by Jules Verne
Chapter 5
Pencroft's first care, after unloading the raft, was to render the cavehabitable by stopping up all the holes which made it draughty. Sand,stones, twisted branches, wet clay, closed up the galleries open to thesouth winds. One narrow and winding opening at the side was kept, tolead out the smoke and to make the fire draw. The cave was thus dividedinto three or four rooms, if such dark dens with which a donkey wouldscarcely have been contented deserved the name. But they were dry, andthere was space to stand upright, at least in the principal room, whichoccupied the center. The floor was covered with fine sand, and takingall in all they were well pleased with it for want of a better.
"Perhaps," said Herbert, while he and Pencroft were working, "ourcompanions have found a superior place to ours."
"Very likely," replied the seaman; "but, as we don't know, we must workall the same. Better to have two strings to one's bow than no string atall!"
"Oh!" exclaimed Herbert, "how jolly it will be if they were to findCaptain Harding and were to bring him back with them!"
"Yes, indeed!" said Pencroft, "that was a man of the right sort."
"Was!" exclaimed Herbert, "do you despair of ever seeing him again?"
"God forbid!" replied the sailor. Their work was soon done, and Pencroftdeclared himself very well satisfied.
"Now," said he, "our friends can come back when they like. They willfind a good enough shelter."
They now had only to make a fireplace and to prepare the supper--an easytask. Large flat stones were placed on the ground at the opening of thenarrow passage which had been kept. This, if the smoke did not takethe heat out with it, would be enough to maintain an equal temperatureinside. Their wood was stowed away in one of the rooms, and the sailorlaid in the fireplace some logs and brushwood. The seaman was busy withthis, when Herbert asked him if he had any matches.
"Certainly," replied Pencroft, "and I may say happily, for withoutmatches or tinder we should be in a fix."
"Still we might get fire as the savages do," replied Herbert, "byrubbing two bits of dry stick one against the other."
"All right; try, my boy, and let's see if you can do anything besidesexercising your arms."
"Well, it's a very simple proceeding, and much used in the islands ofthe Pacific."
"I don't deny it," replied Pencroft, "but the savages must know how todo it or employ a peculiar wood, for more than once I have tried toget fire in that way, but I could never manage it. I must say I prefermatches. By the bye, where are my matches?"
Pencroft searched in his waistcoat for the box, which was always there,for he was a confirmed smoker. He could not find it; he rummaged thepockets of his trousers, but, to his horror, he could nowhere discoverthe box.
"Here's a go!" said he, looking at Herbert. "The box must havefallen out of my pocket and got lost! Surely, Herbert, you must havesomething--a tinder-box--anything that can possibly make fire!"
"No, I haven't, Pencroft."
The sailor rushed out, followed by the boy. On the sand, among therocks, near the river's bank, they both searched carefully, but in vain.The box was of copper, and therefore would have been easily seen.
"Pencroft," asked Herbert, "didn't you throw it out of the car?"
"I knew better than that," replied the sailor; "but such a small articlecould easily disappear in the tumbling about we have gone through. Iwould rather even have lost my pipe! Confound the box! Where can it be?"
"Look here, the tide is going down," said Herbert; "let's run to theplace where we landed."
It was scarcely probable that they would find the box, which the waveshad rolled about among the pebbles, at high tide, but it was as wellto try. Herbert and Pencroft walked rapidly to the point where they hadlanded the day before, about two hundred feet from the cave. They huntedthere, among the shingle, in the clefts of the rocks, but found nothing.If the box had fallen at this place it must have been swept away by thewaves. As the sea went down, they searched every little crevice withno result. It was a grave loss in their circumstances, and for thetime irreparable. Pencroft could not hide his vexation; he looked veryanxious, but said not a word. Herbert tried to console him by observing,that if they had found the matches, they would, very likely, have beenwetted by the sea and useless.
"No, my boy," replied the sailor; "they were in a copper box which shutvery tightly; and now what are we to do?"
"We shall certainly find some way of making a fire," said Herbert."Captain Harding or Mr. Spilett will not be without them."
"Yes," replied Pencroft; "but in the meantime we are without fire, andour companions will find but a sorry repast on their return."
"But," said Herbert quickly, "do you think it possible that they have notinder or matches?"
"I doubt it," replied the sailor, shaking his head, "for neither Neb norCaptain Harding smoke, and I believe that Mr. Spilett would rather keephis note-book than his match-box."
Herbert did not reply. The loss of the box was certainly to beregretted, but the boy was still sure of procuring fire in some way orother. Pencroft, more experienced, did not think so, although he was nota man to trouble himself about a small or great grievance. At any rate,there was only one thing to be done--to await the return of Neb and thereporter; but they must give up the feast of hard eggs which they hadmeant to prepare, and a meal of raw flesh was not an agreeable prospecteither for themselves or for the others.
Before returning to the cave, the sailor and Herbert, in the event offire being positively unattainable, collected some more shell-fish, andthen silently retraced their steps to their dwelling.
Pencroft, his eyes fixed on the ground, still looked for his box. Heeven climbed up the left bank of the river from its mouth to the anglewhere the raft had been moored. He returned to the plateau, went over itin every direction, searched among the high grass on the border of theforest, all in vain.
It was five in the evening when he and Herbert re-entered the cave.It is useless to say that the darkest corners of the passages wereransacked before they were obliged to give it up in despair. Towardssix o'clock, when the sun was disappearing behind the high lands of thewest, Herbert, who was walking up and down on the strand, signalized thereturn of Neb and Spilett.
They were returning alone!... The boy's heart sank; the sailor had notbeen deceived in his forebodings; the engineer, Cyrus Harding, had notbeen found!
The reporter, on his arrival, sat down on a rock, without sayinganything. Exhausted with fatigue, dying of hunger, he had not strengthto utter a word.
As to Neb, his red eyes showed how he had cried, and the tears which hecould not restrain told too clearly that he had lost all hope.
The reporter recounted all that they had done in their attempt torecover Cyrus Harding. He and Neb had surveyed the coast for a distanceof eight miles and consequently much beyond the place where the balloonhad fallen the last time but one, a fall which was followed by thedisappearance of the engineer and the dog Top. The shore was solitary;not a vestige of a mark. Not even a pebble recently displaced; not atrace on the sand; not a human footstep on all that part of the beach.It was clear that that portion of the shore had never been visited bya human being. The sea was as deserted as the land, and it was there,a few hundred feet from the coast, that the engineer must have found atomb.
As Spilett ended his account, Neb jumped up, exclaiming in a voice whichshowed how hope struggled within him, "No! he is not dead! he can't bedead! It might happen to any one else, but never to him! He could getout of anything!" Then his strength forsaking him, "Oh! I can do nomore!" he murmured.
"Neb," said Herbert, running to him, "we will find him! God will givehim back to us! But in the meantime you are hungry, and you must eatsomething."
So saying, he offered the poor Negro a few handfuls of shell-fish, whichwas indeed wretched and insufficient food. Neb had not eaten anythingfor several hours, but he refused them. He could not, would not livewithout his master.
As to Gideon Spilett, he devou
red the shell-fish, then he laid himselfdown on the sand, at the foot of a rock. He was very weak, but calm.Herbert went up to him, and taking his hand, "Sir," said he, "wehave found a shelter which will be better than lying here. Night isadvancing. Come and rest! To-morrow we will search farther."
The reporter got up, and guided by the boy went towards the cave. Onthe way, Pencroft asked him in the most natural tone, if by chance hehappened to have a match or two.
The reporter stopped, felt in his pockets, but finding nothing said, "Ihad some, but I must have thrown them away."
The seaman then put the same question to Neb and received the sameanswer.
"Confound it!" exclaimed the sailor.
The reporter heard him and seizing his arm, "Have you no matches?" heasked.
"Not one, and no fire in consequence."
"Ah!" cried Neb, "if my master was here, he would know what to do!"
The four castaways remained motionless, looking uneasily at each other.Herbert was the first to break the silence by saying, "Mr. Spilett,you are a smoker and always have matches about you; perhaps you haven'tlooked well, try again, a single match will be enough!"
The reporter hunted again in the pockets of his trousers, waistcoat, andgreat-coat, and at last to Pencroft's great joy, no less to his extremesurprise, he felt a tiny piece of wood entangled in the lining of hiswaistcoat. He seized it with his fingers through the stuff, but he couldnot get it out. If this was a match and a single one, it was of greatimportance not to rub off the phosphorus.
"Will you let me try?" said the boy, and very cleverly, without breakingit, he managed to draw out the wretched yet precious little bit of woodwhich was of such great importance to these poor men. It was unused.
"Hurrah!" cried Pencroft; "it is as good as having a whole cargo!" Hetook the match, and, followed by his companions, entered the cave.
This small piece of wood, of which so many in an inhabited country arewasted with indifference and are of no value, must here be used with thegreatest caution.
The sailor first made sure that it was quite dry; that done, "We musthave some paper," said he.
"Here," replied Spilett, after some hesitation tearing a leaf out of hisnote-book.
Pencroft took the piece of paper which the reporter held out to him, andknelt down before the fireplace. Some handfuls of grass, leaves, and drymoss were placed under the fagots and disposed in such a way that theair could easily circulate, and the dry wood would rapidly catch fire.
Pencroft then twisted the piece of paper into the shape of a cone, assmokers do in a high wind, and poked it in among the moss. Taking asmall, rough stone, he wiped it carefully, and with a beating heart,holding his breath, he gently rubbed the match. The first attempt didnot produce any effect. Pencroft had not struck hard enough, fearing torub off the phosphorus.
"No, I can't do it," said he, "my hand trembles, the match has missedfire; I cannot, I will not!" and rising, he told Herbert to take hisplace.
Certainly the boy had never in all his life been so nervous. Prometheusgoing to steal the fire from heaven could not have been more anxious. Hedid not hesitate, however, but struck the match directly.
A little spluttering was heard and a tiny blue flame sprang up, makinga choking smoke. Herbert quickly turned the match so as to augment theflame, and then slipped it into the paper cone, which in a few secondstoo caught fire, and then the moss.
A minute later the dry wood crackled and a cheerful flame, assistedby the vigorous blowing of the sailor, sprang up in the midst of thedarkness.
"At last!" cried Pencroft, getting up; "I was never so nervous before inall my life!"
The flat stones made a capital fireplace. The smoke went quite easilyout at the narrow passage, the chimney drew, and an agreeable warmth wasnot long in being felt.
They must now take great care not to let the fire go out, and always tokeep some embers alight. It only needed care and attention, as they hadplenty of wood and could renew their store at any time.
Pencroft's first thought was to use the fire by preparing a morenourishing supper than a dish of shell-fish. Two dozen eggs werebrought by Herbert. The reporter leaning up in a corner, watched thesepreparations without saying anything. A threefold thought weighed on hismind. Was Cyrus still alive? If he was alive, where was he? If he hadsurvived from his fall, how was it that he had not found some means ofmaking known his existence? As to Neb, he was roaming about the shore.He was like a body without a soul.
Pencroft knew fifty ways of cooking eggs, but this time he had nochoice, and was obliged to content himself with roasting them underthe hot cinders. In a few minutes the cooking was done, and the seamaninvited the reporter to take his share of the supper. Such was thefirst repast of the castaways on this unknown coast. The hard eggswere excellent, and as eggs contain everything indispensable to man'snourishment, these poor people thought themselves well off, and weremuch strengthened by them. Oh! if only one of them had not been missingat this meal! If the five prisoners who escaped from Richmond had beenall there, under the piled-up rocks, before this clear, crackling fireon the dry sand, what thanksgiving must they have rendered to Heaven!But the most ingenious, the most learned, he who was their unquestionedchief, Cyrus Harding, was, alas! missing, and his body had not evenobtained a burial-place.
Thus passed the 25th of March. Night had come on. Outside could be heardthe howling of the wind and the monotonous sound of the surf breakingon the shore. The waves rolled the shingle backwards and forwards with adeafening noise.
The reporter retired into a dark corner after having shortly noted downthe occurrences of the day; the first appearance of this new land, theloss of their leader, the exploration of the coast, the incident of thematches, etc.; and then overcome by fatigue, he managed to forget hissorrows in sleep. Herbert went to sleep directly. As to the sailor, hepassed the night with one eye on the fire, on which he did notspare fuel. But one of the castaways did not sleep in the cave. Theinconsolable, despairing Neb, notwithstanding all that his companionscould say to induce him to take some rest, wandered all night long onthe shore calling on his master.