Adrift in the Pacific-Two Years Holiday

by Jules Verne

  By the end of the second day Moko had got many hundred gallons of oil, and at that it seemed reasonable to stop, as the lighting of French Den was assured for the whole of the coming winter.

  The seals had not returned into the bay, and they were not likely to do so until time had softened the remembrance of their fright.

  Next morning the camp was struck at the dawn—to every one’s satisfaction, as may be supposed. The night before the chariot had been loaded with the casks, tools, and utensils. As it was much heavier than when it came, the guanacos could not draw it along very quickly, and there was an appreciable rise in the ground towards Family Lake.

  At the moment of departure the air was filled with the deafening cries of a thousand birds of prey—buzzards and falcons come from the interior of the island to feed on the remains of the seals and leave no trace of them.

  Then, with a last salute to the ensign on Auckland Hill, and a last look out into the Pacific, the little troop began their march up the right bank of Zealand River.

  The return was uneventful. In spite of the difficulties of the road the guanacos did their work so well, and the bigger boys helped them so judiciously, that they were back at French Den by six o’clock.

  The following days were occupied in the usual labours. A trial was made of the seal oil in the lanterns, and, although the light was moderate enough, it was agreed it would answer the purpose, and there was no fear of having to spend the winter in darkness.

  Christmas was coming, and Gordon wished it to be kept with some solemnity. It would be a reminder to them of their lost country, and a messenger of the heart, as it were, to their absent friends. If the children could have made themselves heard, how they would have shouted, ‘We are here—all of us! all of us are living. We shall see you again. God will bring us to you!’

  Yes! They still hoped that one day they would see their friends at Auckland again.

  The announcement was therefore made that on the 25th and 26th of December there would be holiday at French Den. Work would be suspended for these two days. They would keep the first Christmas on Charman Island as it was kept in the old country.

  The proposition was greeted with enthusiasm. On the 25th there would be a great state banquet, for which Moko promised something marvellous; and he and Service were in mysterious consultation, while Dole and Costar tried in vain to discover the secret of their deliberations.

  The great day arrived. Over the door of the cave Baxter and Wilcox had artistically grouped the schooner’s flags, so as to give a festive air to French Den.

  In the morning a salute from a cannon awoke the echoes of Auckland Hill. This was one of the two guns, stationed at the entrance, which Donagan had fired in honour of the occasion.

  Then the youngsters went to the bigger boys, and wished them the compliments of the season. There was even an address to the chief of Charman Island, recited by Costar, who did not do so badly.

  The boys wore their best clothes for the occasion. The weather was magnificent In the afternoon there were sports on the terrace, in which all took part. On board the yacht there had been many of the needful materials for athletic games—cricket-bats and balls, footballs, bowls, and some fives balls, The little ones enjoyed themselves immensely. All went off well. There were no disputes and no quarrels. It is true that Briant devoted himself to amusing the youngsters, while Donagan and his habitual companions, Webb, Cross, and Wilcox, made up a party of their own, but that was to be expected. When the dinner was announced another gun was fired, and the boys took their seats in high expectation.

  On the large table, covered with a beautiful white cloth, there was a Christmas-tree in a pot, covered with verdure and flowers. Moko had surpassed himself in the bill of fare, and very proud he was of the compliments addressed to him and his able collaborateur, the smiling Service. An agouti stewed, a salmi of tinamous, a roast hare stuffed with aromatic herbs, an ostrich with the wings expanded and the beak in the air, three tins of preserved vegetables, a pudding—and such a pudding—in which the traditional raisins of Corinth mingled with the fruits of the algarrobe. There was even tea and coffee at dessert; and in fact, everything to help to keep a proper Christmas on Charman Island.

  And then Briant cordially proposed Gordon’s health, who replied by drinking to the health of the little colony and their absent friends. And then Costar rose, and in the name of the little ones, thanked Briant for the way in which he had looked after them; and there was much cheering.

  CHAPTER II—ACROSS THE LAKE.

  EIGHT days afterwards the year 1861 began, and in the southern hemisphere New Year’s Day is at midsummer.

  It was nearly ten months since the boys had been wrecked, and thrown on this island eighteen hundred leagues away from New Zealand. During this time, as we have seen, their position had gradually improved; and it seemed as though now they were at least secure of the necessaries of life.

  But still they were abandoned on an unknown Island! Would the help from without—the only help they could hope for—come before the end of the hot season? Would the colony have to endure the rigours of a second antarctic winter. Hitherto there had been no illness. All, young and old, had been as well as possible. Owing to Gordon’s care—and not without an occasional grumble at his strictness—no imprudence, no excess had been committed. But if the present was prosperous enough, the future could only be contemplated with anxiety.

  Briant’s constant thought was to get away from Charman Island. But with the only boat they possessed, the yawl, how could they venture on a voyage that would be a long one even if the island did not belong to one of the Pacific Archipelagoes? Even if two or three of the boldest of the boys ventured in search of land to the eastward, how few were the chances that they would reach it! Could they build a boat large enough to carry them? Certainly not! That would be beyond their strength, for Briant’s only idea of a boat was one that would carry them all.

  All they could do was to wait, and work to make themselves comfortable at French Den. And, if not this summer, when they had almost enough to do to prepare for the winter, at least next, they could finish the exploration of their island.

  Resolutely they set to work. Experience had taught them how rigorous the winter could be. For weeks, for months even, bad weather might oblige them to remain in the hall, and they must above all things be prepared against cold and hunger, the two enemies they had most to fear.

  To fight the cold in French Den was only a question of fuel; and the autumn, short as it might be, could not close until Gordon had enough wood in store to keep the stoves going night and day. But ought not something to be done for the domestic animals in the enclosure and poultry yard? To shelter them in the store-room would not be very pleasant, and would certainly be unwise from a hygienic point of view. Hence the need of making the shed more habitable, and of heating it by means of a fireplace which could always keep the air at a supportable temperature. And during the first months of the new year Baxter, Briant, Service, and Moko were busily employed in this matter.

  In the equally important task of provisioning the Den for the long winter, Donagan and his companions found quite enough to do. Every day they visited the traps, snares, and nets. Whatever was caught, and was not required for daily consumption, went to swell the reserves of salted or smoked meat, which Moko was preparing with much care.

  But an exploring expedition was urgently called for; not to explore the whole of the unknown territories of Charman Island, but those only to the east of Family Lake. Did these consist of forest, marsh, or sand-hills? Had they any new resources which might be utilized?

  One day Briant had a talk with Gordon on the subject, treating it from a new point of view.

  ‘Although Baudoin’s map may be fairly correct,’ said he, ‘it is desirable that we should explore the eastern side for ourselves. We have good glasses, which Baudoin did not have, and who knows if we might not see land that he could not? His map makes Charman Island a solitary one, and it
may not be so.’

  ‘Always the same idea,’ said Gordon; ‘and you are miserable at not getting away!’

  ‘Yes, and at heart, I am sure you feel the same as I do Ought we not to do all we can to get home again as soon as possible?’

  ‘Well,’ said Gordon, ‘we will organize an expedition.’

  ‘An expedition in which we can all take part?’

  ‘No. It seems to me that six or seven of us—’

  ‘That would be too many. If they are so numerous they would only be able to get round the lake at the north or south, and who knows what difficulties they might meet with.’

  ‘What then do you propose?’

  ‘I propose to cross the lake in the yawl, and, to do that, only two or three need go.’

  ‘And who will have charge of the yawl?’

  ‘Moko,’ said Briant ‘He knows how to manage a boat, and I understand a little about it. With the sail, if the wind is fair, and with the two oars, if it is against us, we might easily manage the five or six miles across the lake and reach the watercourse, which, according to the map, runs through the eastern forest; and we could go down that to its mouth.’

  ‘Agreed. I approve of your idea. But who will go with Moko?’

  ‘I will, for I did not take part in the expedition to the north of the lake. It is my turn to be of use.’

  ‘To be of use!’ said Gordon. ‘Have you not been of great use? Have you not done more than any of the others?’

  ‘Well, we have all done our duty,’ said Briant ‘So it is agreed then?’

  ‘Yes, it is agreed. But who is to go with you? I should not propose Donagan, for you do not get on well together.’

  ‘Oh! I would agree to that willingly,’ said Briant. “Donagan is not a bad-hearted fellow. He is brave, he is clever, and were it not for his envious character he would be a capital companion. Besides, he will gradually reform when he sees that I really do not wish to push myself forward before any one; and we shall end, I am sure, in being the best friends in the world. But I was thinking of quite another travelling-companion—’

  ‘Who is that?’

  ‘My brother Jack,’ said Briant ‘I get more and more anxious about him. Evidently he has done something wrong which he will not tell us. Perhaps if he finds himself alone with me on this expedition—

  ‘That is so, Briant. Take Jack and begin your preparations at once.’

  ‘They will not take long,’ answered Briant ‘We shall not be away more than two or three days.’

  When the others heard the news of the projected expedition, Donagan was very vexed at not being allowed to take part in it, and went to Gordon, who explained that only three boys were wanted to do what was to be done, that the idea was Briant’s, whose business it was to see it through, &c.

  When Moko heard that he was going to change his employment as master-cook for that of master-mariner, he made no secret of his gratification. To go with Briant was an additional pleasure. His substitute would naturally. be Service, who revelled in the idea that he would be able to roast and stew as he liked without any one to overlook him. And Jack seemed not at all unhappy at having to leave French Den for a day or two with his brother.

  The yawl was got ready. She was rigged with a little lateen sail, which Moko bent and furled. Two guns, three revolvers, ammunition in sufficient quantity, three travelling wraps, provisions, waterproof capes in case of rain, two oars with a pair to spare; such was the outfit required for the short trip—without forgetting the copy which had been made of Baudoin’s map, in which the new names were written as they were given.

  On the 4th of February, about eight o’clock in the morning, Briant Jack, and Moko bade goodbye to their comrades, and embarked. It was a splendid morning with a light wind from the south-west The sail was set and Moko took the helm, leaving Briant to look after the sheet The surface of the lake was rippled by the intermittent breeze, and this the yawl felt more as she got further out; and in half an hour Gordon and the others from the terrace could see only a black spot which soon disappeared.

  Moko was seated aft, Briant more forward, and Jack at the foot of the mast. For an hour the high ridge of Auckland Hill remained above the horizon. But the opposite shore of the lake had not yet risen into view although it could not be far off. Unfortunately, as often happens when the sun gains in power, the wind showed a tendency to die away, and about noon it dropped to a few capricious flaws.

  ‘It is a pity,’ said Briant, ‘that the breeze has gone.’

  ‘It would have been worse if it had headed us,’ said Moko.

  ‘You are a philosopher,’ said Briant.

  ‘I don’t know what you understand by that,’ said the cabin boy; ‘but I certainly make the best of what comes.’

  ‘Well, that is philosophy.’

  ‘Then hooray for philosophy, and let us take to the oars. We must reach the shore before night if we can; and if we can’t—we can’t, that’s all.’

  ‘That’s it, Moko. I’ll take an oar, you take another, and Jack takes the helm.’

  ‘And if Master Jack steers well we shall make good way.’

  ‘Tell me what to do,’ said Jack, ‘and I’ll do my best.’

  Moko took in the sail which had even ceased to flap, for the wind had quite gone. The boys then had a morsel to eat, and then, with Moko forward and Jack at the tiller, the boat began to move to the north-east, the course being steered by compass. She was then in the centre of the large sheet of water, and just as if she were out at sea, the surface was circumscribed by the line of sky. Jack kept an anxious look-out for the shore opposite French Den.

  About three o’clock, Moko, taking the glasses, announced that he saw indications of land. A little later, Briant agreed that he was not mistaken. At four o’clock the tops of trees showed themselves rising from a low, flat shore, which Briant had been unable to detect from False Point. So the only heights on Charman Island were those of Auckland Hill.

  The boat was still from two miles and a half to three miles away from the eastern shore, Briant and Moko rowing steadily on, and getting very tired owing to the great heat The surface of the lake was like a mirror. Every now and then the bottom could be seen twelve or fifteen feet down covered with aquatic plants, among which myriads of fish were swimming.

  It was nearly six o’clock when the yawl neared the shore at the foot of a bank, above which spread the clustering branches of green oaks and sea-pines. The bank was too high for the boys to land, and they had to coast along for half a mile or so to the north.

  ‘There is the river marked on the map,’ said Briant, pointing to an opening in the bank, through which flowed the waters of the lake.

  ‘Well,’ said Moko, ‘I think we ought to give it a name.’

  ‘All right,’ said Briant, ‘let as call it East River, as it flows to the east.’

  ‘That will do,’ said Moko. ‘And now we have only to get into the stream and drift down it.’

  ‘We will do that to-morrow, Moko. We had better camp here. We can start at dawn to-morrow and explore both banks of the river.’

  ‘Shall we go ashore?’ asked Jack.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Briant ‘and camp under the trees.’

  The boys took the boat into a little creek and scrambled out on to the bank. They moored the yawl to a stump, and took out of her the arms and provisions. A good fire of dry wood was lighted at the foot of a large green oak, and they had a meal of biscuit and cold meat and were not at all sorry to get to sleep.

  ‘Come, wake up; let us be moving,’ said Briant who was the first to awake at six o’clock next morning. And in a few minutes all three were back in the boat and oat in the stream.

  The current was rather strong—the tide had turned about half an hour before—and the oars were not needed. Briant and Jack were in the bow of the yawl, while Moko, with one of the oars out astern, kept the boat in mid-stream.

  ‘It is likely,’ said Moko, ‘that we shall get down to the sea in one tid
e if East River is only six miles long, as the current is much stronger than in Zealand River.’

  ‘Let us hope so’ said Briant ‘When we come back we may have to take two or three tides.’

  ‘That may be,’ said Moko, ‘and if you like we can start with the next tide.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Briant ‘as soon as we have seen that there is no land to the eastward.’

  The yawl drifted along at a rate, Moko estimated, of about a mile an hour. According to the compass East River ran in an almost straight course to the east-northeast. It was more shut in than Zealand River, and it was not so wide, being only about thirty feet across. Briant’s only fear was that there might be some rapids or whirlpools in its course, but there would be time enough to prepare for any obstacle.

  The boys were in a forest, in which the vegetation was very thick, the trees being similar to those in Trap Woods, with this difference, that green-oaks, cork-oaks, pines and firs were in the majority.

  Among others—although his knowledge of botany was much less than Gordon’s—Briant recognized a certain tree which he had seen in New Zealand. The branches of this tree spread out in umbrella-shape quite sixty feet above the ground, and bore conical fruits three or four inches long pointed at the end, and covered with glittering scales.

  ‘That is a stone pine,’ said Briant.

  ‘If so,’ said Moko, ‘let us stop for a minute or two. It will be worth while.’

  A movement of the oar steered the yawl into the left bank. Briant and Jack jumped out. A few minutes afterwards they came back with an armful of the fruits, each of which contained a kernel of oval form, coated with a thin skin, and tasting like a hazel-nut. It was a valuable find for the gourmands of French Den, and it was also valuable—as Gordon told Briant on his return—on account of the oil that the fruits yielded.