Chapter 21

From this time Pencroft did not let a single day pass without going to

visit what he gravely called his “corn-field.” And woe to the insects

which dared to venture there! No mercy was shown them.

Towards the end of the month of June, after incessant rain, the weather

became decidedly colder, and on the 29th a Fahrenheit thermometer

would certainly have announced only twenty degrees above zero, that is

considerably below the freezing-point. The next day, the 30th of June,

the day which corresponds to the 31st of December in the northern year,

was a Friday. Neb remarked that the year finished on a bad day, but

Pencroft replied that naturally the next would begin on a good one,

which was better.

At any rate it commenced by very severe cold. Ice accumulated at the

mouth of the Mercy, and it was not long before the whole expanse of the

lake was frozen.

The settlers had frequently been obliged to renew their store of wood.

Pencroft also had wisely not waited till the river was frozen, but had

brought enormous rafts of wood to their destination. The current was

an indefatigable moving power, and it was employed in conveying the

floating wood to the moment when the frost enchained it. To the fuel

which was so abundantly supplied by the forest, they added several

cartloads of coal, which had to be brought from the foot of the spurs of

Mount Franklin. The powerful heat of the coal was greatly appreciated in

the low temperature, which on the 4th of July fell to eight degrees of

Fahrenheit, that is, thirteen degrees below zero. A second fireplace had

been established in the dining-room, where they all worked together at

their different avocations. During this period of cold, Cyrus Harding

had great cause to congratulate himself on having brought to Granite

House the little stream of water from Lake Grant. Taken below the frozen

surface, and conducted through the passage, it preserved its fluidity,

and arrived at an interior reservoir which had been hollowed out at the

back part of the storeroom, while the overflow ran through the well to

the sea.

About this time, the weather being extremely dry, the colonists, clothed

as warmly as possible, resolved to devote a day to the exploration of

that part of the island between the Mercy and Claw Cape. It was a wide

extent of marshy land, and they would probably find good sport, for

water-birds ought to swarm there.

They reckoned that it would be about eight or nine miles to go there,

and as much to return, so that the whole of the day would be occupied.

As an unknown part of the island was about to be explored, the whole

colony took part in the expedition. Accordingly, on the 5th of July, at

six o’clock in the morning, when day had scarcely broken, Cyrus Harding,

Gideon Spilett, Herbert, Neb, and Pencroft, armed with spears, snares,

bows and arrows, and provided with provisions, left Granite House,

preceded by Top, who bounded before them.

Their shortest way was to cross the Mercy on the ice, which then covered

it.

“But,” as the engineer justly observed, “that could not take the place

of a regular bridge!” So, the construction of a regular bridge was noted

in the list of future works.

It was the first time that the settlers had set foot on the right bank

of the Mercy, and ventured into the midst of those gigantic and superb

coniferae now sprinkled over with snow.

But they had not gone half a mile when from a thicket a whole family of

quadrupeds, who had made a home there, disturbed by Top, rushed forth

into the open country.

“Ah! I should say those are foxes!” cried Herbert, when he saw the troop

rapidly decamping.

They were foxes, but of a very large size, who uttered a sort of

barking, at which Top seemed to be very much astonished, for he stopped

short in the chase, and gave the swift animals time to disappear.

The dog had reason to be surprised, as he did not know Natural History.

But, by their barking, these foxes, with reddish-gray hair, black tails

terminating in a white tuft, had betrayed their origin. So Herbert

was able, without hesitating, to give them their real name of “Arctic

foxes.” They are frequently met with in Chile, in the Falkland Islands,

and in all parts of America traversed by the thirtieth and fortieth

parallels. Herbert much regretted that Top had not been able to catch

one of these carnivora.

“Are they good to eat?” asked Pencroft, who only regarded the

representatives of the fauna in the island from one special point of

view.

“No,” replied Herbert; “but zoologists have not yet found out if the

eye of these foxes is diurnal or nocturnal, or whether it is correct to

class them in the genus dog, properly so called.”

Harding could not help smiling on hearing the lad’s reflection, which

showed a thoughtful mind. As to the sailor, from the moment when he

found that the foxes were not classed in the genus eatable, they were

nothing to him. However, when a poultry-yard was established at Granite

House, he observed that it would be best to take some precautions

against a probable visit from these four-legged plunderers, and no one

disputed this.

After having turned the point, the settlers saw a long beach washed by

the open sea. It was then eight o’clock in the morning. The sky was very

clear, as it often is after prolonged cold; but warmed by their walk,

neither Harding nor his companions felt the sharpness of the atmosphere

too severely. Besides there was no wind, which made it much more

bearable. A brilliant sun, but without any calorific action, was just

issuing from the ocean. The sea was as tranquil and blue as that of a

Mediterranean gulf, when the sky is clear. Claw Cape, bent in the form

of a yataghan, tapered away nearly four miles to the southeast. To

the left the edge of the marsh was abruptly ended by a little point.

Certainly, in this part of Union Bay, which nothing sheltered from the

open sea, not even a sandbank, ships beaten by the east winds would

have found no shelter. They perceived by the tranquillity of the sea, in

which no shallows troubled the waters, by its uniform color, which was

stained by no yellow shades, by the absence of even a reef, that the

coast was steep and that the ocean there covered a deep abyss. Behind in

the west, but at a distance of four miles, rose the first trees of the

forests of the Far West. They might have believed themselves to be on

the desolate coast of some island in the Antarctic regions which the ice

had invaded. The colonists halted at this place for breakfast. A fire of

brushwood and dried seaweed was lighted, and Neb prepared the breakfast

of cold meat, to which he added some cups of Oswego tea.

While eating they looked around them. This part of Lincoln Island was

very sterile, and contrasted with all the western part. The reporter

was thus led to observe that if chance had thrown them at first on the

shore, they would have had but a deplorable idea of their future domain.

“I believe that we should not have been able to reach it,” replied the

engineer, “for the sea is deep, and there is not a rock on which we

could have taken refuge. Before Granite House, at least, there were

sandbanks, an islet, which multiplied our chances of safety. Here,

nothing but the depths!”

“It is singular enough,” remarked Spilett, “that this comparatively

small island should present such varied ground. This diversity of

aspect, logically only belongs to continents of a certain extent. One

would really say, that the western part of Lincoln Island, so rich and

so fertile, is washed by the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico, and that

its shores to the north and the southeast extend over a sort of Arctic

sea.”

“You are right, my dear Spilett,” replied Cyrus Harding, “I have also

observed this. I think the form and also the nature of this island

strange. It is a summary of all the aspects which a continent presents,

and I should not be surprised if it was a continent formerly.”

“What! a continent in the middle of the Pacific?” cried Pencroft.

“Why not?” replied Cyrus Harding. “Why should not Australia, New

Ireland, Australasia, united to the archipelagoes of the Pacific, have

once formed a sixth part of the world, as important as Europe or Asia,

as Africa or the two Americas? To my mind, it is quite possible that all

these islands, emerging from this vast ocean, are but the summits of

a continent, now submerged, but which was above the waters at a

prehistoric period.”

“As the Atlantis was formerly,” replied Herbert.

“Yes, my boy... if, however, it existed.”

“And would Lincoln Island have been a part of that continent?” asked

Pencroft.

“It is probable,” replied Cyrus Harding, “and that would sufficiently,

explain the variety of productions which are seen on its surface.”

“And the great number of animals which still inhabit it,” added Herbert.

“Yes, my boy,” replied the engineer, “and you furnish me with an

argument to support my theory. It is certain, after what we have seen,

that animals are numerous in this island, and what is more strange, that

the species are extremely varied. There is a reason for that, and to

me it is that Lincoln Island may have formerly been a part of some vast

continent which had gradually sunk below the Pacific.”

“Then, some fine day,” said Pencroft, who did not appear to be entirely

convinced, “the rest of this ancient continent may disappear in its

turn, and there will be nothing between America and Asia.”

“Yes,” replied Harding, “there will be new continents which millions and

millions of animalculae are building at this moment.”

“And what are these masons?” asked Pencroft.

“Coral insects,” replied Cyrus Harding. “By constant work they made the

island of Clermont-Tonnerre, and numerous other coral islands in the

Pacific Ocean. Forty-seven millions of these insects are needed to weigh

a grain, and yet, with the sea-salt they absorb, the solid elements of

water which they assimilate, these animalculae produce limestone, and

this limestone forms enormous submarine erections, of which the hardness

and solidity equal granite. Formerly, at the first periods of creation,

nature employing fire, heaved up the land, but now she entrusts to these

microscopic creatures the task of replacing this agent, of which

the dynamic power in the interior of the globe has evidently

diminished--which is proved by the number of volcanoes on the surface of

the earth, now actually extinct. And I believe that centuries succeeding

to centuries, and insects to insects, this Pacific may one day be

changed into a vast continent, which new generations will inhabit and

civilize in their turn.”

“That will take a long time,” said Pencroft.

“Nature has time for it,” replied the engineer.

“But what would be the use of new continents?” asked Herbert. “It

appears to me that the present extent of habitable countries is

sufficient for humanity. Yet nature does nothing uselessly.”

“Nothing uselessly, certainly,” replied the engineer, “but this is

how the necessity of new continents for the future, and exactly on the

tropical zone occupied by the coral islands, may be explained. At least

to me this explanation appears plausible.”

“We are listening, captain,” said Herbert.

“This is my idea: philosophers generally admit that some day our globe

will end, or rather that animal and vegetable life will no longer be

possible, because of the intense cold to which it will be subjected.

What they are not agreed upon, is the cause of this cold. Some think

that it will arise from the falling of the temperature, which the

sun will experience after millions of years; others, from the gradual

extinction of the fires in the interior of our globe, which have a

greater influence on it than is generally supposed. I hold to this last

hypothesis, grounding it on the fact that the moon is really a cold

star, which is no longer habitable, although the sun continues to throw

on its surface the same amount of heat. If, then, the moon has become

cold, it is because the interior fires to which, as do all the stars of

the stellar world, it owes its origin, are completely extinct. Lastly,

whatever may be the cause, our globe will become cold some day, but this

cold will only operate gradually. What will happen, then? The temperate

zones, at a more or less distant period, will not be more habitable than

the polar regions now are. Then the population of men, as well as the

animals, will flow towards the latitudes which are more directly under

the solar influence. An immense emigration will take place. Europe,

Central Asia, North America, will gradually be abandoned, as well as

Australasia and the lower parts of South America. The vegetation will

follow the human emigration. The flora will retreat towards the Equator

at the same time as the fauna. The central parts of South America and

Africa will be the continents chiefly inhabited. The Laplanders and the

Samoides will find the climate of the polar regions on the shores of the

Mediterranean. Who can say, that at this period, the equatorial regions

will not be too small, to contain and nourish terrestrial humanity? Now,

may not provident nature, so as to give refuge to all the vegetable

and animal emigration, be at present laying the foundation of a new

continent under the Equator, and may she not have entrusted these

insects with the construction of it? I have often thought of all these

things, my friends, and I seriously believe that the aspect of our

globe will some day be completely changed; that by the raising of new

continents the sea will cover the old, and that, in future ages,

a Columbus will go to discover the islands of Chimborazo, of the

Himalayas, or of Mont Blanc, remains of a submerged America, Asia,

and Europe. Then these new continents will become, in their turn,

uninhabitable; heat will die away, as does the heat from a body when

the soul has left it; and life will disappear from the globe, if not for

ever, at least for a period. Perhaps then, our spheroid will rest--will

be left to death--to revive some day under superior conditions! But

all that, my friends, is the secret of the Author of all things; and

beginning by the work of the insects, I have perhaps let myself be

carried too far, in investigating the secrets of the future.

“My dear Cyrus,” replied Spilett, “these theories are prophecies to me,

and they will be accomplished some day.”

“That is the secret of God,” said the engineer.

“All that is well and good,” then said Pencroft, who had listened with

all his might, “but will you tell me, captain, if Lincoln Island has

been made by your insects?”

“No,” replied Harding; “it is of a purely volcanic origin.”

“Then it will disappear some day?”

“That is probable.”

“I hope we won’t be here then.”

“No, don’t be uneasy, Pencroft; we shall not be here then, as we have no

wish to die here, and hope to get away some time.”

“In the meantime,” replied Gideon Spilett, “let us establish ourselves

here as if forever. There is no use in doing things by halves.”

This ended the conversation. Breakfast was finished, the exploration was

continued, and the settlers arrived at the border of the marshy

region. It was a marsh of which the extent, to the rounded coast which

terminated the island at the southeast, was about twenty square miles.

The soil was formed of clayey flint-earth, mingled with vegetable

matter, such as the remains of rushes, reeds, grass, etc. Here and there

beds of grass, thick as a carpet, covered it. In many places icy pools

sparkled in the sun. Neither rain nor any river, increased by a sudden

swelling, could supply these ponds. They therefore naturally concluded

that the marsh was fed by the infiltrations of the soil and it was

really so. It was also to be feared that during the heat miasmas would

arise, which might produce fevers.

Above the aquatic plants, on the surface of the stagnant water,

fluttered numbers of birds. Wild duck, teal, snipe lived there in

flocks, and those fearless birds allowed themselves to be easily

approached.

One shot from a gun would certainly have brought down some dozen of the

birds, they were so close together. The explorers were, however, obliged

to content themselves with bows and arrows. The result was less, but the

silent arrow had the advantage of not frightening the birds, while the

noise of firearms would have dispersed them to all parts of the marsh.

The hunters were satisfied, for this time, with a dozen ducks, which had

white bodies with a band of cinnamon, a green head, wings black, white,

and red, and flattened beak. Herbert called them tadorns. Top helped in

the capture of these birds, whose name was given to this marshy part of

the island. The settlers had here an abundant reserve of aquatic game.

At some future time they meant to explore it more carefully, and it was

probable that some of the birds there might be domesticated, or at least

brought to the shores of the lake, so that they would be more within

their reach.

About five o’clock in the evening Cyrus Harding and his companions

retraced their steps to their dwelling by traversing Tadorn’s Fens, and

crossed the Mercy on the ice-bridge.

At eight in the evening they all entered Granite House.