Chapter 3

The engineer, the meshes of the net having given way, had been carried

off by a wave. His dog also had disappeared. The faithful animal

had voluntarily leaped out to help his master. “Forward,” cried the

reporter; and all four, Spilett, Herbert, Pencroft, and Neb, forgetting

their fatigue, began their search. Poor Neb shed bitter tears, giving

way to despair at the thought of having lost the only being he loved on

earth.

Only two minutes had passed from the time when Cyrus Harding disappeared

to the moment when his companions set foot on the ground. They had hopes

therefore of arriving in time to save him. “Let us look for him! let us

look for him!” cried Neb.

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

“Living, I trust!”

“Still living!”

“Can he swim?” asked Pencroft.

“Yes,” replied Neb, “and besides, Top is there.”

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

The engineer had disappeared to the north of the shore, and nearly half

a mile from the place where the castaways had landed. The nearest point

of the beach he could reach was thus fully that distance off.

It was then nearly six o’clock. A thick fog made the night very dark.

The castaways proceeded toward the north of the land on which chance had

thrown them, an unknown region, the geographical situation of which they

could not even guess. They were walking upon a sandy soil, mingled with

stones, which appeared destitute of any sort of vegetation. The ground,

very unequal and rough, was in some places perfectly riddled with holes,

making walking extremely painful. From these holes escaped every minute

great birds of clumsy flight, which flew in all directions. Others, more

active, rose in flocks and passed in clouds over their heads. The sailor

thought he recognized gulls and cormorants, whose shrill cries rose

above the roaring of the sea.

From time to time the castaways stopped and shouted, then listened for

some response from the ocean, for they thought that if the engineer had

landed, and they had been near to the place, they would have heard the

barking of the dog Top, even should Harding himself have been unable to

give any sign of existence. They stopped to listen, but no sound arose

above the roaring of the waves and the dashing of the surf. The little

band then continued their march forward, searching into every hollow of

the shore.

After walking for twenty minutes, the four castaways were suddenly

brought to a standstill by the sight of foaming billows close to

their feet. The solid ground ended here. They found themselves at the

extremity of a sharp point on which the sea broke furiously.

“It is a promontory,” said the sailor; “we must retrace our steps,

holding towards the right, and we shall thus gain the mainland.”

“But if he is there,” said Neb, pointing to the ocean, whose waves shone

of a snowy white in the darkness. “Well, let us call again,” and all

uniting their voices, they gave a vigorous shout, but there came no

reply. They waited for a lull, then began again; still no reply.

The castaways accordingly returned, following the opposite side of the

promontory, over a soil equally sandy and rugged. However, Pencroft

observed that the shore was more equal, that the ground rose, and he

declared that it was joined by a long slope to a hill, whose massive

front he thought that he could see looming indistinctly through the

mist. The birds were less numerous on this part of the shore; the sea

was also less tumultuous, and they observed that the agitation of the

waves was diminished. The noise of the surf was scarcely heard. This

side of the promontory evidently formed a semicircular bay, which the

sharp point sheltered from the breakers of the open sea. But to follow

this direction was to go south, exactly opposite to that part of the

coast where Harding might have landed. After a walk of a mile and a

half, the shore presented no curve which would permit them to return to

the north. This promontory, of which they had turned the point, must

be attached to the mainland. The castaways, although their strength

was nearly exhausted, still marched courageously forward, hoping every

moment to meet with a sudden angle which would set them in the first

direction. What was their disappointment, when, after trudging nearly

two miles, having reached an elevated point composed of slippery rocks,

they found themselves again stopped by the sea.

“We are on an islet,” said Pencroft, “and we have surveyed it from one

extremity to the other.”

The sailor was right; they had been thrown, not on a continent, not

even on an island, but on an islet which was not more than two miles in

length, with even a less breadth.

Was this barren spot the desolate refuge of sea-birds, strewn with

stones and destitute of vegetation, attached to a more important

archipelago? It was impossible to say. When the voyagers from their car

saw the land through the mist, they had not been able to reconnoiter

it sufficiently. However, Pencroft, accustomed with his sailor eyes

to piece through the gloom, was almost certain that he could clearly

distinguish in the west confused masses which indicated an elevated

coast. But they could not in the dark determine whether it was a single

island, or connected with others. They could not leave it either, as the

sea surrounded them; they must therefore put off till the next day their

search for the engineer, from whom, alas! not a single cry had reached

them to show that he was still in existence.

“The silence of our friend proves nothing,” said the reporter. “Perhaps

he has fainted or is wounded, and unable to reply directly, so we will

not despair.”

The reporter then proposed to light a fire on a point of the islet,

which would serve as a signal to the engineer. But they searched in vain

for wood or dry brambles; nothing but sand and stones were to be found.

The grief of Neb and his companions, who were all strongly attached to

the intrepid Harding, can be better pictured than described. It was too

evident that they were powerless to help him. They must wait with what

patience they could for daylight. Either the engineer had been able to

save himself, and had already found a refuge on some point of the coast,

or he was lost for ever! The long and painful hours passed by. The cold

was intense. The castaways suffered cruelly, but they scarcely perceived

it. They did not even think of taking a minute’s rest. Forgetting

everything but their chief, hoping or wishing to hope on, they continued

to walk up and down on this sterile spot, always returning to its

northern point, where they could approach nearest to the scene of the

catastrophe. They listened, they called, and then uniting their voices,

they endeavored to raise even a louder shout than before, which would

be transmitted to a great distance. The wind had now fallen almost to

a calm, and the noise of the sea began also to subside. One of Neb’s

shouts even appeared to produce an echo. Herbert directed Pencroft’s

attention to it, adding, “That proves that there is a coast to the west,

at no great distance.” The sailor nodded; besides, his eyes could not

deceive him. If he had discovered land, however indistinct it might

appear, land was sure to be there. But that distant echo was the only

response produced by Neb’s shouts, while a heavy gloom hung over all the

part east of the island.

Meanwhile, the sky was clearing little by little. Towards midnight the

stars shone out, and if the engineer had been there with his companions

he would have remarked that these stars did not belong to the Northern

Hemisphere. The Polar Star was not visible, the constellations were not

those which they had been accustomed to see in the United States; the

Southern Cross glittered brightly in the sky.

The night passed away. Towards five o’clock in the morning of the 25th

of March, the sky began to lighten; the horizon still remained dark,

but with daybreak a thick mist rose from the sea, so that the eye could

scarcely penetrate beyond twenty feet or so from where they stood. At

length the fog gradually unrolled itself in great heavily moving waves.

It was unfortunate, however, that the castaways could distinguish

nothing around them. While the gaze of the reporter and Neb were cast

upon the ocean, the sailor and Herbert looked eagerly for the coast

in the west. But not a speck of land was visible. “Never mind,” said

Pencroft, “though I do not see the land, I feel it... it is there...

there... as sure as the fact that we are no longer at Richmond.” But the

fog was not long in rising. It was only a fine-weather mist. A hot

sun soon penetrated to the surface of the island. About half-past

six, three-quarters of an hour after sunrise, the mist became more

transparent. It grew thicker above, but cleared away below. Soon the

isle appeared as if it had descended from a cloud, then the sea showed

itself around them, spreading far away towards the east, but bounded on

the west by an abrupt and precipitous coast.

Yes! the land was there. Their safety was at least provisionally

insured. The islet and the coast were separated by a channel about half

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

However, one of the castaways, following the impulse of his heart,

immediately threw himself into the current, without consulting his

companions, without saying a single word. It was Neb. He was in haste

to be on the other side, and to climb towards the north. It had been

impossible to hold him back. Pencroft called him in vain. The reporter

prepared to follow him, but Pencroft stopped him. “Do you want to cross

the channel?” he asked. “Yes,” replied Spilett. “All right!” said the

seaman; “wait a bit; Neb is well able to carry help to his master. If we

venture into the channel, we risk being carried into the open sea by

the current, which is running very strong; but, if I’m not wrong, it is

ebbing. See, the tide is going down over the sand. Let us have patience,

and at low water it is possible we may find a fordable passage.” “You

are right,” replied the reporter, “we will not separate more than we can

help.”

During this time Neb was struggling vigorously against the current. He

was crossing in an oblique direction. His black shoulders could be seen

emerging at each stroke. He was carried down very quickly, but he also

made way towards the shore. It took more than half an hour to cross from

the islet to the land, and he reached the shore several hundred feet

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

started.

Landing at the foot of a high wall of granite, he shook himself

vigorously; and then, setting off running, soon disappeared behind

a rocky point, which projected to nearly the height of the northern

extremity of the islet.

Neb’s companions had watched his daring attempt with painful anxiety,

and when he was out of sight, they fixed their attention on the land

where their hope of safety lay, while eating some shell-fish with which

the sand was strewn. It was a wretched repast, but still it was better

than nothing. The opposite coast formed one vast bay, terminating on the

south by a very sharp point, which was destitute of all vegetation,

and was of a very wild aspect. This point abutted on the shore in a

grotesque outline of high granite rocks. Towards the north, on the

contrary, the bay widened, and a more rounded coast appeared, trending

from the southwest to the northeast, and terminating in a slender cape.

The distance between these two extremities, which made the bow of the

bay, was about eight miles. Half a mile from the shore rose the islet,

which somewhat resembled the carcass of a gigantic whale. Its extreme

breadth was not more than a quarter of a mile.

Opposite the islet, the beach consisted first of sand, covered with

black stones, which were now appearing little by little above the

retreating tide. The second level was separated by a perpendicular

granite cliff, terminated at the top by an unequal edge at a height of

at least 300 feet. It continued thus for a length of three miles, ending

suddenly on the right with a precipice which looked as if cut by the

hand of man. On the left, above the promontory, this irregular and

jagged cliff descended by a long slope of conglomerated rocks till it

mingled with the ground of the southern point. On the upper plateau of

the coast not a tree appeared. It was a flat tableland like that above

Cape Town at the Cape of Good Hope, but of reduced proportions; at least

so it appeared seen from the islet. However, verdure was not wanting to

the right beyond the precipice. They could easily distinguish a confused

mass of great trees, which extended beyond the limits of their view.

This verdure relieved the eye, so long wearied by the continued ranges

of granite. Lastly, beyond and above the plateau, in a northwesterly

direction and at a distance of at least seven miles, glittered a white

summit which reflected the sun’s rays. It was that of a lofty mountain,

capped with snow.

The question could not at present be decided whether this land formed

an island, or whether it belonged to a continent. But on beholding

the convulsed masses heaped up on the left, no geologist would have

hesitated to give them a volcanic origin, for they were unquestionably

the work of subterranean convulsions.

Gideon Spilett, Pencroft, and Herbert attentively examined this land, on

which they might perhaps have to live many long years; on which indeed

they might even die, should it be out of the usual track of vessels, as

was likely to be the case.

“Well,” asked Herbert, “what do you say, Pencroft?”

“There is some good and some bad, as in everything,” replied the sailor.

“We shall see. But now the ebb is evidently making. In three hours we

will attempt the passage, and once on the other side, we will try to get

out of this scrape, and I hope may find the captain.” Pencroft was not

wrong in his anticipations. Three hours later at low tide, the greater

part of the sand forming the bed of the channel was uncovered. Between

the islet and the coast there only remained a narrow channel which would

no doubt be easy to cross.

About ten o’clock, Gideon Spilett and his companions stripped themselves

of their clothes, which they placed in bundles on their heads, and

then ventured into the water, which was not more than five feet deep.

Herbert, for whom it was too deep, swam like a fish, and got through

capitally. All three arrived without difficulty on the opposite shore.

Quickly drying themselves in the sun, they put on their clothes, which

they had preserved from contact with the water, and sat down to take

counsel together what to do next.