L'île mystérieuse. English

  Chapter 8

  Neb did not move. Pencroft only uttered one word.

  "Living?" he cried.

  Neb did not reply. Spilett and the sailor turned pale. Herbert claspedhis hands, and remained motionless. The poor Negro, absorbed in hisgrief, evidently had neither seen his companions nor heard the sailorspeak.

  The reporter knelt down beside the motionless body, and placed his earto the engineer's chest, having first torn open his clothes.

  A minute--an age!--passed, during which he endeavored to catch thefaintest throb of the heart.

  Neb had raised himself a little and gazed without seeing. Despair hadcompletely changed his countenance. He could scarcely be recognized,exhausted with fatigue, broken with grief. He believed his master wasdead.

  Gideon Spilett at last rose, after a long and attentive examination.

  "He lives!" said he.

  Pencroft knelt in his turn beside the engineer, he also heard athrobbing, and even felt a slight breath on his cheek.

  Herbert at a word from the reporter ran out to look for water. He found,a hundred feet off, a limpid stream, which seemed to have been greatlyincreased by the rains, and which filtered through the sand; but nothingin which to put the water, not even a shell among the downs. The lad wasobliged to content himself with dipping his handkerchief in the stream,and with it hastened back to the grotto.

  Happily the wet handkerchief was enough for Gideon Spilett, who onlywished to wet the engineer's lips. The cold water produced an almostimmediate effect. His chest heaved and he seemed to try to speak.

  "We will save him!" exclaimed the reporter.

  At these words hope revived in Neb's heart. He undressed his masterto see if he was wounded, but not so much as a bruise was to be found,either on the head, body, or limbs, which was surprising, as he musthave been dashed against the rocks; even the hands were uninjured, andit was difficult to explain how the engineer showed no traces of theefforts which he must have made to get out of reach of the breakers.

  But the explanation would come later. When Cyrus was able to speak hewould say what had happened. For the present the question was, how torecall him to life, and it appeared likely that rubbing would bring thisabout; so they set to work with the sailor's jersey.

  The engineer, revived by this rude shampooing, moved his arm slightlyand began to breathe more regularly. He was sinking from exhaustion,and certainly, had not the reporter and his companions arrived, it wouldhave been all over with Cyrus Harding.

  "You thought your master was dead, didn't you?" said the seaman to Neb.

  "Yes! quite dead!" replied Neb, "and if Top had not found you, andbrought you here, I should have buried my master, and then have laindown on his grave to die!"

  It had indeed been a narrow escape for Cyrus Harding!

  Neb then recounted what had happened. The day before, after havingleft the Chimneys at daybreak, he had ascended the coast in a northerlydirection, and had reached that part of the shore which he had alreadyvisited.

  There, without any hope he acknowledged, Neb had searched the beach,among the rocks, on the sand, for the smallest trace to guide him. Heexamined particularly that part of the beach which was not covered bythe high tide, for near the sea the water would have obliterated allmarks. Neb did not expect to find his master living. It was for a corpsethat he searched, a corpse which he wished to bury with his own hands!

  He sought long in vain. This desert coast appeared never to have beenvisited by a human creature. The shells, those which the sea had notreached, and which might be met with by millions above high-water mark,were untouched. Not a shell was broken.

  Neb then resolved to walk along the beach for some miles. It waspossible that the waves had carried the body to quite a distant point.When a corpse floats a little distance from a low shore, it rarelyhappens that the tide does not throw it up, sooner or later. This Nebknew, and he wished to see his master again for the last time.

  "I went along the coast for another two miles, carefully examiningthe beach, both at high and low water, and I had despaired of findinganything, when yesterday, above five in the evening, I saw footprints onthe sand."

  "Footprints?" exclaimed Pencroft.

  "Yes!" replied Neb.

  "Did these footprints begin at the water's edge?" asked the reporter.

  "No," replied Neb, "only above high-water mark, for the others must havebeen washed out by the tide."

  "Go on, Neb," said Spilett.

  "I went half crazy when I saw these footprints. They were very clearand went towards the downs. I followed them for a quarter of a mile,running, but taking care not to destroy them. Five minutes after, asit was getting dark, I heard the barking of a dog. It was Top, and Topbrought me here, to my master!"

  Neb ended his account by saying what had been his grief at finding theinanimate body, in which he vainly sought for the least sign of life.Now that he had found him dead he longed for him to be alive. All hisefforts were useless! Nothing remained to be done but to render the lastduties to the one whom he had loved so much! Neb then thought of hiscompanions. They, no doubt, would wish to see the unfortunate man again.Top was there. Could he not rely on the sagacity of the faithful animal?Neb several times pronounced the name of the reporter, the one among hiscompanions whom Top knew best.

  Then he pointed to the south, and the dog bounded off in the directionindicated to him.

  We have heard how, guided by an instinct which might be looked uponalmost as supernatural, Top had found them.

  Neb's companions had listened with great attention to this account.

  It was unaccountable to them how Cyrus Harding, after the efforts whichhe must have made to escape from the waves by crossing the rocks, hadnot received even a scratch. And what could not be explained either washow the engineer had managed to get to this cave in the downs, more thana mile from the shore.

  "So, Neb," said the reporter, "it was not you who brought your master tothis place."

  "No, it was not I," replied the Negro.

  "It's very clear that the captain came here by himself," said Pencroft.

  "It is clear in reality," observed Spilett, "but it is not credible!"

  The explanation of this fact could only be produced from the engineer'sown lips, and they must wait for that till speech returned. Rubbing hadre-established the circulation of the blood. Cyrus Harding moved his armagain, then his head, and a few incomprehensible words escaped him.

  Neb, who was bending over him, spoke, but the engineer did not appearto hear, and his eyes remained closed. Life was only exhibited in him bymovement, his senses had not as yet been restored.

  Pencroft much regretted not having either fire, or the means ofprocuring it, for he had, unfortunately, forgotten to bring the burntlinen, which would easily have ignited from the sparks produced bystriking together two flints. As to the engineer's pockets, they wereentirely empty, except that of his waistcoat, which contained his watch.It was necessary to carry Harding to the Chimneys, and that as soon aspossible. This was the opinion of all.

  Meanwhile, the care which was lavished on the engineer brought him backto consciousness sooner than they could have expected. The water withwhich they wetted his lips revived him gradually. Pencroft also thoughtof mixing with the water some moisture from the titra's flesh whichhe had brought. Herbert ran to the beach and returned with two largebivalve shells. The sailor concocted something which he introducedbetween the lips of the engineer, who eagerly drinking it opened hiseyes.

  Neb and the reporter were leaning over him.

  "My master! my master!" cried Neb.

  The engineer heard him. He recognized Neb and Spilett, then his othertwo companions, and his hand slightly pressed theirs.

  A few words again escaped him, which showed what thoughts were, eventhen, troubling his brain. This time he was understood. Undoubtedly theywere the same words he had before attempted to utter.

  "Island or continent?" he murmured.

  "Bother th
e continent," cried Pencroft hastily; "there is time enoughto see about that, captain! we don't care for anything, provided you areliving."

  The engineer nodded faintly, and then appeared to sleep.

  They respected this sleep, and the reporter began immediately to makearrangements for transporting Harding to a more comfortable place. Neb,Herbert, and Pencroft left the cave and directed their steps towardsa high mound crowned with a few distorted trees. On the way the sailorcould not help repeating,--

  "Island or continent! To think of that, when at one's last gasp! What aman!"

  Arrived at the summit of the mound, Pencroft and his two companionsset to work, with no other tools than their hands, to despoil of itsprincipal branches a rather sickly tree, a sort of marine fir; withthese branches they made a litter, on which, covered with grass andleaves, they could carry the engineer.

  This occupied them nearly forty minutes, and it was ten o'clock whenthey returned to Cyrus Harding whom Spilett had not left.

  The engineer was just awaking from the sleep, or rather from thedrowsiness, in which they had found him. The color was returning to hischeeks, which till now had been as pale as death. He raised himself alittle, looked around him, and appeared to ask where he was.

  "Can you listen to me without fatigue, Cyrus?" asked the reporter.

  "Yes," replied the engineer.

  "It's my opinion," said the sailor, "that Captain Harding will beable to listen to you still better, if he will have some more grousejelly,--for we have grouse, captain," added he, presenting him with alittle of this jelly, to which he this time added some of the flesh.

  Cyrus Harding ate a little of the grouse, and the rest was dividedamong his companions, who found it but a meager breakfast, for they weresuffering extremely from hunger.

  "Well!" said the sailor, "there is plenty of food at the Chimneys, foryou must know, captain, that down there, in the south, we have a house,with rooms, beds, and fireplace, and in the pantry, several dozen ofbirds, which our Herbert calls couroucous. Your litter is ready, and assoon as you feel strong enough we will carry you home."

  "Thanks, my friend," replied the engineer; "wait another hour or two,and then we will set out. And now speak, Spilett."

  The reporter then told him all that had occurred. He recounted all theevents with which Cyrus was unacquainted, the last fall of the balloon,the landing on this unknown land, which appeared a desert (whatever itwas, whether island or continent), the discovery of the Chimneys,the search for him, not forgetting of course Neb's devotion, theintelligence exhibited by the faithful Top, as well as many othermatters.

  "But," asked Harding, in a still feeble voice, "you did not, then, pickme up on the beach?"

  "No," replied the reporter.

  "And did you not bring me to this cave?"

  "No."

  "At what distance is this cave from the sea?"

  "About a mile," replied Pencroft; "and if you are astonished, captain,we are not less surprised ourselves at seeing you in this place!"

  "Indeed," said the engineer, who was recovering gradually, and who tookgreat interest in these details, "indeed it is very singular!"

  "But," resumed the sailor, "can you tell us what happened after you werecarried off by the sea?"

  Cyrus Harding considered. He knew very little. The wave had torn himfrom the balloon net. He sank at first several fathoms. On returningto the surface, in the half light, he felt a living creature strugglingnear him. It was Top, who had sprung to his help. He saw nothing of theballoon, which, lightened both of his weight and that of the dog, haddarted away like an arrow.

  There he was, in the midst of the angry sea, at a distance which couldnot be less than half a mile from the shore. He attempted to struggleagainst the billows by swimming vigorously. Top held him up by hisclothes; but a strong current seized him and drove him towards thenorth, and after half an hour of exertion, he sank, dragging Topwith him into the depths. From that moment to the moment in which herecovered to find himself in the arms of his friends he rememberednothing.

  "However," remarked Pencroft, "you must have been thrown on to thebeach, and you must have had strength to walk here, since Neb found yourfootmarks!"

  "Yes... of course," replied the engineer, thoughtfully; "and you foundno traces of human beings on this coast?"

  "Not a trace," replied the reporter; "besides, if by chance you had metwith some deliverer there, just in the nick of time, why should he haveabandoned you after having saved you from the waves?"

  "You are right, my dear Spilett. Tell me, Neb," added the engineer,turning to his servant, "it was not you who... you can't have had amoment of unconsciousness... during which no, that's absurd.... Do anyof the footsteps still remain?" asked Harding.

  "Yes, master," replied Neb; "here, at the entrance, at the back ofthe mound, in a place sheltered from the rain and wind. The storm hasdestroyed the others."

  "Pencroft," said Cyrus Harding, "will you take my shoe and see if itfits exactly to the footprints?"

  The sailor did as the engineer requested. While he and Herbert, guidedby Neb, went to the place where the footprints were to be found, Cyrusremarked to the reporter,--

  "It is a most extraordinary thing!"

  "Perfectly inexplicable!" replied Gideon Spilett.

  "But do not dwell upon it just now, my dear Spilett, we will talk aboutit by-and-by."

  A moment after the others entered.

  There was no doubt about it. The engineer's shoe fitted exactly to thefootmarks. It was therefore Cyrus Harding who had left them on the sand.

  "Come," said he, "I must have experienced this unconsciousness which Iattributed to Neb. I must have walked like a somnambulist, without anyknowledge of my steps, and Top must have guided me here, after havingdragged me from the waves... Come, Top! Come, old dog!"

  The magnificent animal bounded barking to his master, and caresses werelavished on him. It was agreed that there was no other way of accountingfor the rescue of Cyrus Harding, and that Top deserved all the honor ofthe affair.

  Towards twelve o'clock, Pencroft having asked the engineer if they couldnow remove him, Harding, instead of replying, and by an effort whichexhibited the most energetic will, got up. But he was obliged to lean onthe sailor, or he would have fallen.

  "Well done!" cried Pencroft; "bring the captain's litter."

  The litter was brought; the transverse branches had been covered withleaves and long grass. Harding was laid on it, and Pencroft, havingtaken his place at one end and Neb at the other, they started towardsthe coast. There was a distance of eight miles to be accomplished; but,as they could not go fast, and it would perhaps be necessary to stopfrequently, they reckoned that it would take at least six hours to reachthe Chimneys. The wind was still strong, but fortunately it did notrain. Although lying down, the engineer, leaning on his elbow, observedthe coast, particularly inland. He did not speak, but he gazed; and, nodoubt, the appearance of the country, with its inequalities of ground,its forests, its various productions, were impressed on his mind.However, after traveling for two hours, fatigue overcame him, and heslept.

  At half-past five the little band arrived at the precipice, and a shorttime after at the Chimneys.

  They stopped, and the litter was placed on the sand; Cyrus Harding wassleeping profoundly, and did not awake.

  Pencroft, to his extreme surprise, found that the terrible storm hadquite altered the aspect of the place. Important changes had occurred;great blocks of stone lay on the beach, which was also covered with athick carpet of sea-weed, algae, and wrack. Evidently the sea, passingover the islet, had been carried right up to the foot of the enormouscurtain of granite. The soil in front of the cave had been torn awayby the violence of the waves. A horrid presentiment flashed acrossPencroft's mind. He rushed into the passage, but returned almostimmediately, and stood motionless, staring at his companions.... Thefire was out; the drowned cinders were nothing but mud; the burntlinen, which was to have served as tinder, had disappeared
! The sea hadpenetrated to the end of the passages, and everything was overthrown anddestroyed in the interior of the Chimneys!