by Jules Verne
As Francis Baudoin showed it, the island was of oblong form, and resembled an enormous butterfly with open wings. In the centre of the forest was the lake, which was eighteen miles long and five wide, dimensions enough to account for the boys not being able to see its distant shores, and then mistaking it for the sea. Many streams ran out of this lake, and notably the one in front of the cave, which entered the bay close to the camp.
The only height of importance in the island was the cliff up to the cape to the northward. The southern part was shown by the map to be arid and sandy, while beyond the stream was an immense marsh which narrowed to a point as it ran to the south. In the north-east and southeast were long lines of sandhills, which gave this part of the coast a very different aspect to that of the bay in which the schooner was wrecked.
According to the scale at the foot of the map the island was about fifty miles long from north to south, and twenty-five wide from east to west. Reckoning the irregularities of its shape, it was 150 miles in circumference. But there was no knowing to which of the Polynesian group it belonged, or if it lay by itself in the Pacific. One thing was certain, that the boys would have to stay on it; there was no getting away. And as the cave afforded an excellent refuge, it was best to bring all their goods to it before the storms had broken up the schooner.
At present the best thing to be done was to return to the camp without delay. Gordon would be getting anxious. Three days had elapsed since Briant and his comrades left him, and he would be fearing that misfortune had happened to them.
Briant suggested that they should start that very day at eleven o’clock. There was no good in climbing the cliff, as the map showed the shortest way was to follow the right bank of the river to the bay which ran from east to west At the most this would be about seven miles and take but a few hours.
But before leaving, the boys paid the last mark of respect to the shipwrecked Frenchman. With the pickaxe they dug a grave at the foot of the tree on which Francois Baudoin had cut his initials, and a wooden cross marked the spot.
This pious ceremony over, they returned to the cave, and closed the entrance, so that animals could not get in. Then, having finished what was left of their provisions, they started along the right bank of the stream by the base of the cliff. In an hour they reached the spot where the high ground trended off to the north-west. Along the river the road was easy, for the bank was clear of shrubs and trees.
As they walked, Briant took careful note of the river, bearing in mind that it ran from the lake into the bay. It seemed to him that on the upper part of its course at least a boat or raft might be towed or poled along, and this would make the transport of the goods easy, particularly if advantage were taken of the tide, which ran up into the lake. In its course there were no rapids, and no narrows or shallows to make it unnavigable. For the first three miles after it left the lake, everything seemed favourable for his plan.
But about four o’clock in the afternoon the road by the bank had to be abandoned. The stream ran into a wide marsh which could not be crossed without risk, and the boys thought it best to take to the forest.
Compass in hand, Briant led the way to the north-east, so as to gain the bay by the shortest road. But considerable delay was occasioned by the closeness of the thickets; and under the dense shade of the birches, pines, and beeches, darkness fell as the sun set.
Two miles were accomplished in this tiring manner. After getting round the marsh, which stretched a long way to the north, the best plan would undoubtedly have been to return to the river bank, but this would have added so much to the length of the journey that Briant and Donagan decided it was not worth the loss of time. So they kept on through the forest until about seven o’clock, when they discovered that they had somehow gone astray.
Would they be obliged to pass the night under the trees? They might have done this pretty comfortably had not all the provisions been exhausted.
‘Come on!’ said Briant ‘If we keep to the west, we must reach the camp.’
‘Unless the map is wrong,’ said Donagan, ‘and that was not the stream which runs into the bay.’
‘Why should the map be wrong, Donagan?’
‘And why should it not be, Briant?’
Evidently Donagan had not yet digested his discomfiture, and was prepared to throw doubt on Baudoin’s statements. Why was not clear, for as far as the boys had gone the map had proved to be fairly correct.
Briant saw no advantage in disputing the matter, and strode off to the west.
At eight o’clock the night bad become so dark that it was impossible to see ahead of them; and the end of the forest seemed as far off as ever.
Suddenly through a gap in the trees a bright light shot through the air.
‘What is that?’ asked Service.
‘A meteorite probably,’ said Wilcox.
‘No, It was a rocket!’ answered Briant
‘A rocket from the schooner.’
‘And consequently a signal!’ exclaimed Donagan, firing his gun in answer to Gordon.
A star was recognized ahead. From it a new departure was being taken when a second rocket sped through the darkness. Briant and his companions directed their course towards it, and three quarters of an hour afterwards they reached the schooner.
CHAPTER X—THE RAFT.
THE reception the explorers met with can be imagined. Gordon, Cross, Baxter, Garnett and Webb, clasped them in their arms, while the little ones threw their arms around their necks and shouted for joy. Fan took part in the rejoicing, and barked as loudly as the youngsters cheered. It seemed so long since Briant and his companions had gone away.
‘Were they lost? Had they fallen among savages? Had they been attacked by cannibals?’ Such were the questions those who remained behind had asked themselves.
But Briant Donagan, Wilcox, and Service had come back again to tell them the story of their expedition. As, however, they were very tired after their long day’s work, the story was postponed till the morning. ‘We are on an island!’
That was all Briant said, and that was enough to reveal the troubles in store for them, although Gordon received the news without betraying much discouragement.
‘Good! I’ll wait,’ he seemed to say to himself, ‘and not trouble myself about it till it comes.’
Next morning—the 5th of April—Gordon, Briant, Donagan, Baxter, Cross, Wilcox, Service, Webb, Garnett, and also Moko, whose advice was always valuable, gathered together in the bow of the yacht, while the others were still asleep. In turns Briant and Donagan told their comrades all that had happened. They told them how a causeway across a stream, and the remains of an ajoupa had led them to believe that the country was inhabited. They explained how the wide sheet of water they had at first taken for the sea was nothing but a lake; how fresh traces they had come upon led them to the cave, near where the stream flowed out of the lake; how the bones of Francis Baudoin had been discovered; and how the map made by him showed that it was an island on which the schooner had been wrecked.
The story was told in full, neither Briant nor Donagan omitting the smallest detail; and now all who looked at the map understood only too well that help could come to them but from the sea.
However, if the future presented itself in the gloomiest colours, and the boys could only place their hope in God, there was one who felt much less alarmed than the others, and that was Gordon. The young American had no relatives in New Zealand. And to his practical, methodical, organizing mind, there was nothing so very difficult in the task of founding a colony. He saw the chance that offered for the exercise of his natural gift, and he did not hesitate to keep up the spirits of his comrades by promising them a supportable existence if they would only help him.
And in the first place, as the island was of considerable size, it seemed impossible that it was not marked on the map of the Pacific near the American coast. They turned to the atlas, but no island of importance could they find outside the Archipelagoes which include the Fue
gian or Magellanic Islands, and those of Desolation, Queen Adelaide, Clarence, &c., &c. If it had been in one of these Archipelagoes, and only separated from the continent by narrow channels, Baudoin would certainly have shown it on his map, and this he had not done. It must be an isolated island, and probably more to the north or the south than these Archipelagoes. But without the necessary elements or instruments it was impossible to fix its position in the Pacific.
All that could be done at present was to take up their quarters and make themselves comfortable before the wet season had made it impossible to move.
‘The best thing to do,’ said Briant, ‘is to move into the cave near the lake. It would make a capital place to live in.’
‘Is it large enough to hold the lot of us?’ asked Baxter.
‘No,’ answered Donagan, ‘but I think we could make it larger by digging out another cave from it. We have tools—’
‘Let us try it first as it is,’ said Gordon, ‘and if it is too small we can—’
‘And let us get there as soon as we can,’ interrupted Briant.
The matter was urgent. As Gordon had said, the schooner became less habitable every day. The late rains and the hot sun had opened up the cracks in the hull and deck considerably. The torn sails allowed the wind and water to find their way inside. The sand on which it rested had been undermined, and it had slanted further over and sunk deeper into the sand. If a storm were to come, there was every chance of the wreck going to pieces in a few hours. The sooner the boys cleared out the better, and it would be well for them to take the hull to pieces methodically, so as to secure all that would be useful, such as beams, planks, iron, copper, with a view of properly fitting up ‘French Den,’ as the cave had been called in memory of the shipwrecked Frenchman.
‘And in the meantime where shall we live?’ asked Donagan.
‘In a tent,’ answered Gordon. ‘In a tent under the trees by the river-side.’
‘That is the best thing,’ said Briant, ‘and let us begin without losing an hour.’
The demolition of the yacht, the unloading of the material and provisions, the construction of a raft for the transport of the cargo, would take at least a month of hard work, and before leaving the bay it would be the first week of May, which corresponds to the first week in November in the northern hemisphere, that is to say, the beginning of winter.
Gordon had chosen the bank of the river as the site of the tent because the transport was to take place by water. No other way was more direct or convenient. To carry all that remained of the yacht through the forest or along the bank of the river, would have been almost impossible; but by taking advantage of the tide, a raft could be got up the river without much trouble.
In its upper course, as Briant had discovered, the stream contained no obstacle in the way of falls, rapids, or bars. An expedition to reconnoitre its lower course from the swamp to the mouth was made in the yawl; and Briant and Moko assured themselves that the river was navigable in that part as well. There was thus an unbroken line of communication between the bay and French Den.
The days that followed were employed in arranging the camp at the side of the river. The lower branches of two beeches were united by long spars with the branches of a third, and were used to hold up the yacht’s spare mainsail, which fell down on each side to the ground. Into this tent which was firmly stayed and strutted, they transported the bedding and furniture, the weapons and ammunition, and the bales of provisions. As the raft was to be built of the timbers of the yacht, they had to wait till they had demolished the wreck before they began to build it.
There was nothing to complain of in the weather, which continued dry. When there was a wind, it came from the land, and the work went on uninterruptedly.
By the 15th of April there only remained on the schooner such things as were too heavy to move until she had broken up—among them the pigs of lead used for ballast, the water-tanks in the hold, the windlass, and the galley, which were too heavy to be taken away without apparatus. The spars and rigging, shrouds, and stays of iron, chains, anchors, ropes, hawsers, lines, yarns, and such things, of which there was a great quantity on the yacht, were gradually removed to the ground near the tent.
Busy as they were with this work, the wants of each day were not neglected. Donagan, Webb, and Wilcox devoted a few hours to shooting the rock pigeons and the birds frequenting the marsh. The youngsters went searching for mollusks when the tide left the reef bare. It was pleasant to see Jenkins, Iverson, Dole, and Costar hunting about in the pools like a lot of ducklings, and sometimes getting their legs wet so as to be scolded by the severe Gordon, and excused by the gentler Briant. Jack also went out with the youngsters, but he never joined in their shouts of laughter.
Things went on satisfactorily and methodically, thanks to Gordon, whose sound common sense was seldom at fault. Evidently Donagan gave in to him when he would not give into Briant or any one else. And harmony reigned in the little world.
But there was need of despatch. The second fortnight of April was less fine. The mean temperature sensibly fell, and many times during the early morning the thermometric column fell below freezing. The winter was coming, and with it would appear its retinue of hail and snow, and storm.
The young and the old began to clothe themselves more warmly, to put on the thick jerseys and jackets. To find them was easy enough, for they were down all in Gordon’s note-book, arranged in qualities and sizes. The youngest boys were Briant’s especial care. He saw that they had not cold feet, and that they did not dawdle in the cold air when they were out for a swim; at the least cold in their heads he made them sleep near the fire, which he kept in night and day; and often he kept Dole and Costar in the tent while Moko gave them gruel and physic from the schooner’s medicine-chest.
When the schooner had been emptied of all it contained, the hull, which had broken apart in many places, was attacked. The sheets of copper sheathing were taken off very carefully. Then the pincers, and crowbars, and hammers were brought into play to rip off the planks which the nails and trenails fastened to the frame. This was a troublesome task for inexperienced hands and not very vigorous arms. And the breaking up went on very slowly until on the 25th of April a storm came to help.
During the night, although they were already in the cold season, a thunderstorm occurred. The lightning played across the sky, and the rolling of the thunder lasted from midnight to sunrise, to the great terror of the little ones. It did not rain fortunately, but twice or thrice it was necessary to support the tent against the fury of the wind. Owing to its being fixed to the trees it remained undamaged; not so the yacht which lay directly exposed to the gusts from the offing and the full force of the waves.
The demolition was complete. The planks were torn off, the frame broken up, the keel smashed, and the whole thing reduced to wreckage. And there was nothing to complain of in the way it was done, for the waves as they retired carried off but a small portion of the wreck which for the most part was kept back by the reef. The ironwork was easily picked up out of the sand, and all the boys set to work during the next day or so to collect it The beams, planks, water-tanks, and other things which had not been swept away, lay scattered on the beach, and all that had to be done was to transport them to the right bank of the stream a few yards from the tent.
It was a heavy job, but in time it was done, though not without a good deal of fatigue. It was curious to see the boys all hanging on to a heavy piece of wood, hauling it along and encouraging each other with many a shout. The heavier timbers were rolled on bits of round wood and levered along by spars. The most difficult things to move were the windlass, the galley stove, and the iron tanks, which were of considerable weight. If the boys had only had some practical man to guide them! If Briant had had his father, Garnett his, the engineer and the captain would have saved them from many mistakes they committed, and would again commit. Baxter, who was very intelligent in mechanical matters, displayed much cleverness and zeal; it was on h
is advice, with the concurrence of Moko, that tackles were fixed to piles driven into the sand, and thereby tenfold strength given to the boys, so as to enable them to finish their task.
In short, on the evening of the 28th, all that remained of the schooner had been taken to the place of embarkation; and without doubt the worst of the enterprise was over, for the river was to take the material up to French Den.
‘To-morrow,’ said Gordon, ‘we will begin to build the raft.’
‘Yes,’ said Baxter; ‘and to save any trouble in launching it I propose to build it in the river.’
‘That will not be easy,’ said Donagan.
‘Never mind,’ answered Gordon, ‘we will try. If it gives us more trouble to get together, it will not trouble us to get it afloat.’
There could be no doubt this was the best way; and next morning they began the framework of the raft, which was to be of sufficiently large dimensions to receive a heavy and crowded cargo.
The beams from the schooner, the keel broken in two pieces, the foremast what remained of the mainmast broken three feet above the deck, the rails, and the midship beam, the bowsprit, the fore-yard, the main-boom and the gaff, had been taken to a part of the river beach which the water only covered at high tide. The boys waited till the tide rose, and then the wood was brought out into the stream. There the largest pieces were placed side by side, and bound together, with the others placed crossways.
In this way a solid framework was obtained, measuring about thirty feet long and fifteen feet wide. All day long the boys worked hard at the raft, and by nightfall the framework was complete. Briant then took care to move it to the trees on the bank, so that the rising tide could not carry it up stream, or the ebb take it out to sea. Then every one, thoroughly tired out after such a laborious day, sat down to supper with a formidable appetite, and slept soundly till the morning.
At dawn they again set to work. A platform had now to be built on the framework. The deck planks and streaks of the schooner’s hull now came into use. Nails driven in with heavy hammer-strokes, and ropes passed over and under, fastened everything firmly together.