Part 2 - Abandoned: Chapter 14

by Jules Verne

　　Pencroft, Herbert, and Gideon Spilett remained silent in the midst of thedarkness.

　　Pencroft shouted loudly.

　　No reply was made.

　　The sailor then struck a light and set fire to a twig. This lighted for aminute a small room, which appeared perfectly empty. At the back was a rudefireplace, with a few cold cinders, supporting an armful of dry wood.Pencroft threw the blazing twig on it, the wood crackled and gave forth abright light.

　　The sailor and his two companions then perceived a disordered bed, ofwhich the damp and yellow coverlets proved that it had not been used for along time. In the corner of the fireplace were two kettles, covered withrust, and an overthrown pot. A cupboard, with a few moldy sailor's clothes;on the table a tin plate and a Bible, eaten away by damp; in a corner a fewtools, a spade, pickaxe, two fowling-pieces, one of which was broken; on aplank, forming a shelf, stood a barrel of powder, still untouched, a barrelof shot, and several boxes of caps, all thickly covered with dust,accumulated, perhaps, by many long years.

　　"There is no one here," said the reporter.

　　"No one," replied Pencroft.

　　"It is a long time since this room has been inhabited," observed Herbert.

　　"Yes, a very long time!" answered the reporter.

　　"Mr. Spilett," then said Pencroft, "instead of returning on board, Ithink that it would be well to pass the night in this hut."

　　"You are right, Pencroft," answered Gideon Spilett, "and if its ownerreturns, well! perhaps he will not be sorry to find the place takenpossession of."

　　"He will not return," said the sailor, shaking his head.

　　"You think that he has quitted the island?" asked the reporter.

　　"If he had quitted the island he would have taken away his weapons andhis tools," replied Pencroft. "You know the value which castaways set onsuch articles as these the last remains of a wreck. No! no!" repeated thesailor, in a tone of conviction; "no, he has not left the island! If he hadescaped in a boat made by himself, he would still less have left theseindispensable and necessary articles. No! he is on the island!"

　　"Living?" asked Herbert.

　　"Living or dead. But if he is dead, I suppose he has not buried himself,and so we shall at least find his remains!"

　　It was then agreed that the night should be passed in the deserteddwelling, and a store of wood found in a corner was sufficient to warm it.The door closed, Pencroft, Herbert and Spilett remained there, seated on abench, talking little but wondering much. They were in a frame of mind toimagine anything or expect anything. They listened eagerly for soundsoutside. The door might have opened suddenly, and a man presented himselfto them without their being in the least surprised, notwithstanding allthat the hut revealed of abandonment, and they had their hands ready topress the hands of this man, this castaway, this unknown friend, for whomfriends were waiting.

　　But no voice was heard, the door did not open. The hours thus passedaway.

　　How long the night appeared to the sailor and his companions! Herbertalone slept for two hours, for at his age sleep is a necessity. They wereall three anxious to continue their exploration of the day before, and tosearch the most secret recesses of the islet! The inferences deduced byPencroft were perfectly reasonable, and it was nearly certain that, as thehut was deserted, and the tools, utensils, and weapons were still there,the owner had succumbed. It was agreed, therefore, that they should searchfor his remains, and give them at least Christian burial.

　　Day dawned; Pencroft and his companions immediately proceeded to surveythe dwelling. It had certainly been built in a favorable situation, at theback of a little hill, sheltered by five or six magnificent gum-trees.Before its front and through the trees the axe had prepared a wideclearing, which allowed the view to extend to the sea. Beyond a lawn,surrounded by a wooden fence falling to pieces, was the shore, on the leftof which was the mouth of the stream.

　　The hut had been built of planks, and it was easy to see that theseplanks had been obtained from the hull or deck of a ship. It was probablethat a disabled vessel had been cast on the coast of the island, that oneat least of the crew had been saved, and that by means of the wreck thisman, having tools at his disposal, had built the dwelling.

　　And this became still more evident when Gideon Spilett, after havingwalked around the hut, saw on a plank, probably one of those which hadformed the armor of the wrecked vessel, these letters already half effaced:

　　BR--TAN--A"Britannia," exclaimed Pencroft, whom the reporter had called; "it is acommon name for ships, and I could not say if she was English or American!"

　　"It matters very little, Pencroft!"

　　"Very little indeed," answered the sailor, "and we will save the survivorof her crew if he is still living, to whatever country he may belong. Butbefore beginning our search again let us go on board the 'Bonadventure'."

　　A sort of uneasiness had seized Pencroft upon the subject of his vessel.Should the island be inhabited after all, and should some one have takenpossession of her? But he shrugged his shoulders at such an unreasonablesupposition. At any rate the sailor was not sorry to go to breakfast onboard. The road already trodden was not long, scarcely a mile. They set outon their walk, gazing into the wood and thickets through which goats andpigs fled in hundreds.

　　Twenty minutes after leaving the hut Pencroft and his companions reachedthe western coast of the island, and saw the "Bonadventure" held fast byher anchor, which was buried deep in the sand.

　　Pencroft could not restrain a sigh of satisfaction. After all this vesselwas his child, and it is the right of fathers to be often uneasy when thereis no occasion for it.

　　They returned on board, breakfasted, so that it should not be necessaryto dine until very late; then the repast being ended, the exploration wascontinued and conducted with the most minute care. Indeed, it was veryprobable that the only inhabitant of the island had perished. It wastherefore more for the traces of a dead than of a living man that Pencroftand his companions searched. But their searches were vain, and during thehalf of that day they sought to no purpose among the thickets of treeswhich covered the islet. There was then scarcely any doubt that, if thecastaway was dead, no trace of his body now remained, but that some wildbeast had probably devoured it to the last bone.

　　"We will set off to-morrow at daybreak," said Pencroft to his twocompanions, as about two o'clock they were resting for a few minutes underthe shade of a clump of firs.

　　"I should think that we might without scruple take the utensils whichbelonged to the castaway," added Herbert.

　　"I think so, too," returned Gideon Spilett, "and these arms and toolswill make up the stores of Granite House. The supply of powder and shot isalso most important."

　　"Yes," replied Pencroft, "but we must not forget to capture a couple ortwo of those pigs, of which Lincoln Island is destitute."

　　"Nor to gather those seeds," added Herbert, "which will give us all thevegetables of the Old and the New Worlds."

　　"Then perhaps it would be best," said the reporter, "to remain a daylonger on Tabor Island, so as to collect all that may be useful to us."

　　"No, Mr. Spilett," answered Pencroft, "I will ask you to set off to-morrowat daybreak. The wind seems to me to be likely to shift to the west, andafter having had a fair wind for coming we shall have a fair wind forgoing back."

　　"Then do not let us lose time," said Herbert, rising.

　　"We won't waste time," returned Pencroft. "You, Herbert, go and gatherthe seeds, which you know better than we do. While you do that, Mr. Spilettand I will go and have a pig hunt, and even without Top I hope we shallmanage to catch a few!"

　　Herbert accordingly took the path which led towards the cultivated partof the islet, while the sailor and the reporter entered the forest.

　　Many specimens of the porcine race fled before them, and these animals,which were singularly active, did not appear to be in a humor to allowthemselves to be approached.

　　However, after an hour's chase, the hunters had just managed to get holdof a couple lying in a thicket, when cries were heard resounding from thenorth part of the island, With the cries were mingled terrible yells, inwhich there was nothing human.

　　Pencroft and Gideon Spilett were at once on their feet, and the pigs bythis movement began to run away, at the moment when the sailor was gettingready the rope to bind them.

　　"That's Herbert's voice," said the reporter.

　　"Run!" exclaimed Pencroft.

　　And the sailor and Spilett immediately ran at full speed towards the spotfrom whence the cries proceeded.

　　They did well to hasten, for at a turn of the path near a clearing theysaw the lad thrown on the ground and in the grasp of a savage being,apparently a gigantic ape, who was about to do him some great harm.

　　To rush on this monster, throw him on the ground in his turn, snatchHerbert from him, then bind him securely, was the work of a minute forPencroft and Gideon Spilett. The sailor was of Herculean strength, thereporter also very powerful, and in spite of the monster's resistance hewas firmly tied so that he could not even move.

　　"You are not hurt, Herbert?" asked Spilett.

　　"No, no!"

　　"Oh, if this ape had wounded him!" exclaimed Pencroft.

　　"But he is not an ape," answered Herbert.

　　At these words Pencroft and Gideon Spilett looked at the singular beingwho lay on the ground. Indeed it was not an ape; it was a human being, aman. But what a man! A savage in all the horrible acceptation of the word,and so much the more frightful that he seemed fallen to the lowest degreeof brutishness!

　　Shaggy hair, untrimmed beard descending to the chest, the body almostnaked except a rag round the waist, wild eyes, enormous hands withimmensely long nails, skin the color of mahogany, feet as hard as if madeof horn, such was the miserable creature who yet had a claim to be called aman. But it might justly be asked if there were yet a soul in this body, orif the brute instinct alone survived in it!

　　"Are you quite sure that this is a man, or that he has ever been one?"said Pencroft to the reporter.

　　"Alas! there is no doubt about it," replied Spilett.

　　"Then this must be the castaway?" asked Herbert.

　　"Yes," replied Gideon Spilett, "but the unfortunate man has no longeranything human about him!"

　　The reporter spoke the truth. It was evident that if the castaway had everbeen a civilized being, solitude had made him asavage, or worse, perhaps a regular man of the woods. Hoarsesounds issued from his throat between his teeth, which weresharp as the teeth of a wild beast made to tear raw flesh.

　　Memory must have deserted him long before, and for a long time also hehad forgotten how to use his gun and tools, and he no longer knew how tomake a fire! It could be seen that he was active and powerful, but thephysical qualities had been developed in him to the injury of the moralqualities. Gideon Spilett spoke to him. He did not appear to understand oreven to hear. And yet on looking into his eyes, the reporter thought hecould see that all reason was not extinguished in him. However, theprisoner did not struggle, nor even attempt to break his bonds. Was heoverwhelmed by the presence of men whose fellow he had once been? Had hefound in some corner of his brain a fleeting remembrance which recalled himto humanity? If free, would he attempt to fly, or would he remain? Theycould not tell, but they did not make the experiment; and after gazingattentively at the miserable creature,--

　　"Whoever he may be," remarked Gideon Spilett, "whoever he may have been,and whatever he may become, it is our duty to take him with us to LincolnIsland."

　　"Yes, yes!" replied Herbert, "and perhaps with care we may arouse in himsame gleam of intelligence."

　　"The soul does not die," said the reporter, "and it would be a greatsatisfaction to rescue one of God's creatures from brutishness."

　　Pencroft shook his head doubtfully.

　　"We must try at any rate," returned the reporter; "humanity commands us."

　　It was indeed their duty as Christians and civilized beings. All threefelt this, and they well knew that Cyrus Harding would approve of theiracting thus.

　　"Shall we leave him bound?" asked the sailor.

　　"Perhaps he would walk if his feet were unfastened," said Herbert.

　　"Let us try," replied Pencroft.

　　The cords which shackled the prisoner's feet were cut off, but his armsremained securely fastened. He got up by himself and did not manifest anydesire to run away. His hard eyes darted a piercing glance at the threemen, who walked near him, but nothing denoted that he recollected beingtheir fellow, or at least having been so. A continual hissing sound issuedfrom his lips, his aspect was wild, but he did not attempt to resist.

　　By the reporter's advice the unfortunate man was taken to the hut.Perhaps the sight of the things that belonged to him would make someimpression on him! Perhaps a spark would be sufficient to revive hisobscured intellect, to rekindle his dulled soul. The dwelling was not faroff. In a few minutes they arrived there, but the prisoner rememberednothing, and it appeared that he had lost consciousness of everything.

　　What could they think of the degree of brutishness into which thismiserable being had fallen, unless that his imprisonment on the islet datedfrom a very distant period and after having arrived there a rational beingsolitude had reduced him to this condition.

　　The reporter then thought that perhaps the sight of fire would have someeffect on him, and in a moment one of those beautiful flames, that attracteven animals, blazed up on the hearth. The sight of the flame seemed atfirst to fix the attention of the unhappy object, but soon he turned awayand the look of intelligence faded. Evidently there was nothing to be done,for the time at least, but to take him on board the "Bonadventure." Thiswas done, and he remained there in Pencroft's charge.

　　Herbert and Spilett returned to finish their work; and some hours afterthey came back to the shore, carrying the utensils and guns, a store ofvegetables, of seeds, some game, and two couple of pigs.

　　All was embarked, and the "Bonadventure" was ready to weigh anchor andsail with the morning tide.

　　The prisoner had been placed in the fore-cabin, where he remained quiet,silent, apparently deaf and dumb.

　　Pencroft offered him something to eat, but he pushed away the cooked meatthat was presented to him and which doubtless did not suit him. But on thesailor showing him one of the ducks which Herbert had killed, he pounced onit like a wild beast, and devoured it greedily.

　　"You think that he will recover his senses?" asked Pencroft. "It is notimpossible that our care will have an effect upon him, for it is solitudethat has made him what he is, and from this time forward he will be nolonger alone."

　　"The poor man must no doubt have been in this state for a long time,"said Herbert.

　　"Perhaps," answered Gideon Spilett.

　　"About what age is he?" asked the lad.

　　"It is difficult to say," replied the reporter, "for it is impossible tosee his features under the thick beard which covers his face, but he is nolonger young, and I suppose he might be about fifty."

　　"Have you noticed, Mr. Spilett, how deeply sunk his eyes are?" askedHerbert.

　　"Yes, Herbert, but I must add that they are more human than one couldexpect from his appearance."

　　"However, we shall see," replied Pencroft, "and I am anxious to know whatopinion Captain Harding will have of our savage. We went to look for ahuman creature, and we are bringing back a monster! After all, we did whatwe could."

　　The night passed, and whether the prisoner slept or not could not beknown, but at any rate, although he had been unbound, he did not move. Hewas like a wild animal, which appears stunned at first by its capture, andbecomes wild again afterwards.

　　At daybreak the next morning, the 15th of October, the change of weatherpredicted by Pencroft occurred. The wind having shifted to the northwestfavored the return of the "Bonadventure," but at the same time itfreshened, which might render navigation more difficult.

　　At five o'clock in the morning the anchor was weighed. Pencroft took areef in the mainsail, and steered towards the north-east, so as to sailstraight for Lincoln Island.

　　The first day of the voyage was not marked by any incident. The prisonerremained quiet in the fore-cabin, and as he had been a sailor it appearedthat the motion of the vessel might produce on him a salutary reaction. Didsome recollection of his former calling return to him? However that mightbe, he remained tranquil, astonished rather than depressed.

　　The next day the wind increased, blowing more from the north,consequently in a less favorable direction for the "Bonadventure." Pencroftwas soon obliged to sail close-hauled, and without saying anything about ithe began to be uneasy at the state of the sea, which frequently broke overthe bows. Certainly, if the wind did not moderate, it would take a longertime to reach Lincoln Island than it had taken to make Tabor Island.

　　Indeed, on the morning of the 17th, the "Bonadventure" had been forty-eight hours at sea, and nothing showed that she was near the island. It wasimpossible, besides, to estimate the distance traversed, or to trust to thereckoning for the direction, as the speed had been very irregular.

　　Twenty-four hours after there was yet no land in sight. The wind wasright ahead and the sea very heavy. The sails were close-reefed, and theytacked frequently. On the 18th, a wave swept completely over the"Bonadventure"; and if the crew had not taken the precaution of lashingthemselves to the deck, they would have been carried away.

　　On this occasion Pencroft and his companions, who were occupied withloosing themselves, received unexpected aid from the prisoner, who emergedfrom the hatchway as if his sailor's instinct had suddenly returned, brokea piece out of the bulwarks with a spar so as to let the water which filledthe deck escape. Then the vessel being clear, he descended to his cabinwithout having uttered a word. Pencroft, Gideon Spilett, and Herbert,greatly astonished, let him proceed.

　　Their situation was truly serious, and the sailor had reason to fear thathe was lost on the wide sea without any possibility of recovering hiscourse.

　　The night was dark and cold. However, about eleven o'clock, the windfell, the sea went down, and the speed of the vessel, as she labored less,greatly increased.

　　Neither Pencroft, Spilett, nor Herbert thought of taking an hour's sleep.They kept a sharp look-out, for either Lincoln Island could not be fardistant and would be sighted at daybreak, or the "Bonadventure," carriedaway by currents, had drifted so much that it would be impossible torectify her course. Pencroft, uneasy to the last degree, yet did notdespair, for he had a gallant heart, and grasping the tiller he anxiouslyendeavored to pierce the darkness which surrounded them.

　　About two o'clock in the morning he started forward,--

　　"A light! a light!" he shouted.

　　Indeed, a bright light appeared twenty miles to the northeast. LincolnIsland was there, and this fire, evidently lighted by Cyrus Harding, showedthem the course to be followed. Pencroft, who was bearing too much to thenorth, altered his course and steered towards the fire, which burnedbrightly above the horizon like a star of the first magnitude.