Their Island Home

by Jules Verne

  The dwelling-house did not appear to have suffered at all from the bad weather. This, however, was not the mere shanty of the early days, made of flexible reeds and slender, pliable poles. It was a brick cottage now, coated outside with sand and clay, and inside with plaster, so that it was impervious to damp. The cotton plantations contiguous to Wood Grange appeared to be in excellent condition. So, too, did the marsh, now a regular rice-field, the soil of which had not been undermined by the rains. On the other side, Swan Lake was full almost to the top of its banks, even at its lowest, but there was nothing about it to suggest an inundation of the adjacent fields. The little lake was alive with countless flocks of aquatic birds, herons, pelicans, snipe, moorhens, and, most graceful of all, coal-black swans sailing in pairs upon its surface.

  Jack brought down several dozen ducks, and a magnificent water-cavy, which he got in the underwood, and which the waggon would take back to Rock Castle.

  The monkeys had ceased to trouble. Not a single one was to be seen. Since the massacre of so many of them they had wisely decided to decamp.

  Having attended to the animals, they applied themselves to sowing the Wood Grange fields. The soil was so fertile that it required no ploughing or manuring. All that was necessary to freshen it in preparation for another crop was to harrow it with the harrow which the asses drew. But the sowing required a good deal of time and the co-operation of all hands, even Hannah's, and it was not possible to return to Rock Castle before the 6th of September.

  Those who thus came back could not but compliment Mrs. Wolston and Mme. Zermatt on the zeal and energy they had displayed during their absence. The poultry-yard and the cattle-sheds were in perfect condition; the kitchen garden had been cleaned and weeded, and the vegetable plants pricked out in masterly style. The two good housewives had also gone in for a complete spring cleaning.

  It was then decided that a final excursion should be made in the next few days to the other settlements in the district. The farms at Sugar-cane Grove and at Prospect Hill could be visited in the one trip. But to reach False Hope Point would certainly take a week, and they could not count upon being back before the middle of September.

  "As for the hermitage at Eberfurt," M. Zermatt remarked, "we shall have an opportunity to visit that when we make our expedition into the interior of the island, for there is no other way out of the Promised Land except the defile of Cluse, and that is near our farm."

  "Quite so," Mr. Wolston replied; "but isn't there any work to be done on the land over there which would suffer by the delay?"

  "My dear Wolston," M. Zermatt answered, "all we have to do is wait until we are wanted for the haymaking and the harvesting, and that will not be for several weeks. So let us finish up with Sugar-cane Grove and Prospect Hill."

  This agreed to, it was decided that Hannah should not go with her father this time, since the journey might take longer than a week, and Mrs. Wolston might miss her.

  Ernest was disappointed, and asked whether his presence, too, at Rock Island was not also indispensable.

  It was Jack who came to his aid. The day before the start, when everybody was assembled in the general hall, he made the following bold suggestion:

  "Papa, I know quite well that Mrs. Wolston and Hannah and Mamma do not really run any risk by being left alone at Rock Castle—but when it is a question of leaving them for a whole week—who can say—well, perhaps—"

  "Very true, Jack," M. Zermatt replied; "I shall not have an easy minute the whole time we are away, although there is no reason to anticipate any danger. Up to now we have never been separated for more than two or three days, and this time it will be for a whole week. It is a long time. Yet, it would be very inconvenient for us all to go together."

  "If you like," said Mr. Wolston, "I will stay at Rock Castle."

  "No, my dear Wolston, anyone rather than you," M. Zermatt replied. "You must go with us to Sugar-cane Grove and Prospect Hill, because of all that is to be done there in the future. But if one of the boys is willing to stay with his mother I shall have no more anxiety. That has been done several times before. Now Jack—"

  Jack, who could hardly keep back a smile, looked slyly at Ernest.

  "What!" he exclaimed. "Is it me you ask to stay at home? Would you deprive a hunter of such an opportunity of hunting big game? If anyone has to stay at Rock Castle, why should it be I rather than Ernest?"

  "Ernest or Jack, it is all the same," M. Zermatt answered. "Is it not so, Mrs. Wolston?" "Certainly, M. Zermatt."

  "And with Ernest to keep you company, you would not be afraid, nor you, Betsy, nor you, Hannah, dear?"

  "Not a bit afraid," replied the girl, blushing a little.

  "Speak up then, Ernest," Jack said. "You don't say if that plan suits you?"

  The plan did suit Ernest, and M. Zermatt could feel every confidence in that serious young man, who was as careful as he was brave.

  The start had been arranged for the following day. At dawn, M. Zermatt, Mr. Wolston, and Jack said good-bye, promising to make their absence as brief as possible.

  The shortest road between Rock Castle and Sugarcane Grove bore away on the left to the Wood Grange Road, which ran along the coast.

  The waggon, in which M. Zermatt and Mr. Wolston drove, was loaded with bags of seed, utensils and tools, and an adequate supply of provisions and ammunition.

  Jack, who had declined to be parted from Light-foot, rode near the waggon, followed by his two dogs, Brownie and Fawn.

  They started in a north-westerly direction, leaving Swan Lake upon the right. Wide prairies, natural pasture grounds, extended as far as the canal cut from Jackal River, which was crossed, about two and a half miles from Falconhurst, by the original culvert.

  There was no cart track in this direction like that which led to the Wood Grange farm; but frequent hauling of heavy timber had levelled the ground and destroyed the grass. So the waggon, drawn by the two sturdy buffaloes, made good speed without any very great trouble.

  The seven or eight miles to Sugar-cane Grove were covered in four hours.

  M. Zermatt, Mr. Wolston, and Jack reached the house in time for luncheon. Having eaten with excellent appetites, they set to work at once.

  They had first to repair the fences that formed the enclosure in which the pigs had spent the rainy season. This had been invaded by some other members of the pig family, the tajacus, or musky peccaries, which had previously been seen at Sugar-cane Grove, and which lived on perfectly friendly terms with the domestic pigs. The tajacus were never driven away, for M. Zermatt knew that the flesh of these creatures could be turned to good account, provided the musky gland in the middle of the back was first removed.

  All the plantations on this estate were found to be in first-class order, thanks to its distance from the sea.

  When M. Zermatt and his sons first visited this place it was nothing but a marsh, which they then called Sugar-cane Marsh. That was in the early days.

  after their landing on the island. Now vast fields of arable land surrounded the Sugar-cane Grove, succeeded by pastures where cows grazed. Where the simple hut made of branches once stood there was now a house sheltered by trees. At a little distance away there was a thick copse, composed entirely of bamboos, whose strong thorns could be employed as nails, and would have torn to shreds the clothes of anyone who made his way through them.

  The stay at Sugar-cane Grove lasted a week, which was entirely occupied in sowing millet, wheat, oats and maize. Cereals throve quickly in this soil, which was irrigated from Swan Lake. Mr. Wolston had cut a trench from the western bank of the lake to this spot, and the water spread over the surface of this district by the natural process of finding its own level. As a result of this device, Sugar-cane Grove might be regarded as the richest of the three farms established in the Promised Land.

  During this week Jack had plenty of sport. The moment he could be spared, he went off with his dogs. The larder was plentifully stocked with quails, grouse, partridges, and bustard
s, with peccaries and agoutis. Hyenas had previously been observed in the neighbourhood, but Jack met none, nor yet any other carnivorous animal. It was clear that the wild animals fled before man.

  While walking by the side of the lake, Jack, more fortunate than his brother Fritz had been a few years before, got the chance to bowl over an animal the size of a large donkey, with a dark brown coat, a kind of hornless rhinoceros, of the tapir species. It was an anta, and it did not fall to the first shot which the young hunter fired at twenty paces; but just as it was charging at Jack, a second bullet pierced its heart.

  At last, in the evening of the 15th of September, all this work was finished. The next day, after the house had been fast closed and the enclosure shut up with a solid railing, the waggon set off towards the north on its way to Prospect Hill, in the neighbourhood of False Hope Point.

  The farm was about five miles from that point, which stretches out like a vulture's beak between Nautilus Bay and the open sea. The greater part of the journey lay on a flat plain, where the going was easy. But the plain sloped appreciably as it approached the cliff.

  Two hours after the start, beyond a green and rich stretch of country wonderfully refreshed by the rainy season, M. Zermatt, Mr. Wolston, and Jack came to the Monkeys' Wood, which had ceased to deserve that name since those mischievous creatures had disappeared. At the foot of the hill they called a halt.

  The sides of Prospect Hill were not really so steep that the buffaloes and the onager could not climb them, by following a zigzag path which wound round them. There was one really strenuous effort to be made, and the waggon was at the top.

  The house, being greatly exposed to the easterly and northerly winds which beat full upon the cape, had suffered a good deal from the recent storms. Its roof required some immediate repairs, for the gales had dismantled it in more than one place. But now, in good summer weather, it was quite habitable, and the party were able to install themselves there for a few days.

  In the poultry-yard, too, where the cocks and hens were clucking and running about, there was damage due to the bad weather to be attended to; and the mouth of the little stream of fresh water which rose near the top of the hill had to be cleared and opened.

  In the plantations, and more especially the plantations of caper bushes and tea plants, the chief work was that of straightening the plants that had been beaten down by the force of the winds but were still rooted in the ground.

  During their stay here the visitors took several walks to the end of False Hope Point. From this spot one could see over a vast extent of sea towards the east, and over part of Nautilus Bay to the west. How often in all these years had the shipwrecked people watched in vain for the sight of a ship beyond this cape!

  When M. Zermatt and his two companions went there now, Jack was moved to say:

  "It was twelve years ago, when we had given up all hope of ever finding any of our companions on the Landlord, that we gave this cape its fitting name of False Hope Point. If the Unicorn should come into sight over there to-day, would it not be fitting to change the name to Cape Welcome?"

  "Very fitting, my dear boy," Mr. Wolston answered, "but it is not at all likely to happen. The Unicorn is still in mid-Atlantic, and it must be nearly two months before she can reach these waters of New Switzerland."

  "One can never tell, Mr. Wolston," Jack replied. "But, failing the Unicorn, why should not some other ship come first to investigate, and then to take possession of the island? Of course, her captain would have good reason to call it False Hope Island, since it has been taken possession of already!"

  But no ship did appear, and it was unnecessary to alter the name originally given to the cape.

  On the 21st of September all the work at the villa at Prospect Hill was finished, and M. Zermatt decided to start for home next day at early dawn.

  As they sat together that evening in the little balcony in front of the house, they witnessed a magnificent sunset below a clear horizon undimmed by the lightest haze. Ten miles away, Cape East rose from a foundation of shadow, broken sometimes by points of light as the surf broke against the rocks at its foot. The sea was absolutely calm, and spread in a curve as far as Deliverance Bay. Below the hill the grass lands, shaded by clumps of trees, blent their verdant carpet with the yellow tinted sands. Behind, twenty miles away to the south, the mountain range, to which Mr. Wolston's eyes often strayed, was shaded off, its edges scalloped with a line of gold by the last rays of the sun.

  Next day the waggon went down the steep slopes of Prospect Hill and took the road once more, and in the afternoon it arrived at the gates of Rock Castle. The travellers were received with delight, although their expedition had not involved an absence of more than a couple of weeks.

  That evening, when the two families were all together again in the large hall and M. Zermatt had finished his story of the expedition to the farms, Ernest laid upon the table a sheet of paper on which was a coloured drawing.

  "Hullo, what is that?" Jack asked. "The plan of the future capital of New Switzerland?"

  "Not yet," Ernest answered.

  "Then I can't guess—"

  "Why, it is the design for the inside decoration of our little chapel," said Hannah.

  "That's it, Jack," said Ernest, "and I had to get on with it, for the walls are half built already."

  The announcement caused great pleasure, and Ernest was warmly praised for his work, which was voted perfect both in its style and its arrangement.

  "Will there be a steeple?" Jack demanded.

  "Certainly," Hannah answered.

  "And a bell?"

  "Yes—the Landlord's bell."

  "And Hannah is to have the honour of ringing it first," Ernest announced.

  It was the 24th of September, the date when Mr. Wolston's plan was to be carried into effect.

  What would be the results of this exploration of the interior of New Switzerland?

  For twelve years the shipwrecked people had been satisfied with the district of the Promised Land. It had sufficed to assure them of a livelihood, and even of prosperity. So, quite apart from the anxiety she must naturally feel when any of her dear ones were absent, Mme. Zermatt, though she did not seek to explain it even to herself, had her doubts about this expedition.

  That evening, when M. Zermatt joined her in their room, she opened her heart to her husband, who answered her thus:

  "If we were still in the same condition that we have been since we came here I would grant you, my dear, that this journey of discovery was not necessary. E /en if Mr. Wolston and his family had been cast by shipwreck on this island of ours, I should say to them: 'What has been enough for us ought to be enough for you, and there is no need to rush into adventure when the advantage is not certain, and when there may be dangers to be incurred'; but New Switzerland has now a place on the map, and in the interest of its future colonists it is important that its extent should be known, the formation of its coasts and its resources."

  "Quite so, dear, quite so," Mme. Zermatt answered, "but could not all that exploration be done better by the new arrivals?"

  "Well, there would be no real harm done by waiting," M. Zermatt admitted, "and the work might be undertaken under better conditions. But you know, Betsy, Mr. Wolston has this idea very much at heart, and Ernest is anxious to complete the map of New Switzerland. So I think it is right to satisfy them."

  "I would not say no, dear, if it did not mean another separation," Mme. Zermatt replied.

  "A separation for a fortnight at most!"

  "Unless Mrs. Wolston and Hannah and I go too."

  "That would not be wise, dear wife," M. Zermatt said firmly. "If not dangerous, the expedition may at least be arduous and fatiguing. It will mean walking across an arid desert under a broiling sun. The ascent of the range is sure to be difficult."

  "And so we are all to stay at Rock Castle?"

  "Yes, Betsy, but I do not propose that you shall be left there alone. I have thought a great deal about it, a
nd this is what I have decided, and what will meet with general approval, I think. Mr. Wolston shall make the trip with our two boys, Ernest to take the observations, and Jack, because he would never consent to forego such an opportunity, to go exploring; and I will remain at Rock Castle. Will that suit you, Betsy?"

  "What a question, dear!" Mme. Zermatt answered. "We can have every confidence in Mr. Wolston. He will not let himself be dragged into any indiscretion. Our two boys will run no risk with him."

  "I think this plan will satisfy Mrs. Wolston and Hannah," M. Zermatt went on.

  "Hannah will be rather sorry when our Ernest is away," said Mme. Zermatt.

  "And Ernest will be sorry to go without her," M. Zermatt added. "Yes, those two young creatures are attracted towards each other, and some day Ernest will be united to the woman he loves in the chapel he has designed! But we will talk about that marriage again, at the proper time."