by Jules Verne
So M. Zermatt was obliged to restrain the impatience of Mr. Wolston and Jack.
"Not to-day," he said. "It is getting too late. Let us wait until to-morrow. Instead of crossing this district on foot, we will go by sea. The valley we can see almost certainly ends in some section of the seashore, in some creek where a river runs out. If the pinnace finds a good anchorage there we will devote one or two days to a really serious exploration of the interior."
It was the wisest course, and no one could raise an objection to it.
After a parting glance all round, M. Zermatt, with Mr. Wolston and Jack, went down and explained to the others what had been decided. The exploration, postponed until the morrow, would be carried out under conditions which would enable the whole party to take part in it without danger or fatigue.
It now only remained to descend the path through the gap in the cliff, and it took but a few minutes to reach the foot.
Though there was an entire absence of game on the shores of Unicorn Bay, as Jack complained, there were swarms of fish in its waters and of crustaceans among its rocks, with which Ernest expressed himself as being entirely satisfied. With the help of Hannah he set some nets and got some good fishing, with the result that for dinner there was a supplementary dish of large crabs with most excellent flesh and of small fried soles of good quality.
After dinner they took a final stroll as far as the end of the beach and about nine o'clock all the party went on board the Elizabeth again.
CHAPTER IX - MONTROSE RIVER
NEXT morning M. Zermatt's first thought was to scan the eastern horizon. Behind a light veil of mist, soon to be dispersed, the solar disk was looming, enlarged by the refraction. A magnificent day was heralded. There was nothing to indicate any atmospheric disturbance. For three or four days the barometer had been set fair. The atmosphere was rendered a little opaque by the dust, unweighted by humidity, which it held in suspension. Further, the breeze, which was rather fresh, seemed to be settled in the north-west. The sea would be calm for quite a couple of miles out. So the pinnace would be able to continue her voyage along the line of coast in perfect safety.
At six o'clock everybody was on deck and the hawsers were cast off. With her foresail, mainsail, and jibs all hauled aboard and gathered, the little vessel cleared the point and took the open sea, where the wind was more appreciably felt. Half an hour later, with her course set southwards and Mr. Wolston at the helm, the Elizabeth was following the meander-ings of the coast at a distance of ten cable-lengths, so that the eye could see its least details from the indentations of the beach to the top of the rocky cliffs.
As far as could be calculated, it must be from ten to twelve miles from Unicorn Bay to the valley which had been observed to the southward. Two or three hours would suffice to accomplish that distance. The tide, which had been on the flood since sunrise, was setting in that direction and would probably be slack by the time the Elizabeth reached her destination.
On both sides of the Elizabeth swift companies of magnificent sturgeons were darting and playing in the water, some of them measuring seven to eight feet in length. Jack and Ernest were wild to harpoon them, but M. Zermatt would not allow them to do so. No good purpose would have been served by delaying the voyage for this sport. Mackerel and weevers, which could be taken while sailing, were another matter. So some lines were trailed from the stern and brought up several dozen of those excellent fish, which, boiled in salt water, would make their appearance at luncheon at the first stop.
There was no change in the appearance of the coast. It still presented an unbroken front of limestone or granite, a lofty wall rising from the sand, pierced with caverns in which the roaring of the sea must have been appalling when the waves rushed into them, driven before the gales blowing from the open sea. The impression made upon the mind by this coast was one of profound gloom.
Yet, as the ship got further south a certain animation became noticeable, due to the incessant flight of frigate birds, booby birds, sea-gulls, and albatrosses, whose cries were deafening. Sometimes they came within gunshot. Jack was itching to shoot, and he might not have been able to resist his temptation if Hannah had not interceded for the inoffensive creatures.
"Perhaps Jenny's albatross is among all these others," she suggested. "What a pity it would be, Jack, if you were to kill that poor creature!"
"Hannah is right," said Ernest.
"As usual," Jack answered, "and I promise not to shoot another albatross until we have found the one that brought the message from Burning Rock."
"Would you like me to tell you what I think?" Hannah went on.
"Of course!" Jack replied.
"Well, that we shall see that albatross again some day."
"Naturally, since I shan't have killed it."
About nine o'clock the pinnace was almost abreast of the depression formed by an abrupt bend of the cliff towards the interior. The ridge of the coast was becoming lower. Broad mounds, less rugged of aspect, connected it now with the sandy beach, which was broken by large protuberances of a blackish hue. There were many reefs, covered at high tide, in some cases running out several cable-lengths from the shore. The Elizabeth approached them cautiously. Mr. Wolston leaned over the bow and observed the water attentively, noting every suspicious agitation and every change of colour which might indicate the proximity of a reef.
Suddenly Jack cried:
"Ah, at any rate no one can say that this coast is deserted! There are people over there, and fine people, tool"
All eyes turned towards the beach and the rocks where Jack's keen eyes detected numbers of living creatures.
"What do you mean, my boy?" his mother asked. "You see men there—savages perhaps?"
It was of savages, the fierce Indo-Malay savages, that Mme. Zermatt was always and quite reasonably, most afraid.
"Come, Jack, answer!" said his father.
"Don't be uneasy! Don't be uneasy!" Jack replied. "I did not say anything about human beings. These have got two legs, but they have feathers too."
"Then they are penguins?" Ernest enquired.
"Or auks."
"It is easy to confuse them, Jack," said Ernest, "for those birds are closely allied in the order of palmipedes."
"Let us say in the goose family, to save any dispute," M. Zermatt answered; "and goose is the best name for these stupid birds."
"Perhaps that is why they are sometimes mistaken for men," Jack suggested slyly.
"Wag!" Hannah exclaimed.
"Only from a distance," M. Zermatt added. "And really, just look at their necks with a ring of white feathers, their small wings hanging down like two little arms, their upright heads, their black feet, and the regular lines in which they are drawn up! They look like a regiment of soldiers in uniform. Do you remember, boys, what a number of penguins there used to be on the rocks at the mouth of Jackal River?"
"Rather!" said Ernest; "I can still see Jack rushing into the midst of the foe, with water up to his waist, and hitting out so stoutly that he knocked over half-a-dozen of the penguins with his stick!"
"Exactly," Jack acknowledged. "And as I was only ten years old at the time didn't I show promise?"
"You have fulfilled the promise, too," added M. Zermatt with a smile. "The poor creatures that we ill treated thus evidently made haste to abandon the beach at Deliverance Bay, and came to take refuge on this coast."
Whether this was so or not, it was the fact that the auks or penguins had absolutely deserted the shores of the bay within the first few months after the settlement at Rock Castle.
Continuing on her way along the line of coast, the Elizabeth passed by wide stretches where at low water vast sheets of salt deposit must be left high and dry. There must have been enough to employ a hundred hands salt-raking, and the future colony would be able to collect there all the salt it could possibly require.
From the foot of the cliff, which ended here in a sharp angle, a promontory ran out beneath the water. The pinnace was obliged to sheer off mor
e than a mile to sea. When she again put in towards the coast, it was to make for the creek where the valley debouched which had been seen from the heights above Unicorn Bay.
"A river! There is a river!" cried Jack, perched at the top of the foremast.
M. Zermatt was examining the shore through a telescope, and this is what he saw:
On the right hand, the cliff bent sharply and went back along the slope of the interior. On the left hand, the coast line ended in a cape at least ten or fifteen miles away. The whole campaign was verdant with grass lands and woods, rising tier on tier to the limits of the horizon. Between these two points curved the creek, forming a natural harbour, screened by curtains of rock from the adverse easterly winds, and apparently having easily navigable passages.
Across this creek was a calm and limpid river shaded by fine trees. It appeared to be navigable, and as far as could be judged from this distance, its course bent towards the south-west.
This was manifestly the spot for the pinnace to put in at, as there was an excellent anchorage. So her head was turned towards the passage which gave entrance to it, and, with all sail taken in except the mainsail and jib, she beat up against the wind, on the starboard tack. The floodtide, which had still an hour to run, helped her. The sea was absolutely calm. At lowest ebb perhaps a reef might show here and there amid the splashing surf.
No precaution that prudence dictated was neglected. M. Zermatt at the tiller, Mr. Wolston and Ernest posted at the bow, and Jack astride the cross bars, all kept their eyes on the passage up the middle of which the Elizabeth was moving. Mme. Zermatt, with Mrs. Wolston and her daughter, sat upon the poop. All maintained silence, under the two-fold influence of curiosity and of vague anxiety in approaching this new country in which human beings were about to set foot probably for the first time. The silence was only broken by the murmur of the water along the hull, mingled with the flapping of the sails which were spilling the wind, the directions called out by Jack and the cries of gulls and sea-mews flying wildly towards the rocks surrounding the creek.
It was eleven o'clock when the anchor was dropped beside a kind of natural quay on the left of the river mouth, where an easy landing was available. A little behind, some tall palm trees offered a sufficient protection from the rays of the sun which had now almost reached the meridian. After luncheon an organised exploration of the interior could be arranged.
The mouth of this river appeared to be as deserted as the mouth of Jackal River had been when the shipwrecked people first came ashore there. It did not look as if human foot had ever been set there before. The only difference was that instead of a narrow, winding, and unnavigable stream, a watercourse was here displayed which must certainly run far back into the middle portion of the island.
Jack jumped ashore the moment the Elizabeth had anchored, and, hauling on to a hawser made fast to her stern, drew her alongside of the rocks. This rendered it unnecessary to use the canoe to land by, and in a few minutes all were upon the beach. After carrying the provisions up to the shade of the clump of trees, the first business was the satisfaction of an alarming appetite, sharpened by a voyage of several hours in the keen air.
But eating did not wholly interfere with the interchange of question and answer.
"Is it perhaps not a pity that we did not rather anchor on the left bank of the river?" said Mr. Wolston. "The bank is low on this side, whereas on the other the buttress of the cliff towers a hundred feet above it."
"And I should not have had any difficulty in climbing to the top," Jack declared. "From there at least we should have been able to get a first view of the country."
"There is nothing easier than to cross the creek in the canoe," M. Zermatt answered. "But why should we be sorry? On the other bank I can only see stones and sand as far as the desert which reaches from Cape East to this bay. On this side, on the contrary, we have vegetation, trees and shade, and, beyond, opens out the country which we saw from the sea, and which it will be easy to explore. In my opinion we could not have chosen better."
"And we do approve of the choice, don't we, Mr. Wolston?" said Betsy.
"Quite, Mme. Zermatt; and we go over to the other bank whenever we like."
"I should like to add," said Mrs. Wolston, "that we are so very comfortable where we are—"
"That you would like to stay here!" Jack finished gaily. "Come, that's settled! Let us abandon Rock Castle, Falconhurst, the Promised Land, and let us come and found the ultimate capital of New Switzerland here at the mouth of this magnificent river."
"Jack is off again!" Ernest answered. "But in spite of his joking, it is clear that the size of this river and the depth of the creek into which it runs do offer greater advantages for the establishment of a colony than the mouth of Jackal River does. But we must explore this region thoroughly, study its resources, and ascertain whether or not it is frequented by any dangerous animals."
"That is talking like a wise man," said Hannah Wolston.
"As Ernest always talks," his brother retorted.
"In any case," M. Zermatt added, "splendid and rich as this country may be, we could not abandon the Promised Land."
"Certainly not," said Mme. Zermatt emphatically. "It would break my heart to leave it altogether."
"I quite understand you, Betsy dear," Mrs. Wolston replied, "and I would never consent to separate from you in order to live here."
"Well," said Mr. Wolston, "there is no question of doing that, but only of walking about the immediate neighbourhood after lunch."
The question being stated in terms like that, all were unanimous in hailing Mr. Wolston's proposal. Yet his wife and daughter and Mme. Zermatt would have excused themselves from taking part in an expedition which could not fail to be a tiring one, if after some reflection M. Zermatt had not said:
"I should not like to think of you alone in this place, even for only a few hours, and you know, Betsy, that I have never left you at Rock Castle without putting you in charge of one of the boys. In the event of danger during our absence, what would become of you? I should not be easy for a minute. But we can arrange everything; since the river is navigable, why should we not all go up it together?"
"In the canoe?" Ernest asked.
"No; in the pinnace, which, moreover, I would prefer not to leave anchored here while we are away."
"Agreed," Betsy replied; "we are all three ready to go with you."
"Will the Elizabeth be able to make way against the stream?" Mr. Wolston enquired.
"We shall have the current with us," M. Zermatt answered, "if we wait for the flood tide. The tide will turn soon, and in six hours we shall be able to take advantage of it."
"Will it not be too late to make a start then?" Mrs. Wolston suggested.
"Well, yes, it would be too late," M. Zermatt replied. "So it seems to me it would be wiser to finish the day here, spend the night on board, and get under way with the flood tide at daybreak."
"And until then?" Jack enquired.
"Until then," M. Zermatt answered, "we shall have time to inspect the creek and the immediate neighbourhood. But, as the heat is very great, I advise the ladies to await our return at the camp."
"Willingly," said Mrs. Wolston, "provided you do not go very far away."
"It is merely a matter of a walk along the right bank of the river, from which we will not wander," M. Zermatt promised.
This plan permitted of an investigation of the lower valley being made before penetrating into the hinterland.
M. Zermatt and Mr. Wolston, with Ernest and Jack, climbed up onto the bank again, and reached some slightly swelling ground which connected the watercourse with the country on the western side.
This territory presented a very fertile appearance— woods, here and there, in dense masses; plains carpeted with thick grass, where thousands of ruminants might have found sustenance; a veritable network of little streams all running towards the main river; and lastly, like a barrier on the southwestern horizon, the mountain range whic
h had already been remarked in that direction.
"Talking of that," said M. Zermatt, "I must admit that the range is not so far away as we supposed when we saw it for the first time from the heights above the Green Valley. Probably it was a haze that gave it its bluish tint, and I estimated the distance at more than thirty miles. It was an optical illusion. Ernest understands that, I expect."
"Quite, Papa; that day the distance looked twice what it really is. If we estimate the distance of that range from the Green Valley at eighteen or twenty miles we shall be pretty near the truth, I believe."
"I think so, too," said Mr. Wolston. "But is it actually the same range?"
"Oh, yes, it is the same," Ernest answered; "I do not think New Switzerland is large enough to contain another of that size."
"Why not?" Jack asked. "Why should not our island be as large as Sicily, or Madagascar, or New Zealand, or Australia?"