by Jules Verne
Ernest, on the other hand, argued that the vessel would perhaps try to take refuge in Deliverance Bay if it happened to double the cape to the east.
"That is possible, it is true," M. Zermatt replied.
"and is even very much to be wished, provided it is not pirates we have to deal with."
"Well, we will keep watch, Papa," said Frank. "We will keep watch all day, and all night, too."
"If we could get to Prospect Hill, or even only to Falconhurst," Jack added, "we should be in a better position still to keep watch over the sea."
Obviously, but it was idle to think of that. During the afternoon the weather became worse. The fury of the squalls was twice as violent. The rain fell in such torrents that Jackal River overflowed its banks, and Family Bridge was within an ace of being swept away. M. Zermatt and his sons kept an unceasing vigil, and it was all they could do to prevent the flood from invading the enclosure of Rock Castle. Betsy and Jenny were unable to set foot outside. Never did day pass more heavily, and if the ship went away was it not only too certain that it would not return to these same waters?
When night came, the violence of the storm increased further. On the advice of M. Zermatt, who was compelled by his children to take some rest, Fritz, Jack, and Frank took it in turns to watch until day. From the gallery, which they did not leave, they had a view of the sea as far as Shark's Island. If any ship's light had appeared at the mouth of the bay they would have seen it; if any gun had rung out they would have heard it, in spite of the tumult of the waves which were breaking upon the rocks with an appalling din. When the squall abated, somewhat, all four wrapped themselves in their oilskins and went as far as the mouth of Jackal River, to satisfy themselves that the launch and the pinnace had not dragged their anchors.
The storm lasted for forty-eight hours. During the whole of that time M. Zermatt and his sons were barely able to get as far as halfway to Falconhurst in order to survey a wider sweep of horizon. The sea, white with the foam of rolling waves, was absolutely deserted. Indeed, no ship would have dared to venture close to shore during a storm like this.
M. Zermatt and his wife had already given up their hopes. Ernest, Jack, and Frank, who had been accustomed to their present existence since childhood, did not very greatly regret the loss of this opportunity. But Fritz regretted it for their sake, or rather for Jenny's sake.
If the ship had gone away and were never to return to these waters, what a disappointment it would be for Colonel Montrose's daughter! The chance of being restored to her father was slipping away. How long a time would elapse before this opportunity of returning to Europe would present itself again! Would it ever do so, indeed?
"Don't give up hope! Don't give up hope!" Fritz said over and over again, overwhelmed by Jenny's distress. "This ship will come back, or some other must come, since New Switzerland is now known!"
During the night of the nth of October the wind veered back to the north and the spell of bad weather came to an end. Inside Deliverance Bay the sea dropped quickly, and with daybreak the rollers ceased to sweep onto Rock Castle beach.
The whole family left the enclosure and turned their eyes out to the open sea.
"Let us go to Shark's Island," was Fritz's immediate suggestion. "There is no risk for the canoe."
"What will you do there?" Mme. Zermatt asked.
"Perhaps the ship is still lying up under shelter of the coast; and even supposing it was compelled by the storm to stand out to sea, may it not have come back again? Let us fire a few guns, and if they are answered—"
"Yes, Fritz, yes!" cried Jenny eagerly.
"Fritz is right," said M. Zermatt. "We must not neglect any chance. If the ship is there she will hear us and make herself heard."
The canoe was ready in a few minutes. But as Fritz was about to take his seat in it M. Zermatt advised him to remain at Rock Castle with his mother, his brothers, and Jenny. Jack would accompany his father. They would take a flag in order to indicate whether there was any good news or whether any danger threatened them. In the latter case M. Zermatt would wave the flag three times and then throw it into the sea, and Fritz was at once to take the whole family to Falconhurst. M. Zermatt and Jack would join them there as speedily as possible, and if necessary they would then take refuge at Wood Grange or Sugar-cane Grove, or even at the hermitage at Eberfurt. On the other hand, if M. Zermatt waved his flag twice and then planted it near the battery, that would signify that there was no ground for anxiety, and Fritz would await his return at Rock Castle.
Jack had brought the canoe to the foot of the rocks. He and his father stepped into it. A few cables' length outside the creek the heavy swell had given place to a slightly choppy sea. Driven by its paddles the boat sped rapidly towards Shark's Island.
M. Zermatt's heart beat fast when he drew alongside the end of the island; and it was at the top of their speed that he and Jack climbed the little hill.
Outside the hangar they stopped. From that point their eyes swept the wide horizon between the eastern cape and False Hope Point.
Not a sail was to be seen upon the sea, which was still rolling heavily far out.
Just as they were about to go inside the hangar M. Zermatt said for the last time to Jack:
"You are quite sure you heard—"
"Absolutely positive," Jack answered. "They really were reports that came from the eastward."
"God grant it!" said M. Zermatt.
As the guns had been reloaded by Fritz they only needed to have the match applied.
"Jack," said M. Zermatt, "you are to fire two shots at an interval of two minutes, and then you will reload the first gun and fire a third time."
"Very well, papa," Jack replied; "and you?"
"I am going to station myself at the edge of the plateau that faces east, and if a report comes from that side I shall be in a good place to hear it."
As the wind had changed to the north, although it was very faint, the conditions were favourable. Any reports of heavy runs coming either from the west or the east must be heard easily, provided the distance were not more than three or four miles.
M. Zermatt took up his position by the side of the hangar.
Jack fired three guns from the battery at the intervals arranged. Then he ran at once to his father's side, and both stayed motionless, their ears strained towards the east.
A first report came distinctly to Shark's Island.
"Papa!" cried Jack, "the ship is still there!"
"Listen!" M. Zermatt rejoined.
Six other reports, at regular intervals, followed the first. The ship was not only answering, but seeming to say that things must not remain as they were.
M. Zermatt waved his flag and planted it near the battery.
If the reports of the ship's guns had not reached Rock Castle, at all events the people there would know that there was no danger to be feared.
And half an hour later, when the canoe had reached the creek again, Jack called out:
"Seven guns! They fired seven guns!"
"May heaven be praised sevenfold!" was Frank's reply.
Deeply moved, Jenny seized Fritz's hand. Then she flung herself into the arms of Mme. Zermatt, who wiped away her tears and kissed her.
There was no doubt now about the presence of the ship. For some reason or another it must be lying up in one of the bays along the eastern coast. Possibly it had not been obliged to leave the bay during the storm; now, it would not leave without having got into direct communication with the inhabitants of this unknown land, and perhaps the best course would be to wait until it came in sight of the bay.
"No, let us go, let us go!" Jack insisted. "Let us go at once!"
But the cautious Ernest suggested some considerations of which M. Zermatt expressed approval.
How were they to find out what the ship's nationality was? Was it not possible that she might be manned by pirates who, as every one knows, were very numerous in the waters of the Indian Ocean at this period?
"Well," Fritz declared, "they must be answered as quickly as possible."
"Yes, yes, they must!" Jenny repeated, unable to control her impatience.
"I am going to put off in the canoe," Fritz added, "and since the state of the sea now allows of it, I shall have no difficulty in getting round the eastern cape."
"Very well," M. Zermatt replied, "for we cannot remain in this state of uncertainty. Still, before boarding this vessel it is necessary to know all about it. I will come with you, Fritz." Jack intervened.
"Papa," he said, "I am accustomed to paddling; it will take more than two hours merely to reach the cape, and it may be a long way then to where the ship is anchored. I must go with Fritz."
"That will be much better," Fritz added.
M. Zermatt hesitated. He felt that he ought to take part in an undertaking like this, which called for caution.
"Yes, let Fritz and Jack go," Mme. Zermatt put in. "We can leave it to them."
M. Zermatt yielded, and the most earnest injunctions were given to the two brothers. After rounding the cape they were to follow the shore, glide between the rocks that studded that part of the coast, see before being seen, only ascertain the position of the vessel, on no account go aboard, and come back at once to Rock Castle. M. Zermatt would then decide what course to pursue. If Fritz and Jack could avoid being seen at all it would be better.
Perhaps—too—as Ernest suggested—Fritz and Jack might manage to be taken for savages. Why should they not dress themselves up like savages and then blacken their faces and arms and hands, as Fritz had done once, when he brought Jenny back to Pearl Bay? The ship's crew would be less astonished to meet black men on this land in the Indian Ocean.
Ernest's suggestion was a good one. The two brothers disguised themselves as natives of the Nicobars, and then rubbed soot all over their faces and arms. Then they embarked in the canoe, and half an hour later it was past the mouth of the bay.
Those left behind followed the canoe with their eyes as long as it was visible, and only returned to Rock Castle after they had watched it go out of Deliverance Bay.
Off Shark's Island Fritz manoeuvred so as to get near the opposite shore. If a boat put off from the ship and rounded the extreme point, the canoe would have time to hide behind the reefs and remain on watch.
It took quite two hours to reach the cape, for the distance was more than five miles. With the breeze blowing from the north it would have been useless to set the little sail. It is true, the ebb tide had been favourable to the progress of the cockleshell of a boat.
This cape was about to be rounded for the first time since the Zermatt family had found refuge in Deliverance Bay. What a contrast it offered to False Hope Point, which was outlined ten miles away to the north-west! What an arid front this eastern part of New Switzerland presented! The coast, covered with sand dunes and bristling with black rocks, was set with reefs that stretched out several hundred fathoms beyond the promontory against which the ocean swell, even in fine weather, broke with never flagging violence.
When the canoe had rounded the furthest rocks, the eastern shore revealed itself before the eyes of Fritz and Jack. It ran almost due north to south, forming the boundary of New Switzerland on this side. Unless it was an island, therefore, it must be on the south that this land was joined to a continent.
The canoe skirted the coastline in such a way as to be indistinguishable from the rocks.
A couple of miles beyond, within a narrow bay, a vessel appeared, a three-master, with top-gallant-sails unstepped, undergoing repairs at this anchorage. Upon the neighbouring beach several tents were pitched.
The canoe approached within half a dozen cables' length of the vessel. The moment they were seen neither Fritz nor Jack could fail to apprehend the signs of friendship made to them from on board. They even heard a few sentences spoken in the English language, and it was clear that they were being taken for savages.
On their part they could be in no doubt as to the nationality of this vessel. The British flag was flying from the mizzen. She was an English corvette carrying ten guns.
Thus, there would have been no objection to opening communication with the captain of this corvette.
Jack would have liked to, but Fritz would not permit it. He had promised to return to Rock Castle the moment he had ascertained the position and the nationality of the ship, and he meant to keep his promise. So the canoe resumed her northward course once more, and after a voyage lasting two and a half hours passed through the entrance into Deliverance Bay.
CHAPTER III - THE BRITISH CORVETTE "UNICORN"
THE Unicorn, a small ten gun corvette, flying the British flag, was on her way from Sydney to the Cape of Good Hope. Her commander was Lieutenant Littlestone, and she had a crew of sixty men. Although ordinarily a war-ship carries no passengers the Unicorn had received official permission to take on board an English family, the head of which was compelled by considerations of health to return to Europe. This family consisted of Mr. Wolston, a mechanical engineer, his wife, Merry Wolston, and his two daughters Hannah and Dolly, aged seventeen and fourteen, respectively. Mr. and Mrs. Wolston also had a son, James, who at this time was living in Cape Town with his wife and young son.
The Unicorn had left Sydney harbour in July, 1816, and after skirting the southern coast of Australia had turned her course towards the northeast waters of the Indian Ocean.
Lieutenant Littlestone had been ordered by the Admiralty to cruise about these latitudes and endeavour to find, either upon the western coast of Australia or in the neighbouring islands, traces of the existence of any survivors of the Dorcas, of whom no news had been heard for two and a half years.
It was not known precisely where the wreck had occurred, although there was no doubt about the catastrophe, since the second mate and three men of the crew had been picked up at sea and taken to Sydney, only those four out of all who were in the ship's longboat. As for Captain Greenfield, the sailors and the passengers—the daughter of Colonel Montrose among them—it would have been difficult to cherish any hope of their recovery after the story told of the wreck by the second mate. However, the British Government had desired that further search should be made in this portion of the Indian Ocean as well as in the approaches to the Timor Sea. There are many islands there not much frequented by trading vessels, and it was desirable to pay a visit to those in the neighbourhood of the seas where the Dorcas had probably been lost.
So, after doubling Cape Leeuwin, at the southwest extremity of Australia, the Unicorn had borne northwards. She touched at a few of the Sunday Islands without result, and resumed her journey to the Cape. It was then that she met with a succession of violent storms against which she had to struggle for a whole week, sustaining serious damage, which compelled her to seek some anchorage for repairs.
On the 8th of October the lookout descried to the southward a land—in all probability an island—which was not marked in the latest charts. Lieutenant Littlestone steered for this land and found refuge in the heart of a bay on its eastern coast which was completely sheltered from adverse winds and offered an excellent anchorage.
The crew set to work at once. Tents were pitched on the beach at the foot of the cliff. A regular camp was arranged, and every precaution taken that prudence dictated. It was quite possible that this coast was inhabited or visited by savages, and as everybody knows the natives of the Indian Ocean have an evil reputation.
The Unicorn had been at her moorings for two days when, on the morning of the 10th of October, the attention of the commander and the crew was arrested by a double detonation coming from the west.
This double report was entitled to a reply, and the Unicorn answered with the discharge of three guns from her port side.
Lieutenant Littlestone could do nothing but wait. His ship, being still in dock undergoing repair, could not have got under way and rounded the cape on the north-east. Several days were required before she would be in a condition to put to sea. And in any case,
he assumed that the corvette's guns had been heard, since the wind was blowing off the sea, and he quite expected to see some ship come within sight of the bay at any moment.
So lookout men were posted at the mast-head. Evening came yet no sail had appeared. The sea to the north was absolutely deserted, as was that portion of the coast bounded by the bend of the bay. As for landing a detachment of men and sending it to reconnoitre, Lieutenant Littlestone decided not to do this from prudential considerations. Besides, the circumstances did not appear to demand it imperatively. Directly the Unicorn was in a fit state to leave her moorings she would follow round the coastline of this land, whose precise position had now been definitely fixed as latitude 19°30', longitude 114°5' east of the meridian of Ferro Island which belongs to the Canary Islands group in the Atlantic Ocean.