following

proportions:--

15:500::10:x

500 x 10 = 5000

5000 / 15 = 333.3

From which it was proved that the granite cliff measured 333 feet in

height.

Cyrus Harding then took the instrument which he had made the evening

before, the space between its two legs giving the angular distance

between the star Alpha and the horizon. He measured, very exactly, the

opening of this angle on a circumference which he divided into 360 equal

parts. Now, this angle by adding to it the twenty-seven degrees which

separated Alpha from the antarctic pole, and by reducing to the level of

the sea the height of the cliff on which the observation had been made,

was found to be fifty-three degrees. These fifty-three degrees being

subtracted from ninety degrees--the distance from the pole to the

equator--there remained thirty-seven degrees. Cyrus Harding concluded,

therefore, that Lincoln Island was situated on the thirty-seventh degree

of the southern latitude, or taking into consideration through the

imperfection of the performance, an error of five degrees, that it must

be situated between the thirty-fifth and the fortieth parallel.

There was only the longitude to be obtained, and the position of the

island would be determined, The engineer hoped to attempt this the same

day, at twelve o’clock, at which moment the sun would pass the meridian.

It was decided that Sunday should be spent in a walk, or rather an

exploring expedition, to that side of the island between the north of

the lake and Shark Gulf, and if there was time they would push their

discoveries to the northern side of Cape South Mandible. They would

breakfast on the downs, and not return till evening.

At half-past eight the little band was following the edge of the

channel. On the other side, on Safety Islet, numerous birds were gravely

strutting. They were divers, easily recognized by their cry, which much

resembles the braying of a donkey. Pencroft only considered them in

an eatable point of view, and learnt with some satisfaction that their

flesh, though blackish, is not bad food.

Great amphibious creatures could also be seen crawling on the sand;

seals, doubtless, who appeared to have chosen the islet for a place of

refuge. It was impossible to think of those animals in an alimentary

point of view, for their oily flesh is detestable; however, Cyrus

Harding observed them attentively, and without making known his idea, he

announced to his companions that very soon they would pay a visit to the

islet. The beach was strewn with innumerable shells, some of which would

have rejoiced the heart of a conchologist; there were, among others, the

phasianella, the terebratual, etc. But what would be of more use, was

the discovery, by Neb, at low tide, of a large oysterbed among the

rocks, nearly five miles from the Chimneys.

“Neb will not have lost his day,” cried Pencroft, looking at the

spacious oyster-bed.

“It is really a fortunate discovery,” said the reporter, “and as it is

said that each oyster produces yearly from fifty to sixty thousand eggs,

we shall have an inexhaustible supply there.”

“Only I believe that the oyster is not very nourishing,” said Herbert.

“No,” replied Harding. “The oyster contains very little nitrogen, and

if a man lived exclusively on them, he would have to eat not less than

fifteen to sixteen dozen a day.”

“Capital!” replied Pencroft. “We might swallow dozens and dozens without

exhausting the bed. Shall we take some for breakfast?”

And without waiting for a reply to this proposal, knowing that it would

be approved of, the sailor and Neb detached a quantity of the molluscs.

They put them in a sort of net of hibiscus fiber, which Neb had

manufactured, and which already contained food; they then continued to

climb the coast between the downs and the sea.

From time to time Harding consulted his watch, so as to be prepared in

time for the solar observation, which had to be made exactly at midday.

All that part of the island was very barren as far as the point

which closed Union Bay, and which had received the name of Cape South

Mandible. Nothing could be seen there but sand and shells, mingled with

debris of lava. A few sea-birds frequented this desolate coast, gulls,

great albatrosses, as well as wild duck, for which Pencroft had a great

fancy. He tried to knock some over with an arrow, but without result,

for they seldom perched, and he could not hit them on the wing.

This led the sailor to repeat to the engineer,--

“You see, captain, so long as we have not one or two fowling-pieces, we

shall never get anything!”

“Doubtless, Pencroft,” replied the reporter, “but it depends on you.

Procure us some iron for the barrels, steel for the hammers, saltpeter.

coal and sulphur for powder, mercury and nitric acid for the fulminate,

and lead for the shot, and the captain will make us first-rate guns.”

“Oh!” replied the engineer, “we might, no doubt, find all these

substances on the island, but a gun is a delicate instrument, and needs

very particular tools. However, we shall see later!”

“Why,” cried Pencroft, “were we obliged to throw overboard all the

weapons we had with us in the car, all our implements, even our

pocket-knives?”

“But if we had not thrown them away, Pencroft, the balloon would have

thrown us to the bottom of the sea!” said Herbert.

“What you say is true, my boy,” replied the sailor.

Then passing to another idea,--“Think,” said he, “how astounded Jonathan

Forster and his companions must have been when, next morning, they found

the place empty, and the machine flown away!”

“I am utterly indifferent about knowing what they may have thought,”

said the reporter.

“It was all my idea, that!” said Pencroft, with a satisfied air.

“A splendid idea, Pencroft!” replied Gideon Spilett, laughing, “and

which has placed us where we are.”

“I would rather be here than in the hands of the Southerners,” cried the

sailor, “especially since the captain has been kind enough to come and

join us again.”

“So would I, truly!” replied the reporter. “Besides, what do we want?

Nothing.”

“If that is not--everything!” replied Pencroft, laughing and shrugging

his shoulders. “But, some day or other, we shall find means of going

away!”

“Sooner, perhaps, than you imagine, my friends,” remarked the engineer,

“if Lincoln Island is but a medium distance from an inhabited island,

or from a continent. We shall know in an hour. I have not a map of the

Pacific, but my memory has preserved a very clear recollection of

its southern part. The latitude which I obtained yesterday placed New

Zealand to the west of Lincoln Island, and the coast of Chile to the

east. But between these two countries, there is a distance of at least

six thousand miles. It has, therefore, to be determined what point in

this great space the island occupies, and this the longitude will give

us presently, with a sufficient approximation, I hope.”

“Is not the archipelago of the Pomoutous the nearest point to us in

latitude?” asked Herbert.

“Yes,” replied the engineer, “but the distance which separates us from

it is more than twelve hundred miles.”

“And that way?” asked Neb, who followed the conversation with extreme

interest, pointing to the south.

“That way, nothing,” replied Pencroft.

“Nothing, indeed,” added the engineer.

“Well, Cyrus,” asked the reporter, “if Lincoln Island is not more than

two or three thousand miles from New Zealand or Chile?”

“Well,” replied the engineer, “instead of building a house we will build

a boat, and Master Pencroft shall be put in command--”

“Well then,” cried the sailor, “I am quite ready to be captain--as soon

as you can make a craft that’s able to keep at sea!”

“We shall do it, if it is necessary,” replied Cyrus Harding.

But while these men, who really hesitated at nothing, were talking,

the hour approached at which the observation was to be made. What Cyrus

Harding was to do to ascertain the passage of the sun at the meridian of

the island, without an instrument of any sort, Herbert could not guess.

The observers were then about six miles from the Chimneys, not far from

that part of the downs in which the engineer had been found after his

enigmatical preservation. They halted at this place and prepared for

breakfast, for it was half-past eleven. Herbert went for some fresh

water from a stream which ran near, and brought it back in a jug, which

Neb had provided.

During these preparations Harding arranged everything for his

astronomical observation. He chose a clear place on the shore, which

the ebbing tide had left perfectly level. This bed of fine sand was as

smooth as ice, not a grain out of place. It was of little importance

whether it was horizontal or not, and it did not matter much whether the

stick six feet high, which was planted there, rose perpendicularly. On

the contrary, the engineer inclined it towards the south, that is to

say, in the direction of the coast opposite to the sun, for it must

not be forgotten that the settlers in Lincoln Island, as the island was

situated in the Southern Hemisphere, saw the radiant planet describe its

diurnal arc above the northern, and not above the southern horizon.

Herbert now understood how the engineer was going to proceed to

ascertain the culmination of the sun, that is to say its passing the

meridian of the island or, in other words, determine due south. It was

by means of the shadow cast on the sand by the stick, a way which, for

want of an instrument, would give him a suitable approach to the result

which he wished to obtain.

In fact, the moment when this shadow would reach its minimum of length

would be exactly twelve o’clock, and it would be enough to watch the

extremity of the shadow, so as to ascertain the instant when, after

having successively diminished, it began to lengthen. By inclining his

stick to the side opposite to the sun, Cyrus Harding made the shadow

longer, and consequently its modifications would be more easily

ascertained. In fact, the longer the needle of a dial is, the more

easily can the movement of its point be followed. The shadow of the

stick was nothing but the needle of a dial. The moment had come, and

Cyrus Harding knelt on the sand, and with little wooden pegs, which he

stuck into the sand, he began to mark the successive diminutions of the

stick’s shadow. His companions, bending over him, watched the operation

with extreme interest. The reporter held his chronometer in his hand,

ready to tell the hour which it marked when the shadow would be at its

shortest. Moreover, as Cyrus Harding was working on the 16th of April,

the day on which the true and the average time are identical, the hour

given by Gideon Spilett would be the true hour then at Washington, which

would simplify the calculation. Meanwhile as the sun slowly advanced,

the shadow slowly diminished, and when it appeared to Cyrus Harding that

it was beginning to increase, he asked, “What o’clock is it?”

“One minute past five,” replied Gideon Spilett directly. They had now

only to calculate the operation. Nothing could be easier. It could be

seen that there existed, in round numbers, a difference of five hours

between the meridian of Washington and that of Lincoln Island, that is

to say, it was midday in Lincoln Island when it was already five o’clock

in the evening in Washington. Now the sun, in its apparent movement

round the earth, traverses one degree in four minutes, or fifteen

degrees an hour. Fifteen degrees multiplied by five hours give

seventy-five degrees.

Then, since Washington is 77deg 3’ 11” as much as to say seventy-seven

degrees counted from the meridian of Greenwich which the Americans

take for their starting-point for longitudes concurrently with the

English--it followed that the island must be situated seventy-seven and

seventy-five degrees west of the meridian of Greenwich, that is to say,

on the hundred and fifty-second degree of west longitude.

Cyrus Harding announced this result to his companions, and taking into

consideration errors of observation, as he had done for the latitude, he

believed he could positively affirm that the position of Lincoln Island

was between the thirty-fifth and the thirty-seventh parallel, and

between the hundred and fiftieth and the hundred and fifty-fifth

meridian to the west of the meridian of Greenwich.

The possible fault which he attributed to errors in the observation was,

it may be seen, of five degrees on both sides, which, at sixty miles

to a degree, would give an error of three hundred miles in latitude and

longitude for the exact position.

But this error would not influence the determination which it was

necessary to take. It was very evident that Lincoln Island was at such a

distance from every country or island that it would be too hazardous to

attempt to reach one in a frail boat.

In fact, this calculation placed it at least twelve hundred miles from

Tahiti and the islands of the archipelago of the Pomoutous, more than

eighteen hundred miles from New Zealand, and more than four thousand

five hundred miles from the American coast!

And when Cyrus Harding consulted his memory, he could not remember in

any way that such an island occupied, in that part of the Pacific, the

situation assigned to Lincoln Island.