by Jules Verne
However this may be, in the few hours of leisure left to them occasionally by their work in the fields, Mr. Wolston, M. Zermatt and Ernest, who found this kind of task most interesting, studied the question of irrigation. They ascertained accurately the line and level of the country, and were convinced that its disposition was favourable to the construction of a canal.
Rather more than half-a-mile to the south of Wood Grange lay Swan Lake, filled by the rains during the rainy season, but attaining during the dry season a low water mark which rendered it useless. The trenches that might have been cut would not have enabled the water at summer level to drain away. But if they succeeded in keeping a constant surplusage in the lake, by drawing upon Jackal River, it would be easy to divert it over the surrounding land and bring fresh elements of fertility to it by a carefully considered system of irrigation.
The distance between the waterfall and the southern extremity of the lake was a good two and a half miles, it is true, and to build a conduit of that length could not fail to be a task of much magnitude. It would necessitate the felling of a great many sago trees.
Happily, another examination of the ground, carried out by Ernest and Mr. Wolston, demonstrated the fact that the length of the conduit could be materially reduced.
One evening, when the two families were sitting together in the common hall after a busy day both in and out of doors, Ernest said:
"Papa, Mr. Wolston and I have found out all about the levels. If we raise the water from Jackal River thirty feet, that will be enough to carry it four hundred yards to the place where the ground begins to slope again down to Swan Lake. A trench cut from that point will serve as a canal for the water and will take it direct into the lake."
"Good!" said M. Zermatt. "That will simplify the task enormously."
"And then Swan Lake will form the reservoir for irrigating the fields at Wood Grange, Sugar-cane Grove, and even the hermitage," Mr. Wolston added. "Besides, we will only supply it with enough water for the actual requirements of the irrigation system, and if a surplusage should accumulate we could easily drain it off towards the sea."
"Quite so," said M. Zermatt. "We shall deserve the thanks of all future colonists when once we have completed this canal."
"But not of the old ones, who were satisfied with what nature had given them!" Jack remarked. "Poor old Jackal River! They are going to tire it out turning a wheel; they are going to take a bit of it away; and all for the material advantage of people we do not even know!"
"It is plain that Jack is not an advocate of colonisation," said Mrs. Wolston.
"Our two families settled in this district, and their existence assured—what more could we wish for, Mrs. Wolston?"
"Good!" said Hannah Wolston. "But Jack will change his ideas with all the improvements you are going to introduce."
"Do you think so?" Jack answered with a laugh.
"When shall you begin this great undertaking?" Betsy enquired.
"In a few days, dear," M. Zermatt assured her. "After we have got in our first harvest we shall have three months' leisure before the second."
This being settled, a most laborious task ensued, lasting for five weeks from the 15th of November to the 20th of December.
Expeditions had to be made to Prospect Hill for the purpose of felling several hundred sago trees in the adjacent woods. There was no difficulty in hollowing them out, and their pith was carefully collected in bamboo barrels. It was the hauling of the trees that constituted the really hardest part of the work. This devolved upon M. Zermatt and Jack, assisted by the two buffaloes, the onager, and the young ass, which drew a kind of trolley or truck, like those used later in Europe. It was Ernest who hit upon the idea of suspending these heavy lengths of timber to the axle-tree of the two wheels of the waggon, previously detached from the body for that purpose. If the tree-trunks did scrape along the ground, they only did so at one end, and their hauling was effected under much easier conditions.
All the same, buffaloes, onager and ass had plenty to do, so much, indeed, that one day Jack said:
"It is a pity, papa, that we have not got a pair oi elephants in our service! What a lot of fatigue out poor beasts would be saved!"
"But not the worthy pachyderms themselves," M, Zermatt replied— "converted into our poor beasts in their turn."
"Oh, elephants have plenty of strength," Jack retorted; "they would drag these sago-tree trunks along like so many matches! There are some in New Switzerland, and if we could only—"
"I am not very keen on these creatures getting into the Promised Land, Jack. They would soon get our fields into a pretty mess!"
"No doubt, papa. But if we should have an opportunity of meeting them in the savannahs of Pearl Bay, or in those plains where the Green Valley opens out—"
"We would take advantage of it," M. Zermatt answered. "But don't let us create the opportunity. It is better not to."
While M. Zermatt and his son were proceeding with these many hauling journeys, Mr. Wolston and Ernest were busy making and fixing the pumping machine. In the construction of the water-wheel the engineer displayed great skill, and particularly interested Ernest, who had a great bent for everything connected with mechanics.
This wheel was set up at the foot of the waterfall in Jackal River, in such a way as to work the Landlord's pumps. The water, brought up to a height of thirty feet, would be stored in a reservoir hollowed out between the rocks on the right bank, and this would be fitted with the water-pipes made from the sago-tree trunks, the first of which were soon laid along the river bank.
The work was carried on so steadily and methodically that about the 20th of December it was finished, including the trench or drain cut through the surface, of the ground to the southern end of Swan Lake.
"Shall we have an opening ceremony?" Hannah Wolston asked that evening.
"I rather think so!" Jack replied. "Just as if it were a matter of opening a canal in our own old Switzerland! What do you say, Mamma?"
"Just as you like, dears," Betsy answered.
"Then that is settled," said M. Zermatt. "The ceremony shall begin to-morrow with the starting of our machinery."
"How shall it end?" Ernest asked.
"With an excellent dinner in honour of Mr. Wolston."
"And of your son Ernest," said Mr. Wolston, "for he deserves great praise for his keenness and intelligence."
"I am delighted with your praise, sir," the young fellow replied, "but I had a good teacher."
The next day, about ten o'clock, the canal was formally opened in the presence of the two families who had assembled near the waterfall. The wheel, set in motion by the fall, revolved regularly, the two pumps worked and the water was let into the reservoir, which was filled in an hour and a half. Then the sluices were opened and the water travelled through the conduit, a distance of four hundred yards.
Everybody hastened to this spot, and there was much clapping of hands when the first trickles of water entered the portion of the canal which was open to the sky. After Ernest had thrown in a little buoy, the members of both families got into the waggon, which was waiting, and drove off towards Swan Lake, Jack speeding in front mounted on his ostrich.
The waggon made such good speed that, although it had a detour to make, it reached the far end of the canal at the same moment that the buoy floated out onto the surface of the lake.
Loud cheers greeted it; the work had been brought to a satisfactory conclusion. It would only be necessary to make a few breaches in the banks for the water, even in the height of the drought, to irrigate generously all the surrounding country during the hot weather.
Three months had now passed since the Unicorn had sailed. If nothing occurred to delay her she ought to be seen again off Deliverance Bay in three times that time.
Not a day passed without some talk about the absent ones. They were followed at every stage of their voyage. Now they had reached the Cape of Good Hope, where James Wolston was waiting for his sister Dolly. No
w the corvette was working up the Atlantic, along the African coast. Now she was arriving at Portsmouth; Jenny and Fritz and Frank were landing and reaching London. There Colonel Montrose was clasping in his arms the daughter whom he had never thought to see again, and, with her, him who had rescued her from the Burning Rock, whose union with her he would sanction with his blessing.
Thus ended the year 1816, which had been marked by events whose consequences must profoundly alter the situation of New Switzerland.
CHAPTER VII - THE START OF AN EXPEDITION
ON the 1st of January good wishes were ex. changed between the Zermatts and the Wolstons. They also gave one another presents, valuable chiefly for the goodwill of the givers—such trifles as time transforms into souvenirs. There were mutual congratulations, too, and much handshaking when the day dawned, a day observed as a holiday all over the world, when the new year
Makes its bow upon the stage
Of the unknown future age,
as a French poet has said. This New Year's day was very different from the twelve that had preceded it since the survivors of the wreck of the Landlord had first set foot on the beach at Tent Home. Heartfelt joy now entered into their emotions. It was a chorus of pure happiness and merriment they raised, and Jack took part in it with the lively enthusiasm which he put into everything.
M. Zermatt and Mr. Wolston embraced each other. They were old friends now, and had had time to learn to appreciate and esteem one another in the common life they led together. M. Zermatt treated Hannah as if he were her father, and Mr. Wolston, Ernest and Jack as if they were his sons. It was the same with the two mothers who made no difference between their respective children.
Hannah Wolston must have been particularly touched by the congratulations which Ernest offered to her. It will be remembered that this young man was somewhat addicted to poetry. Once before, when the worthy donkey had had its fatal encounter with the enormous boa-constrictor, he had adorned its tomb with a few quite respectable lines. On the present occasion, in honour of this maiden, his inspiration stood him in good stead, and Hannah's cheeks flushed warmly when the young poet congratulated her on having recovered her health in the good air of the Promised Land.
"Health—and happiness, too," she answered, kissing Mme. Zermatt.
The day, which was Friday, was observed like a Sunday in that thanks were offered to the Most High, whose protection of the absent ones was invoked, while heartfelt gratitude was expressed for all His blessings.
Then Jack exclaimed:
"And what about our animals?"
"Well; what about our animals?" M. Zermatt enquired.
"Turk, and Brownie and Fawn; our buffaloes, Storm and Grumbler; our bull, Roarer; our cow, Paleface; our onager, Lightfoot; our asses, Arrow and Fleet and Swift; our jackal, Coco; our ostrich, Whirlwind; our monkey, Nip the Second; and indeed all our friends two and four footed."
"Come, come, Jack," said Mme. Zermatt, "you are not suggesting that your brother should write poetry for the whole farm and poultry yard, are you?"
"Of course not, Mamma, and I don't suppose the excellent creatures would appreciate the most beautiful verses in the world. But they do deserve that we should wish them a happy new year and give them double rations and fresh litter."
"Jack is quite right," said Mr. Wolston; "to-day all our beasts—"
"Including Jenny's jackal and cormorant," said Hannah Wolston.
"Well said, my dear," said Mrs. Wolston. "Jenny's pets shall have their share."
"And since to-day is the first day of the year the whole world over," said Mme. Zermatt, "let us think of those who have left us, who are certainly thinking of us."
And affectionate thoughts were wafted by both families to the beloved passengers on the Unicorn.
All the animals were treated according to their high deserts, and sugar was lavished upon them as well as caresses.
Then the whole party sat down in the dining-room at Rock Castle to an appetising luncheon, the gaiety of which was increased by a few glasses of old wine presented by the commander of the corvette.
There was no question of doing any of the usual daily work on a holiday like this, so M. Zermatt proposed a walk to Falconhurst, a short two and a half miles that could be travelled without much fatigue beneath the shade of the fair avenue which connected the summer and winter residences.
The weather was splendid, although the heat was great. But the double row of trees along the avenue barred the sun's rays with their dense foliage. It was just a pleasant trip along the shore, with the sea upon the right hand and the country on the left.
A start was made about eleven o'clock so as to allow of a whole afternoon's rest at Falconhurst and a return in time for dinner. The two families had not stayed at Wood Grange this year, nor yet at Prospect Hill or the hermitage at Eberfurt, because these farmsteads required enlargements which would not be undertaken until the Unicorn came back. The arrival of new colonists would probably necessitate other changes in the Promised Land.
After leaving the kitchen garden and crossing Jackal River by Family Bridge, the party went along the avenue of fruit trees, which had grown with tropical luxuriance.
There was no need to hurry, as an hour would take them to Falconhurst. The dogs, Brownie and Fawn, gambolled in front. On either hand fields of maize, millet, oats, wheat, barley, cassava, and sweet potatoes displayed their rich stores. The second harvest promised to be a good one, without taking into account that which would be reaped on the land farther to the north, irrigated from Swan Lake.
"It was a fine idea to utilise that water from Jackal River, which until then was wasted, since the sea had no need of it!" Jack remarked thoughtfully to Mr. Wolston.
Every few hundred yards a halt was made, and the talk was resumed with new enjoyment. Hannah gathered some of the pretty flowers whose perfume scented the whole avenue. Hundreds of birds fluttered among the branches laden with fruit and leaves. Game of all kinds sped across the meadow lands, hares, rabbits, grouse, hazel hens, snipe. Neither Ernest nor Jack had been allowed to bring a gun, and it seemed as if the winged tribe knew this.
Before they had started Mme. Zermatt, seconded by Hannah, had urged the point.
"I beg," she said, "I beg that to-day all these unoffending creatures may be spared."
Ernest had agreed with good grace. He had no burning desire to shine as a hunter. But Jack had protested. To go out without his gun, if he were to br believed, was like being deprived of an arm or a leg.
"I can take it, even if I don't use it," he said. "I promise not to fire, not even if a covey of partridges gets up within half a dozen yards."
"You would not be able to keep your promise, Jack," Hannah replied. "With Ernest there would be no need for anxiety, but you—"
"And suppose some wild beast appeared, a panther, a bear, a tiger, a lion? There are some on our island."
"Not in the Promised Land," Mme. Zermatt answered. "Come, Jack, give in to us this time.
You will still have three hundred and sixty-four days in the year."
"Isn't it Leap Year by any chance?"
"No," Ernest replied.
"No luck!" the young sportsman exclaimed.
It was about an hour later when the two families stopped at the foot of Falconhurst, after crossing the mangrove wood.
M. Zermatt's first care was to ascertain that the fence which enclosed the poultry yard was in sound condition. Neither the monkeys nor the wild boars had indulged their instinct to destroy. There really would have been no need for Jack to make reprisals on these marauders on this occasion.
The party began by taking a rest on the semi-circular terrace of clay made above the roots of the huge mangrove and rendered waterproof by a mixture of resin and tar. They all took a little refreshment there from the barrels of mead which were stored under the terrace. Then they went up the winding staircase, built inside the tree, to the platform forty feet above the ground.
It was an unfailing pleasure
to the Zermatts to be among the broad leaves of the tree. Was not this their first nest, the one which held so many memories for them? The nest had become a fresh and delightful habitation, with its two trellised balconies, its double floor, its rooms roofed in with nicely fitted bark, and its light furniture. Henceforward it would be no more than a mere resting place. More spacious buildings were to be erected at Prospect Hill. But M.
Zermatt meant to preserve the old "falcon's nest" as long as the gigantic tree would hold it in its arms, until, worn out by years, it fell to pieces from old age.
That afternoon, while they chatted on the balcony Mrs. Wolston made a remark which called for consideration. She was a woman of such enlightened piety, and so steeped in religious feeling, that no one was surprised when she spoke in this way.