Part 1 - Dropped from the Clouds: Chapter 5

by Jules Verne

　　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, to leadout the smoke and to make the fire draw. The cave was thus divided intothree or four rooms, if such dark dens with which a donkey would scarcelyhave been contented deserved the name. But they were dry, and there wasspace to stand upright, at least in the principal room, which occupied thecenter. The floor was covered with fine sand, and taking all in all theywere 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 will finda 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 take theheat out with it, would be enough to maintain an equal temperature inside.Their wood was stowed away in one of the rooms, and the sailor laid in thefireplace some logs and brushwood. The seaman was busy with this, whenHerbert 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, "by rubbingtwo 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 of thePacific."

　　"I don't deny it," replied Pencroft, "but the savages must know how to doit or employ a peculiar wood, for more than once I have tried to get firein that way, but I could never manage it. I must say I prefer matches. Bythe 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 discover thebox.

　　"Here's a go!" said he, looking at Herbert. "The box must have fallen outof my pocket and got lost! Surely, Herbert, you must have something--atinder-box--anything that can possibly make fire!"

　　"No, I haven't, Pencroft."

　　The sailor rushed out, followed by the boy. On the sand, among the rocks,near the river's bank, they both searched carefully, but in vain. The boxwas 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. I wouldrather 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 well totry. Herbert and Pencroft walked rapidly to the point where they had landedthe day before, about two hundred feet from the cave. They hunted there,among the shingle, in the clefts of the rocks, but found nothing. If thebox had fallen at this place it must have been swept away by the waves. Asthe sea went down, they searched every little crevice with no result. Itwas a grave loss in their circumstances, and for the time irreparable.Pencroft could not hide his vexation; he looked very anxious, but said nota word. Herbert tried to console him by observing, that if they had foundthe matches, they would, very likely, have been wetted by the sea anduseless.

　　"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 keep hisnote-book than his match-box."

　　Herbert did not reply. The loss of the box was certainly to be regretted,but the boy was still sure of procuring fire in some way or other.Pencroft, more experienced, did not think so, although he was not a man totrouble himself about a small or great grievance. At any rate, there wasonly one thing to be done--to await the return of Neb and the reporter; butthey must give up the feast of hard eggs which they had meant to prepare,and a meal of raw flesh was not an agreeable prospect either for themselvesor 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. He evenclimbed up the left bank of the river from its mouth to the angle where theraft had been moored. He returned to the plateau, went over it in everydirection, searched among the high grass on the border of the forest, allin vain.

　　It was five in the evening when he and Herbert re-entered the cave. It isuseless to say that the darkest corners of the passages were ransackedbefore they were obliged to give it up in despair. Towards six o'clock,when the sun was disappearing behind the high lands of the west, Herbert,who was walking up and down on the strand, signalized the return of Neb andSpilett.

　　They were returning alone!... The boy's heart sank; the sailor had notbeen deceived in his forebodings; the engineer, Cyrus Harding, had not beenfound!

　　The reporter, on his arrival, sat down on a rock, without sayinganything. Exhausted with fatigue, dying of hunger, he had not strength toutter 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 to recoverCyrus Harding. He and Neb had surveyed the coast for a distance of eightmiles and consequently much beyond the place where the balloon had fallenthe last time but one, a fall which was followed by the disappearance ofthe engineer and the dog Top. The shore was solitary; not a vestige of amark. Not even a pebble recently displaced; not a trace on the sand; not ahuman footstep on all that part of the beach. It was clear that thatportion of the shore had never been visited by a human being. The sea wasas deserted as the land, and it was there, a few hundred feet from thecoast, that the engineer must have found a tomb.

　　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 get outof anything!" Then his strength forsaking him, "Oh! I can do no more!" hemurmured.

　　"Neb," said Herbert, running to him, "we will find him! God will give himback 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 anything forseveral hours, but he refused them. He could not, would not live withouthis master.

　　As to Gideon Spilett, he devoured 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, "we have founda shelter which will be better than lying here. Night is advancing. Comeand rest! To-morrow we will search farther."

　　The reporter got up, and guided by the boy went towards the cave. On theway, Pencroft asked him in the most natural tone, if by chance he happenedto 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 area smoker and always have matches about you; perhaps you haven't lookedwell, 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 the aircould 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 a small,rough stone, he wiped it carefully, and with a beating heart, holding hisbreath, he gently rubbed the match. The first attempt did not produce anyeffect. Pencroft had not struck hard enough, fearing to rub off thephosphorus.

　　"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 his place.

　　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, making achoking smoke. Herbert quickly turned the match so as to augment the flame,and then slipped it into the paper cone, which in a few seconds too caughtfire, and then the moss.

　　A minute later the dry wood crackled and a cheerful flame, assisted bythe vigorous blowing of the sailor, sprang up in the midst of the darkness.

　　"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 easily outat the narrow passage, the chimney drew, and an agreeable warmth was notlong 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 were brought byHerbert. The reporter leaning up in a corner, watched these preparationswithout saying anything. A threefold thought weighed on his mind. Was Cyrusstill alive? If he was alive, where was he? If he had survived from hisfall, how was it that he had not found some means of making known hisexistence? As to Neb, he was roaming about the shore. He was like a bodywithout a soul.

　　Pencroft knew fifty ways of cooking eggs, but this time he had no choice,and was obliged to content himself with roasting them under the hotcinders. In a few minutes the cooking was done, and the seaman invited thereporter to take his share of the supper. Such was the first repast of thecastaways on this unknown coast. The hard eggs were excellent, and as eggscontain everything indispensable to man's nourishment, these poor peoplethought themselves well off, and were much strengthened by them. Oh! ifonly one of them had not been missing at this meal! If the five prisonerswho escaped from Richmond had been all there, under the piled-up rocks,before this clear, crackling fire on the dry sand, what thanksgiving mustthey have rendered to Heaven! But the most ingenious, the most learned, hewho was their unquestioned chief, Cyrus Harding, was, alas! missing, andhis body had not even obtained 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 breaking onthe 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, the lossof their leader, the exploration of the coast, the incident of the matches,etc.; and then overcome by fatigue, he managed to forget his sorrows insleep. Herbert went to sleep directly. As to the sailor, he passed thenight with one eye on the fire, on which he did not spare fuel. But one ofthe castaways did not sleep in the cave. The inconsolable, despairing Neb,notwithstanding all that his companions could say to induce him to takesome rest, wandered all night long on the shore calling on his master.