Books: The Mysterious Island

J >> Jules Verne >> The Mysterious Island

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On the 28th of March the tube was heated. A hundred parts of sand,
thirty-five of chalk, forty of sulphate of soda, mixed with two or three
parts of powdered coal, composed the substance, which was placed in
crucibles. When the high temperature of the oven had reduced it to a
liquid, or rather a pasty state, Cyrus Harding collected with the tube a
quantity of the paste: he turned it about on a metal plate, previously
arranged, so as to give it a form suitable for blowing, then he passed the
tube to Herbert, telling him to blow at the other extremity.

And Herbert, swelling out his cheeks, blew so much and so well into the
tube-taking care to twirl it round at the same time--that his breath
dilated the glassy mass. Other quantities of the substance in a state of
fusion were added to the first, and in a short time the result was a bubble
which measured a foot in diameter. Harding then took the tube out of
Herbert's hands, and, giving it a pendulous motion, he ended by lengthening
the malleable bubble so as to give it a cylindroconic shape.

The blowing operation had given a cylinder of glass terminated by two
hemispheric caps, which were easily detached by means of a sharp iron
dipped in cold water; then, by the same proceeding, this cylinder was cut
lengthways, and after having been rendered malleable by a second heating,
it was extended on a plate and spread out with a wooden roller.

The first pane was thus manufactured, and they had only to perform this
operation fifty times to have fifty panes. The windows at Granite House
were soon furnished with panes; not very white, perhaps, but still
sufficiently transparent.

As to bottles and tumblers, that was only play. They were satisfied with
them, besides, just as they came from the end of the tube. Pencroft had
asked to be allowed to "blow" in his turn, and it was great fun for him;
but he blew so hard that his productions took the most ridiculous shapes,
which he admired immensely.

Cyrus Harding and Herbert, while hunting one day, had entered the forest
of the Far West, on the left bank of the Mercy, and, as usual, the lad was
asking a thousand questions of the engineer, who answered them heartily.
Now, as Harding was not a sportsman, and as, on the other side, Herbert was
talking chemistry and natural philosophy, numbers of kangaroos, capybaras,
and agouties came within range, which, however, escaped the lad's gun; the
consequence was that the day was already advanced, and the two hunters were
in danger of having made a useless excursion, when Herbert, stopping, and
uttering a cry of joy, exclaimed,--

"Oh, Captain Harding, do you see that tree?" and he pointed to a shrub,
rather than a tree, for it was composed of a single stem, covered with a
scaly bark, which bore leaves streaked with little parallel veins.

"And what is this tree which resembles a little palm?" asked Harding.

"It is a 'cycas revoluta,' of which I have a picture in our dictionary of
Natural History!" said Herbert.

"But I can't see any fruit on this shrub!" observed his companion.

"No, captain," replied Herbert; "but its stem contains a flour with which
nature has provided us all ready ground."

"It is, then, the bread-tree?"

"Yes, the bread-tree."

"Well, my boy," replied the engineer, "this is a valuable discovery,
since our wheat harvest is not yet ripe; I hope that you are not mistaken!"

Herbert was not mistaken: he broke the stem of a cycas, which was
composed of a glandulous tissue, containing a quantity of floury pith,
traversed with woody fiber, separated by rings of the same substance,
arranged concentrically. With this fecula was mingled a mucilaginous juice
of disagreeable flavor, but which it would be easy to get rid of by
pressure. This cellular substance was regular flour of a superior quality,
extremely nourishing; its exportation was formerly forbidden by the
Japanese laws.

Cyrus Harding and Herbert, after having examined that part of the Far
West where the cycas grew, took their bearings, and returned to Granite
House, where they made known their discovery.

The next day the settlers went to collect some, and returned to Granite
House with an ample supply of cycas stems. The engineer constructed a
press, with which to extract the mucilaginous juice mingled with the
fecula, and he obtained a large quantity of flour, which Neb soon
transformed into cakes and puddings. This was not quite real wheaten bread,
but it was very like it.

Now, too, the onager, the goats, and the sheep in the corral furnished
daily the milk necessary to the colony. The cart, or rather a sort of light
carriole which had replaced it, made frequent journeys to the corral, and
when it was Pencroft's turn to go he took Jup, and let him drive, and Jup,
cracking his whip, acquitted himself with his customary intelligence.

Everything prospered, as well in the corral as in Granite House, and
certainly the settlers, if it had not been that they were so far from their
native land, had no reason to complain. They were so well suited to this
life, and were, besides, so accustomed to the island, that they could not
have left its hospitable soil without regret!

And yet so deeply is the love of his country implanted in the heart of
man, that if a ship had unexpectedly come in sight of the island, the
colonists would have made signals, would have attracted her attention, and
would have departed!

It was the 1st of April, a Sunday, Easter Day, which Harding and his
companions sanctified by rest and prayer. The day was fine, such as an
October day in the Northern Hemisphere might be.

All, towards the evening after dinner, were seated under the veranda on
the edge of Prospect Heights, and they were watching the darkness creeping
up from the horizon. Some cups of the infusion of elder-berries, which took
the place of coffee, had been served by Neb. They were speaking of the
island and of its isolated situation in the Pacific, which led Gideon
Spilett to say,--

"My dear Cyrus, have you ever, since you possessed the sextant found in
the case, again taken the position of our island?"

"No," replied the engineer.

"But it would perhaps be a good thing to do it with this instrument,
which is more perfect than that which you before used."

"What is the good?" said Pencroft. "The island is quite comfortable where
it is!"

"Well, who knows," returned the reporter, "who knows but that we may be
much nearer inhabited land than we think?"

"We shall know to-morrow," replied Cyrus Harding, "and if it had not been
for the occupations which left me no leisure, we should have known it
already."

"Good!" said Pencroft. "The captain is too good an observer to be
mistaken, and, if it has not moved from its place, the island is just where
he put it."

"We shall see."

On the next day, therefore, by means of the sextant, the engineer made
the necessary observations to verify the position which he had already
obtained, and this was the result of his operation. His first observation
had given him the situation of Lincoln Island,--

In west longitude: from 1500 to 1550;

In south latitude: from 300 to 350

The second gave exactly:

In longitude: 1500 30'

In south latitude: 340 57'

So then, notwithstanding the imperfection of his apparatus, Cyrus Harding
had operated with so much skill that his error did not exceed five degrees.

"Now," said Gideon Spilett, "since we possess an atlas as well as a
sextant, let us see, my dear Cyrus, the exact position which Lincoln Island
occupies in the Pacific."

Herbert fetched the atlas, and the map of the Pacific was opened, and the
engineer, compass in hand, prepared to determine their position.

Suddenly the compasses stopped, and he exclaimed,

"But an island exists in this part of the Pacific already!"

"An island?" cried Pencroft.

"Tabor Island."

"An important island?"

"No, an islet lost in the Pacific, and which perhaps has never been
visited."

"Well, we will visit it," said Pencroft.

"We?"

"Yes, captain. We will build a decked boat, and I will undertake to steer
her. At what distance are we from this Tabor Island?"

"About a hundred and fifty miles to the northeast," replied Harding.

"A hundred and fifty miles! And what's that?" returned Pencroft. "In
forty-eight hours, with a good wind, we should sight it!"

And, on this reply, it was decided that a vessel should be constructed in
time to be launched towards the month of next October, on the return of the
fine season.

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, alter 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 an hour. 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."

Chapter 11

Winter arrived with the month of June, which is the December of the
northern zones, and the great business was the making of warm and solid
clothing.

The musmons in the corral had been stripped of their wool, and this
precious textile material was now to be transformed into stuff.

Of course Cyrus Harding, having at his disposal neither carders,
combers, polishers, stretchers, twisters, mule-jenny, nor self-acting
machine to spin the wool, nor loom to weave it, was obliged to proceed in a
simpler way, so as to do without spinning and weaving. And indeed he
proposed to make use of the property which the filaments of wool possess
when subjected to a powerful pressure of mixing together, and of
manufacturing by this simple process the material called felt. This felt
could then be obtained by a simple operation which, if it diminished the
flexibility of the stuff, increased its power of retaining heat in
proportion. Now the wool furnished by the musmons was composed of very
short hairs, and was in a good condition to be felted.