Читать книгу Таинственный остров / Mysterious Island - Жюль Верн, Жуль Верн - Страница 4

The engineer had been swept away by a wave. His dog had disappeared at the same time. The faithful animal tried to rescue its master.

“Forward!” cried the reporter, and all four, forgetting weakness and fatigue, began their search. Poor Neb wept with grief and despair. But Smith’s companions hoped to find him.

“Look for him!” cried Neb.

“Yes, Neb, and we will find him,” replied Spilett.

“Alive?”

“Alive!”

“Can he swim?” demanded Pencroff.

“Oh, yes”, responded Neb. “And, besides, Top is with him.”

The sailor, looking at the roaring sea, shook his head.

It was nearly 6 o’clock. The fog had risen and made the night very dark. The men went northward along the shore of that land upon which chance had thrown them. A land unknown, whose geographical situation they could not guess. They walked upon a sandy soil, mixed with stones. The little party was searching all the windings of the shore.

After a walk of twenty minutes the four men were suddenly stopped by a rock. They found themselves upon the extremity of a sharp point upon which the sea broke with fury.

“This is a promontory,” said the sailor, “we must turn back.”

“But if he is there!” cried Neb, pointing towards the ocean.

“Well, let us call again.”

And all together, uniting their voices, they uttered a vigorous cry, but without response. They waited, and tried once more. And again there was no answer.

Then they turned back, following the opposite side of the promontory over ground equally sandy and rocky. However, Pencroff observed that the shore was bold there, and the birds were less numerous.

But by following this direction they were walking towards the south, which was going away from that place where Smith had landed. Soon they found themselves again arrested by the sea, upon a high promontory of slippery rocks.

“We are on an island,” exclaimed Pencroff.

The words of the sailor were true. The castaways had been thrown, not upon a continent, but upon an island not more than two miles long.

This desert isle, covered with stones, without vegetation, desolate refuge of sea-birds, did it belong to a more important archipelago? They could not tell. It was necessary to wait until the next day to search for the engineer; who, alas! had made no cry to signal his presence.

“The silence of Cyrus proves nothing,” said the reporter. “He may be wounded, and unable to reply, but we will not despair.”

The reporter then offered to light a fire upon the point of the island, which would serve as a signal for the engineer. But they searched in vain for wood or dry branches. Sand and stones were all they found.

One can understand the grief of Neb and his companions, who were strongly attached to their comrade. It was too evident that they could not help him now, and that they must wait till day. Either the engineer had escaped, and was already safe upon the land, or he was lost forever. The hours were long and dreadful, the cold was intense. But the castaways did not think of sleep. They moved back and forth upon that arid island, constantly returning to the northern end, where they would be closest to the place of the catastrophe. They listened, they shouted, they tried to catch some call.

Once the cry of Neb was answered by an echo; and Herbert said:

“That proves that there is land not far to the west.”

The sailor nodded; he knew his eyes could not deceive him. He thought he had seen land, and it must be there. Meanwhile the sky was clearing slowly.

The night passed; and towards 5 o’clock in the morning the heavens began to brighten, though the horizon remained obscure.

“I feel the land,” said Pencroff, “it is there!”

The fog soon rose. A clear sun warmed the upper. At half past 6, the mist was nearly gone. The sea appeared, limitless towards the east, but bounded on the west by a high and abrupt coast.

Yes, the land was there! The island and the main land were separated by a channel half a mile wide. Into this current one of the party, without saying a word or consulting with his companions, precipitated himself. It was Neb. Pencroff called to him in vain. The reporter prepared to follow, but the sailor ran to him, exclaiming:

“Do you want to cross this channel?”

“Yes, I do,” replied Spilett.

“Well, then, listen to me a moment. Neb can rescue his master alone. If we throw ourselves into the channel we are in danger: this strong current can carry us out to sea by. You see the tide is going out. Wait, just wait a little.”

“You are right,” answered the reporter; “we will keep together as much as possible.”

Meantime, Neb was swimming vigorously in a diagonal direction, against the current. He was gaining towards the other shore. It took him more than half an hour to cross the half mile which separated the isle from the mainland.

Neb landed at the base of a high rocky wall, and clambered quickly up its side, and then disappeared behind a rock.

Neb’s companions fixed their eyes upon that land from which they were going to demand refuge. They ate some of the shellfish which they found upon the sands; it was a poor meal, but it was better than nothing.

The opposite coast formed an immense bay, terminated to the south by a sharp point. This point at its junction with the shore was abutted by high granite rocks. Towards the north, on the contrary, the bay widened, with a shore more rounded, extending from the southwest to the northeast, and ending in a narrow cape. Between these two points, the distance was about eight miles. A half mile from the shore the island, like an enormous whale, lay upon the sea. Its width was not greater than a quarter of a mile.

Before the Island, the shore began with a sandy beach strewn with black rocks. Beyond this rose, like a curtain, a perpendicular granite wall, at least 300 feet high and terminated by a ragged edge. This extended for about three miles, ending abruptly on the right, as if cut by the hand of man.

Upon the upper level of the coast not a tree was visible. To the right, however, and back of the smooth face of rock, some verdure appeared. Finally, distant towards the northwest about seven miles, shone a white summit, reflecting the sun’s rays. It was the snowy cap of some lofty mountain.

It was not possible to say whether this land was an island or a part of a continent. Gideon Spilett, Pencroff, and Herbert looked earnestly upon this land where they were to live, perhaps for long years.

“Well,” demanded Herbert, “what do you think of it, Pencroff?”

“Well,” replied the sailor, “there’s good and bad in it, as with everything else. But we will soon see. In three hours we can reach that shore, and we will see what we can do to find Mr. Smith.”

Pencroff was not wrong in his predictions. Three hours later, at low tide, Spilett and his two companions waded through the water, which was nowhere more than five feet deep. Herbert, where the water was too deep, swam like a fish; and all arrived without difficulty at the other shore.