Adrift in the Pacific-Two Years Holiday

by Jules Verne

  It was important to discover if the forest had as many animals as those on the other side of the lake, and Briant kept his eyes open. He saw a lot of nandus in full flight and a herd of vicugnas, and even a couple of guanacos ran past with incredible swiftness; and as to the birds, Donagan ought to have been there for a shot or two. But Briant resisted the temptation to waste his powder, as the yawl was amply provisioned.

  Towards eleven o’clock the trees began to open out. Here and there little gaps and glades were noticed. The breeze was more and more impregnated with a saline odour, indicating the nearness of the sea. A few minutes later, beyond a clump of superb green oaks, a bluish line appeared. It was the horizon.

  The yawl still drifted down with the tide, but more slowly now than at first The ebb was hardly perceptible now, and East River had become nearly fifty feet wide.

  They reached the rocks by the sea-shore; Moko steered the boat into the left bank, and then, carrying the grapnel to land, he stuck it firmly into the ground.

  Here was quite a different state of affairs to that on the other side of the island. It was a deep bay, but instead of the wide, sandy beach and line of reefs and lofty cliffs as on Wreck Coast, there was a mass of rocks, among which, as Briant soon found, there were at least a score of caves.

  This side of the island was consequently well fitted for habitation, and if the schooner had come ashore here, and it had been possible to float her afterwards, she could have been taken into the little harbour at the mouth of the river, where, even at low tide, there was always water.

  Briant looked away out to sea, to the far horizon stretching for some fifteen miles from point to point of two sandy promontories. The long bay, or gulf rather, was deserted—as it doubtless always was. Not a ship was in sight. On land or sea there was no sign of man. Moko, accustomed to recognize the vague lineaments of distant hills, moulded and marked with clouds, could discover nothing with his glasses.

  Charman Island seemed to be as lonely in the east as it was in the west. And that was why Baudoin’s map showed no land in that direction. And Briant contented himself with naming the gap in the coast Deception Bay.

  ‘Come,’ said he, ‘it is not from this side we shall start when we go back.’

  ‘I think we had better have something to eat,’ said Moko.

  ‘Right,’ said Briant, ‘but be quick. When can we get back up the river?’

  ‘If you want to go by this tide, you ought to start at once.’

  ‘That is impossible. I must have a good look round the horizon from some high point.’

  ‘Then we shall have to wait for the next tide, and that means ten o’clock to-night.’

  ‘Are you afraid to travel during the night?’ asked Briant.

  ‘No,’ said Moko, ‘and there would be no danger, for we shall have the moon. Besides the course of the river is so straight that we can steer the boat with an oar all right And if the stream meets us we can row up, or if it is too strong we can run ashore and wait till it is day.’

  ‘Then let it be so,’ said Briant, ‘and now we have twelve hours before us, let us make the most of them to complete an exploration.’

  And the time was spent in visiting this part of the coast where the trees came down to the very edge of the rocks. The birds were as numerous as at French Den, and Briant was able to shoot a few tinamous for supper.

  The main feature of the coast was the heaped-up granite masses that made the place a sort of field of Karnak, where the arrangement owed nothing to the hand of man.

  In the space of half a mile Briant found a dozen halls and store-rooms that would have sufficed for the wants of the little colony.

  He was naturally led to inquire why Baudoin had not taken up his quarters on this side of the island. There was no doubt he had visited it, for the main lines of the coast were accurately shown on the map. That he had left no trace behind him was probably because he had fixed his domicile at French Den, before he had explored this eastern territory, and finding the shore more exposed to the storms from the sea, had thought it best to remain where he was.

  At two o’clock, when the sun had passed the zenith, the time appeared favourable for a careful examination of the offing. Briant, Jack, and Moko set to work to scale an enormous rock which in outline somewhat resembled a bear. The block was about a hundred feet away from the little harbour, and it was not without difficulty that they clambered to its top.

  When there, they looked back over the island. To the west lay Family Lake, screened by a thick mass of verdure; to the south the country was seamed with yellow sandhills bordered by blackish firs as in the arid plains of the north; to the north the outline of the bay ended in a low promontory which formed the limit of an immense sandy plain stretching beyond. In short, Charman Island was only fertile in its contral portions, where the sweet waters of the lake spread life around as they flowed off to the sea.

  Briant then turned his glasses to the east, where the horizon was now as clear as could be. Any land within seven or eight miles would certainly have been noticeable.

  There was nothing in that direction, nothing but the sea and the unbroken line of sky.

  For an hour Briant, Jack, and Moko continued to look around them, and they were about to descend to the beach again when Moko suddenly stretched out his hand to the north-east, and asked, —

  ‘What is that?’

  Briant brought his glasses to bear on the spot indicated.

  A little above the horizon was a whitish stain that the eye might have taken for a cloud, had not the sky been quite clear at the time. Briant kept it in the field of his glasses for a long time, and announced that it remained stationary, and its form did not alter.

  ‘I do not know what that can be,’ he said, ‘unless it is a mountain, and a mountain would not look like that.’

  A few minutes afterwards the sun had sunk more to the west, and the spot had disappeared. Was it some high peak, or a luminous reflection from the waters, as Jack and Moko suggested?

  Soon all three were back at the mouth of East River, where the yawl was moored. Jack collected some dry wood from under the trees, and then he lighted the fire while Moko cooked the roast tinamous.

  At seven o’clock Jack and Briant were walking along the beach, waiting for the tide to turn, and Moko had gone off up the river-bank in search of a stone pine from which he thought he would like a few fruits.

  When he returned to the mouth of the river night had begun to close in. Away out at sea the waves were still lighted by the last rays of the sun, but the shore was plunged in semi-darkness.

  When Moko reached the boat, Briant and his brother had not returned. As they could not be far off, he was in no way anxious about them.

  But he was surprised to hear a violent sobbing, and then the sound of a loud voice. He could not be deceived; it was Briant’s.

  Were the brothers In any danger? Moko did not hesitate to run off at once along the beach and round the rocks which shut in the little harbour.

  Suddenly he saw something which made him halt.

  Jack was on his knees before Briant! He seemed to be pleading with him, to be begging for pardon! And his were the sobs Moko had heard.

  The cabin-boy would have run back, but it was too late. He had heard and understood! He knew now what Jack had done, and what he had just confessed, and why Briant was exclaiming, —

  ‘You stupid boy! It was you—you who did it! You are the cause!’

  ‘Forgive me! forgive me!’

  ‘That is why you keep apart from the rest! That is why you are afraid of them! May they never know! No! Not a word—not a word—to any one!’

  Moko would have given much not to have known the secret. But to pretend not to know it now he was face to face with Briant would never do. And a few minutes afterwards, when he found him alone by the boat, he said to him, —

  ‘I overheard—’

  ‘What!’ said Briant, ‘you know that it was Jack?’

  ‘Yes,
and you must forgive him.’

  ‘But will the others forgive him?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Moko. ‘In any case, better they should know nothing. I’ll keep silence, you may depend.’

  ‘Ah! poor Moko!’ said Briant, clasping him by the hand.

  For two hours up to the time of embarking, Briant did not say a word to Jack, who remained sitting at the foot of a rock close by, and evidently nearly broken-hearted now that he had made his confession.

  About ten o’clock the flood-tide began to make itself felt, and Briant, Jack, and Moko took their seats in the boat. As soon as the grapnel was taken up she began to move with the current.

  The moon had risen shortly after sunset, and made navigation practicable till half-past midnight. When the ebb set in, the oars were got out, and after an hour’s pulling not a mile up stream was gained.

  Briant then prepared to anchor until daybreak, when the tide would flow again, and this was done. At six o’clock the voyage was resumed, and at nine o’clock the yawl was back in Family Lake. There Moko re-hoisted the sail, and with a fair beam wind steered straight for French Den.

  About six o’clock in the evening, after a pleasant voyage, during which neither Briant nor Jack hardly spoke a word, the yawl was hailed by Garnett, who was out fishing on the bank; and a few minutes later she ran alongside, where Gordon gave her passengers a hearty welcome.

  CHAPTER III—THE NEW CHIEF.

  BRIANT thought it best to say nothing of what had passed between him and his brother, even to Gordon. But the story of his trip he told to all as they sat round him that evening.

  He described the eastern coast of Charman Island all round Deception Bay; he told them how East River ran through the forest, and how rich the forest was in trees of all kinds. He stated that better quarters could be found on the east than on the west, if it ever became necessary to abandon French Den. As to the sea, there was no land in sight, but he mentioned the strange white patch above the horizon which he could not explain. Probably it was merely a column of vapour, and would be explained when the next visit occurred to Deception Bay. In short, it was only too certain that Charman Island had no land near it, and doubtless many hundred miles divided it from the continent or the nearest archipelagoes.

  The boys had therefore to resume their struggle for existence, awaiting some help from without, for it seemed unlikely that they would ever be able to do anything of themselves towards a rescue. They set to work vigorously preparing for the winter. Briant worked more zealously than ever; and it was noticed that he had become less communicative, and that like his brother he rather kept himself away from the rest. Gordon, in taking note of this change in his character, observed that Briant was always seeking to put Jack to the front on every occasion in which pluck had to be shown or danger ran, and that Jack eagerly accepted such tasks. But as Briant had said nothing to him, and gave him no opportunity of asking, Gordon remained silent, although he suspected that an explanation had taken place between the brothers.

  The month of February was passed in various ways. Wilcox had found the salmon swimming up the river to the fresh waters of Family Lake, and many were caught in nets stretched from bank to bank. To preserve them required a large quantity of salt, and to get this a great many journeys were needed to Schooner Bay, where Baxter and Briant had established a small salt-marsh—a square pool in which the sea-water was evaporated by the sun and deposited the salt.

  In the first fortnight of March three or four of the young colonists went off to explore a part of the marshy district of South Moors which lay across Zealand River. This expedition was Donagan’s idea, and at his suggestion Baxter made several pairs of stilts out of the light span. As the marsh was in places covered with a shallow sheet of water, these stilts allowed their wearers to stride along dry footed.

  In the morning of April 17th, Donagan, Webb, and Wilcox crossed the river and landed on the left bank. They carried their guns slung over their shoulders, and Donagan had a duck-gun with him, from the arsenal of French Den, which he thought he would have a favourable opportunity to use.

  As soon as the three reached the bank they put on their stilts and set out for the higher part of the marsh, which was dry even at high tide. Fan accompanied them. She did not want stilts, as she did not mind wetting her feet in crossing the pools.

  Donagan, Wilcox, and Webb went about a mile in a south-westerly direction before they reached the dry ground, and they then took off their stilts, so as to be at their ease in pursuit of the game which swarmed over the wide extent of moor: —snipe, pintail, wild duck, rail, plover, teal, and thousands of scoters, worth more for their down than their flesh, but very fine eating when properly cooked. Donagan and his comrades could shoot at hundreds of these innumerable aquatic birds without wasting a single shot; and they were not unreasonable, and contented themselves with a few dozen birds which Fan retrieved in fine style from the pools of the marsh.

  Donagan was strongly tempted to bring down a few other things which could not well figure on the Den table, notwithstanding all the cabin-boy’s ability. Among these was a few thinocores belonging to the family of waders, and some herons decked with a brilliant aigrette of white plumes. To shoot them would been mere waste of powder, and Donagan refrained from molesting them, but he could not resist temptation when he saw a flock of flamingoes with wings the colour of fire, and flesh as good as that of the partridge. The favourite haunt of these birds is among brackish waters, and here they were all in array, guarded by sentinels giving a sort of trumpet-call when they signalled danger. At the sight of these magnificent specimens of the island’s ornithology Donagan yielded without more ado, and Wilcox and Webb were no wiser, and off they started in pursuit—and in vain. They forgot that if they had approached without being seen and fired at their ease, the flamingoes would have been stupefied by the reports, and not had sense enough to run away.

  In vain the three boys tried to get near these superb palmipeds, which measure more than four feet from beak to tail. The alarm had been given, and the flock disappeared in the south unhurt, although even the duck-gun was brought into action against them. Nevertheless the three sportsmen returned with bags quite heavy enough to give no cause for regret that they had visited South Moors.

  Gordon had no intention of waiting for the winter before French Den was prepared for it. There was a store of food to be got in, so that there should be enough for the enclosure as well as the cave. Many were the trips made to Bog Woods for this purpose. The chariot drawn by the two guanacos made several journeys daily for a fortnight. The winter might last more than the six months, and yet there would be enough wood and seal oil to give fire and light all through it.

  These labours did not interfere with the scheme of instruction that had been drawn up. The bigger boys took it in turns to teach the little ones. Donagan continued to show off a little—as was natural to him, but it did not gain him any friends. In two months Gordon’s term of office would be over, and he reckoned on succeeding him as chief of the colony. He persuaded himself that the position was his as a matter of right. Was it not unjust that he had not been elected at the first? Wilcox, Cross, and Webb unfortunately encouraged him in these ideas, and began to canvass for him, having no doubt of his success.

  But Donagan, all the same, did not command a majority of the votes; nor did Gordon, who saw clearly all that was going on, and, although he was eligible for re-election, made no attempt to obtain a continuance of office. He felt that the severity he had had to show during his year of office would not gain him any votes. His practical good sense had not made him popular, and this unpopularity Donagan hoped to turn to good account. When the election came on there would probably be a somewhat interesting contest.

  What the youngsters chiefly complained of was Gordon’s economy in the matter of sweetmeats. And in addition to this, there was his scolding them for not taking proper care of their clothes when they came back to French Den with rags on their backs and holes in their
shoes—which required constant repairs, and made the question of foot gear a very serious one. And then for every lost button, what reprimands, and sometimes what punishments!

  And then Briant would intercede sometimes for Jenkins sometimes for Dole, —and in that waylay his road to popularity. Then the youngsters knew that the two cooks, Service and Moko, were devoted to Briant, and if ever he became chief of Charman Island, they saw a savoury future in which there would be a never-ending course of jam tarts and dainty bits!

  What is the world coming to? In this very colony we have but a type of society in general. In what did these children differ from full-grown men?

  Briant took little interest in these things. He worked away steadily, and keeping his brother fully employed, both of them the first and last at work as if they had some special duty to fulfil.

  But the days were not entirely devoted to school work. There were hours of recreation set down in the programme. One of the conditions of remaining in health was that gymnastic exercises should be practised in which old and young took part. The boys climbed trees, getting up to the lower boughs by means of a rope wound round the trunk. They jumped with and without the pole. They swam in the lake, and those who could not swim were soon taught to do so. They ran races and swam races for prizes. They practised with the bolas and the lasso. They played cricket and rounders and quoits, and with regard to the last, a dispute occurred which had very serious consequences.

  It was on the 25th of April, in the afternoon. Eight of the boys were playing, four on a side; Donagan, Webb, Wilcox and Cross, against Briant, Baxter, Garnett, and Service.

  On the level strip on the terrace the two ‘pins’ had been driven into the ground about fifty feet apart, and it was, of course, the object of the players to throw their quoits on to them, or as near them as possible. The players were greatly excited, particularly as Donagan was opposed to Briant. Two games had been played. Briant’s side had won the first with seven points; Donagan’s had won the second with six. And now they were playing the conqueror, and there were only two quoits to throw.