The Mysterious Island by Jules Verne (uplifting books for women txt) 📕

report the discovery of any island not on the maps, and to do this he must pay it a visit.”

“Well,” said Pencroff, “suppose this ship casts anchor within a few cables’ length of our island, what shall we do?”

This downright question for a while remained unanswered. Then Smith, after reflection, said in his usual calm tone:⁠—

“What we must do, my friends, is this. We will open communication with the ship, take passage on board of her, and leave our island, after having taken possession of it in the name of the United States of America. Afterwards we will return with a band of permanent colonists, and endow our Republic with a useful station on the Pacific!”

“Good!” said Pencroff, “that will be a pretty big present to our country! We have really colonized it already. We have named every part of the island; there is a natural port, a supply of fresh water, roads, a line of telegraph, a wood yard, a foundry; we need only put the island on the maps!”

“But suppose someone else should occupy it while we are gone?” said Spilett.

“I would sooner stay here alone to guard it,” cried the sailor, “and, believe me, they would not steal it from me, like a watch from a gaby’s pocket!”

For the next hour, it was impossible to say whether or not the vessel was making for the island. She had drawn nearer, but Pencroff could not make out her course. Nevertheless, as the wind blew from the northeast, it seemed probable that she was on the starboard tack. Besides, the breeze blew straight for the landing, and the sea was so calm that she would not hesitate to steer for the island, though the soundings were not laid down in the charts.

About four o’clock, an hour after he had been telegraphed for, Ayrton arrived. He entered the great hall, saying, “Here I am, gentlemen.”

Smith shook hands with him, and drawing him to the window, “Ayrton,” said he, “we sent for you for a weighty reason. A ship is within sight of the island.”

For a moment Ayrton looked pale, and his eyes were troubled. Then he stooped down and gazed around the horizon.

“Take this spyglass,” said Spilett, “and look well, Ayrton, for it may be the Duncan come to take you home.”

“The Duncan!” murmured Ayrton. “Already!”

The last word escaped him involuntarily and he buried his face in his hands. Did not twelve years’ abandonment on a desert island seem to him a sufficient expiation?

“No,” said he, “no, it cannot be the Duncan.”

“Look, Ayrton,” said the engineer, “for we must know beforehand with whom we have to deal.”

Ayrton took the glass and levelled it in the direction indicated. For some minutes he observed the horizon in silence. Then he said:⁠—

“Yes, it is a ship, but I do not think it is the Duncan.”

“Why not?” asked Spilett.

“Because the Duncan is a steam-yacht, and I see no trace of smoke about this vessel.”

“Perhaps she is only under sail,” observed Pencroff. “The wind is behind her, and she may want to save her coal, being so far from land.”

“You may be right, Mr. Pencroff,” said Ayrton. “But, let her come in shore, and we shall soon know what to make of her.”

So saying, he sat down in a corner and remained silent, taking no part in the noisy discussion about the unknown ship. No more work was done. Spilett and Pencroff were extremely nervous; they walked up and down, changing place every minute. Herbert’s feeling was one of curiosity. Neb alone remained calm; his master was his country. The engineer was absorbed in his thoughts, and was inclined to believe the ship rather an enemy than a friend. By the help of the glass they could make out that she was a brig, and not one of those Malay proas, used by the pirates of the Pacific. Pencroff, after a careful look, affirmed that the ship was square-rigged, and was running obliquely to the coast, on the starboard tack, under mainsail, topsail, and topgallant sail set.

Just then the ship changed her tack, and drove straight towards the island. She was a good sailer, and rapidly neared the coast. Ayrton took the glass to try to ascertain whether or not she was the Duncan. The Scotch yacht, too, was square-rigged. The question therefore was whether a smokestack could be seen between the two masts of the approaching vessel. She was now only ten miles off, and the horizon was clear. Ayrton looked for a moment, and then dropped his glass.

“It is not the Duncan,” said he.

Pencroff sighted the brig again, and made out that she was from 300 to 400 tons burden, and admirably built for sailing. To what nation she belonged no one could tell.

“And yet,” added the sailor, “there’s a flag floating at her peak, but I can’t make out her colors.”

“In half an hour we will know for certain,” answered the reporter. “Besides, it is evident that their captain means to run in shore, and today, or tomorrow at latest, we shall make her acquaintance.”

“No matter,” said Pencroff, “we ought to know with whom we have to deal, and I shall be glad to make out those colors.”

And he kept the glass steadily at his eye. The daylight began to fail, and the sea-wind dropped with it. The brig’s flag wrapped itself around the tackle, and could hardly be seen.

“It is not the American flag,” said Pencroff, at intervals, “nor the English, whose red would be very conspicuous, nor the French, nor German colors, nor the white flag of Russia, nor the yellow flag of Spain. It seems to be of one solid color. Let us see; what would most likely be found in these waters? The Chilean⁠—no, that flag is tri-colored; the Brazilian is green; the Japanese is black and yellow; while this⁠—”

Just then a breeze struck the flag. Ayrton took the glass and raised it to his eyes.

“Black!” cried he, in a hollow voice.

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