Chapter 10

When Pencroft had once got a plan in his head, he had no peace till it

was executed. Now he wished to visit Tabor Island, and as a boat of a

certain size was necessary for this voyage, he determined to build one.

What wood should he employ? Elm or fir, both of which abounded in the

island? They decided for the fir, as being easy to work, but which

stands water as well as the elm.

These details settled, it was agreed that since the fine season would

not return before six months, Cyrus Harding and Pencroft should work

alone at the boat. Gideon Spilett and Herbert were to continue to

hunt, and neither Neb nor Master Jup, his assistant, were to leave the

domestic duties which had devolved upon them.

Directly the trees were chosen, they were felled, stripped of their

branches, and sawn into planks as well as sawyers would have been able

to do it. A week after, in the recess between the Chimneys and the

cliff, a dockyard was prepared, and a keel five-and-thirty feet long,

furnished with a stern-post at the stern and a stem at the bows, lay

along the sand.

Cyrus Harding was not working in the dark at this new trade. He knew as

much about ship-building as about nearly everything else, and he had

at first drawn the model of his ship on paper. Besides, he was ably

seconded by Pencroft, who, having worked for several years in a dockyard

in Brooklyn, knew the practical part of the trade. It was not until

after careful calculation and deep thought that the timbers were laid on

the keel.

Pencroft, as may be believed, was all eagerness to carry out his new

enterprise, and would not leave his work for an instant.

A single thing had the honor of drawing him, but for one day only, from

his dockyard. This was the second wheat-harvest, which was gathered in

on the 15th of April. It was as much a success as the first, and yielded

the number of grains which had been predicted.

“Five bushels, captain,” said Pencroft, after having scrupulously

measured his treasure.

“Five bushels,” replied the engineer; “and a hundred and thirty thousand

grains a bushel will make six hundred and fifty thousand grains.”

“Well, we will sow them all this time,” said the sailor, “except a

little in reserve.”

“Yes, Pencroft, and if the next crop gives a proportionate yield, we

shall have four thousand bushels.”

“And shall we eat bread?”

“We shall eat bread.”

“But we must have a mill.

“We will make one.”

The third corn-field was very much larger than the two first, and the

soil, prepared with extreme care, received the precious seed. That done,

Pencroft returned to his work.

During this time Spilett and Herbert hunted in the neighborhood, and

they ventured deep into the still unknown parts of the Far West, their

guns loaded with ball, ready for any dangerous emergency. It was a vast

thicket of magnificent trees, crowded together as if pressed for room.

The exploration of these dense masses of wood was difficult in

the extreme, and the reporter never ventured there without the

pocket-compass, for the sun scarcely pierced through the thick foliage

and it would have been very difficult for them to retrace their way.

It naturally happened that game was more rare in those situations where

there was hardly sufficient room to move; two or three large herbivorous

animals were however killed during the last fortnight of April. These

were koalas, specimens of which the settlers had already seen to the

north of the lake, and which stupidly allowed themselves to be killed

among the thick branches of the trees in which they took refuge. Their

skins were brought back to Granite House, and there, by the help of

sulphuric acid, they were subjected to a sort of tanning process which

rendered them capable of being used.

On the 30th of April, the two sportsmen were in the depth of the Far

West, when the reporter, preceding Herbert a few paces, arrived in

a sort of clearing, into which the trees more sparsely scattered had

permitted a few rays to penetrate. Gideon Spilett was at first surprised

at the odor which exhaled from certain plants with straight stalks,

round and branchy, bearing grape-like clusters of flowers and very small

berries. The reporter broke off one or two of these stalks and returned

to the lad, to whom he said,--

“What can this be, Herbert?”

“Well, Mr. Spilett,” said Herbert, “this is a treasure which will secure

you Pencroft’s gratitude forever.”

“Is it tobacco?”

“Yes, and though it may not be of the first quality, it is none the less

tobacco!”

“Oh, good old Pencroft! Won’t he be pleased! But we must not let him

smoke it all, he must give us our share.”

“Ah! an idea occurs to me, Mr. Spilett,” replied Herbert. “Don’t let us

say anything to Pencroft yet; we will prepare these leaves, and one fine

day we will present him with a pipe already filled!”

“All right, Herbert, and on that day our worthy companion will have

nothing left to wish for in this world.”

The reporter and the lad secured a good store of the precious plant, and

then returned to Granite House, where they smuggled it in with as much

precaution as if Pencroft had been the most vigilant and severe of

custom-house officers.

Cyrus Harding and Neb were taken into confidence, and the sailor

suspected nothing during the whole time, necessarily somewhat long,

which was required in order to dry the small leaves, chop them up, and

subject them to a certain torrefaction on hot stones. This took two

months; but all these manipulations were successfully carried on unknown

to Pencroft, for, occupied with the construction of his boat, he only

returned to Granite House at the hour of rest.

For some days they had observed an enormous animal two or three miles

out in the open sea swimming around Lincoln Island. This was a whale

of the largest size, which apparently belonged to the southern species,

called the “Cape Whale.”

“What a lucky chance it would be if we could capture it!” cried the

sailor. “Ah! if we only had a proper boat and a good harpoon, I would

say ‘After the beast,’ for he would be well worth the trouble of

catching!”

“Well, Pencroft,” observed Harding, “I should much like to watch you

handling a harpoon. It would be very interesting.”

“I am astonished,” said the reporter, “to see a whale in this

comparatively high latitude.”

“Why so, Mr. Spilett?” replied Herbert. “We are exactly in that part of

the Pacific which English and American whalemen call the whale field,

and it is here, between New Zealand and South America, that the whales

of the Southern Hemisphere are met with in the greatest numbers.”

And Pencroft returned to his work, not without uttering a sigh of

regret, for every sailor is a born fisherman, and if the pleasure of

fishing is in exact proportion to the size of the animal, one can judge

how a whaler feels in sight of a whale. And if this had only been for

pleasure! But they could not help feeling how valuable such a prize

would have been to the colony, for the oil, fat, and bones would have

been put to many uses.

Now it happened that this whale appeared to have no wish to leave the

waters of the island. Therefore, whether from the windows of Granite

House, or from Prospect Heights, Herbert and Gideon Spilett, when they

were not hunting, or Neb, unless presiding over his fires, never left

the telescope, but watched all the animal’s movements. The cetacean,

having entered far into Union Bay, made rapid furrows across it from

Mandible Cape to Claw Cape, propelled by its enormously powerful flukes,

on which it supported itself, and making its way through the water

at the rate little short of twelve knots. Sometimes also it

approached so near to the island that it could be clearly distinguished.

It was the southern whale, which is completely black, the head being

more depressed than that of the northern whale.

They could also see it throwing up from its air-holes to a great

height a cloud of vapor, or of water, for, strange as it may appear,

naturalists and whalers are not agreed on this subject. Is it air or is

it water which is thus driven out? It is generally admitted to be vapor,

which, condensing suddenly by contact with the cold air, falls again as

rain.

However, the presence of this mammifer preoccupied the colonists. It

irritated Pencroft especially, as he could think of nothing else while

at work. He ended by longing for it, like a child for a thing which it

has been denied. At night he talked about it in his sleep, and certainly

if he had had the means of attacking it, if the sloop had been in a fit

state to put to sea, he would not have hesitated to set out in pursuit.

But what the colonists could not do for themselves chance did for them,

and on the 3rd of May shouts from Neb, who had stationed himself at the

kitchen window, announced that the whale was stranded on the beach of

the island.

Herbert and Gideon Spilett, who were just about to set out hunting,

left their guns, Pencroft threw down his ax, and Harding and Neb joining

their companions, all rushed towards the scene of action.

The stranding had taken place on the beach of Flotsam Point, three miles

from Granite House, and at high tide. It was therefore probable that the

cetacean would not be able to extricate itself easily; at any rate it

was best to hasten, so as to cut off its retreat if necessary. They ran

with pick-axes and iron-tipped poles in their hands, passed over the

Mercy bridge, descended the right bank of the river, along the beach,

and in less than twenty minutes the settlers were close to the enormous

animal, above which flocks of birds already hovered.

“What a monster!” cried Neb.

And the exclamation was natural, for it was a southern whale, eighty

feet long, a giant of the species, probably not weighing less than a

hundred and fifty thousand pounds!

In the meanwhile, the monster thus stranded did not move, nor attempt by

struggling to regain the water while the tide was still high.

It was dead, and a harpoon was sticking out of its left side.

“There are whalers in these quarters, then?” said Gideon Spilett

directly.

“Oh, Mr. Spilett, that doesn’t prove anything!” replied Pencroft.

“Whales have been known to go thousands of miles with a harpoon in

the side, and this one might even have been struck in the north of the

Atlantic and come to die in the south of the Pacific, and it would be

nothing astonishing.”

Pencroft, having torn the harpoon from the animal’s side, read this

inscription on it:

MARIA STELLA, VINEYARD

“A vessel from the Vineyard! A ship from my country!” he cried. “The

‘Maria Stella!’ A fine whaler, ‘pon my word; I know her well! Oh, my

friends, a vessel from the Vineyard!--a whaler from the Vineyard!”

And the sailor brandishing the harpoon, repeated, not without emotion,

the name which he loved so well--the name of his birthplace.

But as it could not be expected that the “Maria Stella” would come to

reclaim the animal harpooned by her, they resolved to begin cutting it

up before decomposition should commence. The birds, who had watched

this rich prey for several days, had determined to take possession of it

without further delay, and it was necessary to drive them off by firing

at them repeatedly.

The whale was a female, and a large quantity of milk was taken from it,

which, according to the opinion of the naturalist Duffenbach, might pass

for cow’s milk, and, indeed, it differs from it neither in taste, color,

nor density.

Pencroft had formerly served on board a whaling-ship, and he could

methodically direct the operation of cutting up, a sufficiently

disagreeable operation lasting three days, but from which the settlers

did not flinch, not even Gideon Spilett, who, as the sailor said, would

end by making a “real good castaway.”

The blubber, cut in parallel slices of two feet and a half in thickness,

then divided into pieces which might weigh about a thousand pounds each,

was melted down in large earthen pots brought to the spot, for they did

not wish to taint the environs of Granite House, and in this fusion it

lost nearly a third of its weight.

But there was an immense quantity of it; the tongue alone yielded six

thousand pounds of oil, and the lower lip four thousand. Then, besides

the fat, which would insure for a long time a store of stearine and

glycerine, there were still the bones, for which a use could doubtless

be found, although there were neither umbrellas nor stays used at

Granite House. The upper part of the mouth of the cetacean was, indeed,

provided on both sides with eight hundred horny blades, very elastic,

of a fibrous texture, and fringed at the edge like great combs, at which

the teeth, six feet long, served to retain the thousands of animalculae,

little fish, and molluscs, on which the whale fed.

The operation finished, to the great satisfaction of the operators, the

remains of the animal were left to the birds, who would soon make every

vestige of it disappear, and their usual daily occupations were resumed

by the inmates of Granite House.

However, before returning to the dockyard, Cyrus Harding conceived

the idea of fabricating certain machines, which greatly excited the

curiosity of his companions. He took a dozen of the whale’s bones, cut

them into six equal parts, and sharpened their ends.

“This machine is not my own invention, and it is frequently employed

by the Aleutian hunters in Russian America. You see these bones, my

friends; well, when it freezes, I will bend them, and then wet them

with water till they are entirely covered with ice, which will keep them

bent, and I will strew them on the snow, having previously covered them

with fat. Now, what will happen if a hungry animal swallows one of these

baits? Why, the heat of his stomach will melt the ice, and the bone,

springing straight, will pierce him with its sharp points.”

“Well! I do call that ingenious!” said Pencroft.

“And it will spare the powder and shot,” rejoined Cyrus Harding.

“That will be better than traps!” added Neb.

In the meanwhile the boat-building progressed, and towards the end of

the month half the planking was completed. It could already be seen that

her shape was excellent, and that she would sail well.

Pencroft worked with unparalleled ardor, and only a sturdy frame could

have borne such fatigue; but his companions were preparing in secret a

reward for his labors, and on the 31st of May he was to meet with one of

the greatest joys of his life.

On that day, after dinner, just as he was about to leave the table,

Pencroft felt a hand on his shoulder.

It was the hand of Gideon Spilett, who said,--

“One moment, Master Pencroft, you mustn’t sneak off like that! You’ve

forgotten your dessert.”

“Thank you, Mr. Spilett,” replied the sailor, “I am going back to my

work.”

“Well, a cup of coffee, my friend?”

“Nothing more.”

“A pipe, then?”

Pencroft jumped up, and his great good-natured face grew pale when he

saw the reporter presenting him with a ready-filled pipe, and Herbert

with a glowing coal.

The sailor endeavored to speak, but could not get out a word; so,

seizing the pipe, he carried it to his lips, then applying the coal,

he drew five or six great whiffs. A fragrant blue cloud soon arose, and

from its depths a voice was heard repeating excitedly,--

“Tobacco! real tobacco!”

“Yes, Pencroft,” returned Cyrus Harding, “and very good tobacco too!”

“O, divine Providence; sacred Author of all things!” cried the sailor.

“Nothing more is now wanting to our island.”

And Pencroft smoked, and smoked, and smoked.

“And who made this discovery?” he asked at length. “You, Herbert, no

doubt?”

“No, Pencroft, it was Mr. Spilett.”

“Mr. Spilett!” exclaimed the sailor, seizing the reporter, and clasping

him to his breast with such a squeeze that he had never felt anything

like it before.

“Oh Pencroft,” said Spilett, recovering his breath at last, “a truce for

one moment. You must share your gratitude with Herbert, who recognized

the plant, with Cyrus, who prepared it, and with Neb, who took a great

deal of trouble to keep our secret.”

“Well, my friends, I will repay you some day,” replied the sailor. “Now

we are friends for life.”