The Mysterious Island | Page 9

also
less tumultuous, and they observed that the agitation of the waves was
diminished. The noise of the surf was scarcely heard. This side of the
promontory evidently formed a semicircular bay, which the sharp point
sheltered from the breakers of the open sea. But to follow this direction
was to go south, exactly opposite to that part of the coast where
Harding might have landed. After a walk of a mile and a half, the shore

presented no curve which would permit them to return to the north.
This promontory, of which they had turned the point, must be attached
to the mainland. The castaways, although their strength was nearly
exhausted, still marched courageously forward, hoping every moment
to meet with a sudden angle which would set them in the first direction.
What was their disappointment, when, after trudging nearly two miles,
having reached an elevated point composed of slippery rocks, they
found themselves again stopped by the sea.
"We are on an islet," said Pencroft, "and we have surveyed it from one
extremity to the other."
The sailor was right; they had been thrown, not on a continent, not even
on an island, but on an islet which was not more than two miles in
length, with even a less breadth.
Was this barren spot the desolate refuge of sea-birds, strewn with
stones and destitute of vegetation, attached to a more important
archipelago? It was impossible to say. When the voyagers from their
car saw the land through the mist, they had not been able to reconnoiter
it sufficiently. However, Pencroft, accustomed with his sailor eyes to
piece through the gloom, was almost certain that he could clearly
distinguish in the west confused masses which indicated an elevated
coast. But they could not in the dark determine whether it was a single
island, or connected with others. They could not leave it either, as the
sea surrounded them; they must therefore put off till the next day their
search for the engineer, from whom, alas! not a single cry had reached
them to show that he was still in existence.
"The silence of our friend proves nothing," said the reporter. "Perhaps
he has fainted or is wounded, and unable to reply directly, so we will
not despair."
The reporter then proposed to light a fire on a point of the islet, which
would serve as a signal to the engineer. But they searched in vain for
wood or dry brambles; nothing but sand and stones were to be found.
The grief of Neb and his companions, who were all strongly attached to
the intrepid Harding, can be better pictured than described. It was too

evident that they were powerless to help him. They must wait with
what patience they could for daylight. Either the engineer had been able
to save himself, and had already found a refuge on some point of the
coast, or he was lost for ever! The long and painful hours passed by.
The cold was intense. The castaways suffered cruelly, but they scarcely
perceived it. They did not even think of taking a minute's rest.
Forgetting everything but their chief, hoping or wishing to hope on,
they continued to walk up and down on this sterile spot, always
returning to its northern point, where they could approach nearest to the
scene of the catastrophe. They listened, they called, and then uniting
their voices, they endeavored to raise even a louder shout than before,
which would be transmitted to a great distance. The wind had now
fallen almost to a calm, and the noise of the sea began also to subside.
One of Neb's shouts even appeared to produce an echo. Herbert
directed Pencroft's attention to it, adding, "That proves that there is a
coast to the west, at no great distance." The sailor nodded; besides, his
eyes could not deceive him. If he had discovered land, however
indistinct it might appear, land was sure to be there. But that distant
echo was the only response produced by Neb's shouts, while a heavy
gloom hung over all the part east of the island.
Meanwhile, the sky was clearing little by little. Towards midnight the
stars shone out, and if the engineer had been there with his companions
he would have remarked that these stars did not belong to the Northern
Hemisphere. The Polar Star was not visible, the constellations were not
those which they had been accustomed to see in the United States; the
Southern Cross glittered brightly in the sky.
The night passed away. Towards five o'clock in the morning of the 25th
of March, the sky began to lighten; the horizon still remained dark, but
with daybreak a thick mist rose from the sea, so that the eye could
scarcely penetrate beyond twenty feet or