Part 1 - Dropped from the Clouds: Chapter 8

by Jules Verne

　　Neb did not move. Pencroft only uttered one word.

　　"Living?" he cried.

　　Neb did not reply. Spilett and the sailor turned pale. Herbert claspedhis hands, and remained motionless. The poor Negro, absorbed in his grief,evidently had neither seen his companions nor heard the sailor speak.

　　The reporter knelt down beside the motionless body, and placed his ear tothe engineer's chest, having first torn open his clothes.

　　A minute--an age!--passed, during which he endeavored to catch thefaintest throb of the heart.

　　Neb had raised himself a little and gazed without seeing. Despair hadcompletely changed his countenance. He could scarcely be recognized,exhausted with fatigue, broken with grief. He believed his master was dead.

　　Gideon Spilett at last rose, after a long and attentive examination.

　　"He lives!" said he.

　　Pencroft knelt in his turn beside the engineer, he also heard athrobbing, and even felt a slight breath on his cheek.

　　Herbert at a word from the reporter ran out to look for water. He found,a hundred feet off, a limpid stream, which seemed to have been greatlyincreased by the rains, and which filtered through the sand; but nothing inwhich to put the water, not even a shell among the downs. The lad wasobliged to content himself with dipping his handkerchief in the stream, andwith it hastened back to the grotto.

　　Happily the wet handkerchief was enough for Gideon Spilett, who onlywished to wet the engineer's lips. The cold water produced an almostimmediate effect. His chest heaved and he seemed to try to speak.

　　"We will save him!" exclaimed the reporter.

　　At these words hope revived in Neb's heart. He undressed his master tosee if he was wounded, but not so much as a bruise was to be found, eitheron the head, body, or limbs, which was surprising, as he must have beendashed against the rocks; even the hands were uninjured, and it wasdifficult to explain how the engineer showed no traces of the efforts whichhe must have made to get out of reach of the breakers.

　　But the explanation would come later. When Cyrus was able to speak hewould say what had happened. For the present the question was, how torecall him to life, and it appeared likely that rubbing would bring thisabout; so they set to work with the sailor's jersey.

　　The engineer, revived by this rude shampooing, moved his arm slightly andbegan to breathe more regularly. He was sinking from exhaustion, andcertainly, had not the reporter and his companions arrived, it would havebeen all over with Cyrus Harding.

　　"You thought your master was dead, didn't you?" said the seaman to Neb.

　　"Yes! quite dead!" replied Neb, "and if Top had not found you, andbrought you here, I should have buried my master, and then have lain downon his grave to die!"

　　It had indeed been a narrow escape for Cyrus Harding!

　　Neb then recounted what had happened. The day before, after having leftthe Chimneys at daybreak, he had ascended the coast in a northerlydirection, and had reached that part of the shore which he had alreadyvisited.

　　There, without any hope he acknowledged, Neb had searched the beach,among the rocks, on the sand, for the smallest trace to guide him. Heexamined particularly that part of the beach which was not covered by thehigh tide, for near the sea the water would have obliterated all marks. Nebdid not expect to find his master living. It was for a corpse that hesearched, a corpse which he wished to bury with his own hands!

　　He sought long in vain. This desert coast appeared never to have beenvisited by a human creature. The shells, those which the sea had notreached, and which might be met with by millions above high-water mark,were untouched. Not a shell was broken.

　　Neb then resolved to walk along the beach for some miles. It was possiblethat the waves had carried the body to quite a distant point. When a corpsefloats a little distance from a low shore, it rarely happens that the tidedoes not throw it up, sooner or later. This Neb knew, and he wished to seehis master again for the last time.

　　"I went along the coast for another two miles, carefully examining thebeach, both at high and low water, and I had despaired of finding anything,when yesterday, above five in the evening, I saw footprints on the sand."

　　"Footprints?" exclaimed Pencroft.

　　"Yes!" replied Neb.

　　"Did these footprints begin at the water's edge?" asked the reporter.

　　"No," replied Neb, "only above high-water mark, for the others must havebeen washed out by the tide."

　　"Go on, Neb," said Spilett.

　　"I went half crazy when I saw these footprints. They were very clear andwent towards the downs. I followed them for a quarter of a mile, running,but taking care not to destroy them. Five minutes after, as it was gettingdark, I heard the barking of a dog. It was Top, and Top brought me here, tomy master!"

　　Neb ended his account by saying what had been his grief at finding theinanimate body, in which he vainly sought for the least sign of life. Nowthat he had found him dead he longed for him to be alive. All his effortswere useless! Nothing remained to be done but to render the last duties tothe one whom he had loved so much! Neb then thought of his companions.They, no doubt, would wish to see the unfortunate man again. Top was there.Could he not rely on the sagacity of the faithful animal? Neb several timespronounced the name of the reporter, the one among his companions whom Topknew best.

　　Then he pointed to the south, and the dog bounded off in the directionindicated to him.

　　We have heard how, guided by an instinct which might be looked uponalmost as supernatural, Top had found them.

　　Neb's companions had listened with great attention to this account.

　　It was unaccountable to them how Cyrus Harding, after the efforts whichhe must have made to escape from the waves by crossing the rocks, had notreceived even a scratch. And what could not be explained either was how theengineer had managed to get to this cave in the downs, more than a milefrom the shore.

　　"So, Neb," said the reporter, "it was not you who brought your master tothis place."

　　"No, it was not I," replied the Negro.

　　"It's very clear that the captain came here by himself," said Pencroft.

　　"It is clear in reality," observed Spilett, "but it is not credible!"

　　The explanation of this fact could only be produced from the engineer'sown lips, and they must wait for that till speech returned. Rubbing hadre-established the circulation of the blood. Cyrus Harding moved his armagain, then his head, and a few incomprehensible words escaped him.

　　Neb, who was bending over him, spoke, but the engineer did not appear tohear, and his eyes remained closed. Life was only exhibited in him bymovement, his senses had not as yet been restored.

　　Pencroft much regretted not having either fire, or the means of procuringit, for he had, unfortunately, forgotten to bring the burnt linen, whichwould easily have ignited from the sparks produced by striking together twoflints. As to the engineer's pockets, they were entirely empty, except thatof his waistcoat, which contained his watch. It was necessary to carryHarding to the Chimneys, and that as soon as possible. This was the opinionof all.

　　Meanwhile, the care which was lavished on the engineer brought him backto consciousness sooner than they could have expected. The water with whichthey wetted his lips revived him gradually. Pencroft also thought of mixingwith the water some moisture from the titra's flesh which he had brought.Herbert ran to the beach and returned with two large bivalve shells. Thesailor concocted something which he introduced between the lips of theengineer, who eagerly drinking it opened his eyes.

　　Neb and the reporter were leaning over him.

　　"My master! my master!" cried Neb.

　　The engineer heard him. He recognized Neb and Spilett, then his other twocompanions, and his hand slightly pressed theirs.

　　A few words again escaped him, which showed what thoughts were, eventhen, troubling his brain. This time he was understood. Undoubtedly theywere the same words he had before attempted to utter.

　　"Island or continent?" he murmured.

　　"Bother the continent," cried Pencroft hastily; "there is time enough tosee about that, captain! we don't care for anything, provided you areliving."

　　The engineer nodded faintly, and then appeased to sleep.

　　They respected this sleep, and the reporter began immediately to makearrangements for transporting Harding to a more comfortable place. Neb,Herbert, and Pencroft left the cave and directed their steps towards a highmound crowned with a few distorted trees. On the way the sailor could nothelp repeating,--

　　"Island or continent! To think of that, when at one's last gasp! What aman!"

　　Arrived at the summit of the mound, Pencroft and his two companions setto work, with no other tools than their hands, to despoil of its principalbranches a rather sickly tree, a sort of marine fir; with these branchesthey made a litter, on which, covered with grass and leaves, they couldcarry the engineer.

　　This occupied them nearly forty minutes, and it was ten o'clock when theyreturned to Cyrus Harding whom Spilett had not left.

　　The engineer was just awaking from the sleep, or rather from thedrowsiness, in which they had found him. The color was returning to hischeeks, which till now had been as pale as death. He raised himself alittle, looked around him, and appeared to ask where he was.

　　"Can you listen to me without fatigue, Cyrus?" asked the reporter.

　　"Yes," replied the engineer.

　　"It's my opinion," said the sailor, "that Captain Harding will be able tolisten to you still better, if he will have some more grouse jelly,--for wehave grouse, captain," added he, presenting him with a little of thisjelly, to which he this time added some of the flesh.

　　Cyrus Harding ate a little of the grouse, and the rest was divided amonghis companions, who found it but a meager breakfast, for they weresuffering extremely from hunger.

　　"Well!" said the sailor, "there is plenty of food at the Chimneys, foryou must know, captain, that down there, in the south, we have a house,with rooms, beds, and fireplace, and in the pantry, several dozen of birds,which our Herbert calls couroucous. Your litter is ready, and as soon asyou feel strong enough we will carry you home."

　　"Thanks, my friend," replied the engineer; "wait another hour or two, andthen we will set out. And now speak, Spilett."

　　The reporter then told him all that had occurred. He recounted all theevents with which Cyrus was unacquainted, the last fall of the balloon, thelanding on this unknown land, which appeared a desert (whatever it was,whether island or continent), the discovery of the Chimneys, the search forhim, not forgetting of course Neb's devotion, the intelligence exhibited bythe faithful Top, as well as many other matters.

　　"But," asked Harding, in a still feeble voice, "you did not, then, pickme up on the beach?"

　　"No," replied the reporter.

　　"And did you not bring me to this cave?"

　　"No."

　　"At what distance is this cave from the sea?"

　　"About a mile," replied Pencroft; "and if you are astonished, captain, weare not less surprised ourselves at seeing you in this place!"

　　"Indeed," said the engineer, who was recovering gradually, and who tookgreat interest in these details, "indeed it is very singular!"

　　"But," resumed the sailor, "can you tell us what happened after you werecarried off by the sea?"

　　Cyrus Harding considered. He knew very little. The wave had torn him fromthe balloon net. He sank at first several fathoms. On returning to thesurface, in the half light, he felt a living creature struggling near him.It was Top, who had sprung to his help. He saw nothing of the balloon,which, lightened both of his weight and that of the dog, had darted awaylike an arrow.

　　There he was, in the midst of the angry sea, at a distance which couldnot be less than half a mile from the shore. He attempted to struggleagainst the billows by swimming vigorously. Top held him up by his clothes;but a strong current seized him and drove him towards the north, and afterhalf an hour of exertion, he sank, dragging Top with him into the depths.From that moment to the moment in which he recovered to find himself in thearms of his friends he remembered nothing.

　　"However," remarked Pencroft, "you must have been thrown on to the beach,and you must have had strength to walk here, since Neb found yourfootmarks!"

　　"Yes... of course replied the engineer, thoughtfully; "and you found notraces of human beings on this coast?"

　　"Not a trace," replied the reporter; "besides, if by chance you had metwith some deliverer there, just in the nick of time, why should he haveabandoned you after having saved you from the waves?"

　　"You are right, my dear Spilett. Tell me, Neb," added the engineer,turning to his servant, "it was not you who... you can't have had a momentof unconsciousness... during which no, that's absurd.... Do any of thefootsteps still remain?" asked Harding.

　　"Yes, master, replied Neb; "here, at the entrance, at the back of themound, in a place sheltered from the rain and wind. The storm has destroyedthe others."

　　"Pencroft," said Cyrus Harding, "will you take my shoe and see if it fitsexactly to the footprints?"

　　The sailor did as the engineer requested. While he and Herbert, guided byNeb, went to the place where the footprints were to be found, Cyrusremarked to the reporter,--

　　"It is a most extraordinary thing!"

　　"Perfectly inexplicable!" replied Gideon Spilett.

　　"But do not dwell upon it just now, my dear Spilett, we will talk aboutit by-and-by."

　　A moment after the others entered.

　　There was no doubt about it. The engineer's shoe fitted exactly to thefootmarks. It was therefore Cyrus Harding who had left them on the sand.

　　"Come," said he, "I must have experienced this unconsciousness which Iattributed to Neb. I must have walked like a somnambulist, without anyknowledge of my steps, and Top must have guided me here, after havingdragged me from the waves... Come, Top! Come, old dog!"

　　The magnificent animal bounded barking to his master, and caresses werelavished on him. It was agreed that there was no other way of accountingfor the rescue of Cyrus Harding, and that Top deserved all the honor of theaffair.

　　Towards twelve o'clock, Pencroft having asked the engineer if they couldnow remove him, Harding, instead of replying, and by an effort whichexhibited the most energetic will, got up. But he was obliged to lean onthe sailor, or he would have fallen.

　　"Well done!" cried Pencroft; "bring the captain's litter."

　　The litter was brought; the transverse branches had been covered withleaves and long grass. Harding was laid on it, and Pencroft, having takenhis place at one end and Neb at the other, they started towards the coast.There was a distance of eight miles to be accomplished; but, as they couldnot go fast, and it would perhaps be necessary to stop frequently, theyreckoned that it would take at least six hours to reach the Chimneys. Thewind was still strong, but fortunately it did not rain. Although lyingdown, the engineer, leaning on his elbow, observed the coast, particularlyinland. He did not speak, but he gazed; and, no doubt, the appearance ofthe country, with its inequalities of ground, its forests, its variousproductions, were impressed on his mind. However, after traveling for twohours, fatigue overcame him, and he slept.

　　At half-past five the little band arrived at the precipice, and a shorttime after at the Chimneys.

　　They stopped, and the litter was placed on the sand; Cyrus Harding wassleeping profoundly, and did not awake.

　　Pencroft, to his extreme surprise, found that the terrible storm hadquite altered the aspect of the place. Important changes had occurred;great blocks of stone lay on the beach, which was also covered with a thickcarpet of sea-weed, algae, and wrack. Evidently the sea, passing over theislet, had been carried right up to the foot of the enormous curtain ofgranite. The soil in front of the cave had been torn away by the violenceof the waves. A horrid presentiment flashed across Pencroft's mind. Herushed into the passage, but returned almost immediately, and stoodmotionless, staring at his companions.... The fire was out; the drownedcinders were nothing but mud; the burnt linen, which was to have served astinder, had disappeared! The sea had penetrated to the end of the passages,and everything was overthrown and destroyed in the interior of theChimneys!