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

themselves, and on the 3rd of May, Neb looking from his kitchen shouted that the whale was aground on the island.

Herbert and Spilett, who were about starting on a hunt, laid aside their guns, Pencroff dropped his hatchet, and Smith and Neb, joining their companions, hurried down to the shore. It had grounded on Jetsam Point at high water, and it was not likely that the monster would be able to get off easily; but they must hasten in order to cut off its retreat if necessary. So seizing some picks and spears they ran across the bridge, down the Mercy and along the shore, and in less than twenty minutes the party were beside the huge animal, above whom myriads of birds were already hovering.

“What a monster!” exclaimed Neb.

And the term was proper, as it was one of the largest of the southern whales, measuring forty-five feet in length and weighing not less than 150,000 pounds.

Meantime the animal, although the tide was still high, made no effort to get off the shore, and the reason for this was explained later when at low water the colonists walked around its body.

It was dead, and a harpoon protruded from its left flank.

“Are there whalers in our neighborhood?” asked Spilett.

“Why do you ask?”

“Since the harpoon is still there⁠—”

“Oh that proves nothing, sir,” said Pencroff. “Whales sometimes go thousands of miles with a harpoon in them, and I should not be surprised if this one which came to die here had been struck in the North Atlantic.”

“Nevertheless⁠—” began Spilett, not satisfied with Pencroff’s affirmation.

“It is perfectly possible,” responded the engineer, “but let us look at the harpoon. Probably it will have the name of the ship on it.”

Pencroff drew out the harpoon, and read this inscription:⁠—

Maria-Stella

Vineyard

“A ship from the Vineyard! A ship of my country!” he cried. “The Maria-Stella! a good whaler! and I know her well! Oh, my friends, a ship from the Vineyard! A whaler from the Vineyard!”

And the sailor, brandishing the harpoon, continued to repeat that name dear to his heart, the name of his birthplace.

But as they could not wait for the Maria-Stella to come and reclaim their prize, the colonists resolved to cut it up before decomposition set in. The birds of prey were already anxious to become possessors of the spoil, and it was necessary to drive them away with gunshots.

The whale was a female, and her udders furnished a great quantity of milk, which, according to Dieffenbach, resembles in taste, color, and density, the milk of cows.

As Pencroff had served on a whaler he was able to direct the disagreeable work of cutting up the animal⁠—an operation which lasted during three days. The blubber, cut in strips two feet and a half thick and divided into pieces weighing a thousand pounds each, was melted down in large earthen vats, which had been brought on to the ground. And such was its abundance, that notwithstanding a third of its weight was lost by melting, the tongue alone yielded 6,000 pounds of oil. The colonists were therefore supplied with an abundant supply of stearine and glycerine, and there was, besides, the whalebone, which would find its use, although there were neither umbrellas nor corsets in Granite House.

The operation ended, to the great satisfaction of the colonists, the rest of the animal was left to the birds, who made away with it to the last vestiges, and the daily routine of work was resumed. Still, before going to the shipyard, Smith worked on certain affairs which excited the curiosity of his companions. He took a dozen of the plates of baleen (the solid whalebone), which he cut into six equal lengths, sharpened at the ends.

“And what is that for?” asked Herbert, when they were finished.

“To kill foxes, wolves, and jaguars,” answered the engineer.

“Now?”

“No, but this winter, when we have the ice.”

“I don’t understand,” answered Herbert.

“You shall understand, my lad,” answered the engineer. “This is not my invention; it is frequently employed by the inhabitants of the Aleutian islands. These whalebones which you see, when the weather is freezing I will bend round and freeze in that position with a coating of ice; then having covered them with a bit of fat, I will place them in the snow. Supposing a hungry animal swallows one of these baits? The warmth will thaw the ice, and the whalebone, springing back, will pierce the stomach.”

“That is ingenious!” said Pencroff.

“And it will save powder and ball,” said Smith.

“It will be better than the traps.”

“Just wait till winter comes.”

The shipbuilding continued, and towards the end of the month the little vessel was half-finished. Pencroff worked almost too hard, but his companions were secretly preparing a recompense for all his toil, and the 31st of May was destined to be one of the happiest times in his life.

After dinner on that day, just as he was leaving table, Pencroff felt a hand on his shoulder and heard Spilett saying to him:⁠—

“Don’t go yet awhile, Pencroff. You forget the dessert.”

“Thank you, Spilett, but I must get back to work.”

“Oh, well, have a cup of coffee.”

“Not any.”

“Well, then, a pipe?”

Pencroff started up quickly, and when he saw the reporter holding him a pipe full of tobacco, and Herbert with a light, his honest, homely face grew pale, and he could not say a word; but taking the pipe, he placed it to his lips, lit it, and drew five or six long puffs, one after the other.

A fragrant, blueish-colored smoke filled the air, and from the depths of this cloud came a voice, delirious with joy, repeating,

“Tobacco! real tobacco!”

“Yes, Pencroff,” answered Smith, “and good tobacco at that.”

“Heaven be praised!” ejaculated the sailor. “Nothing now is wanting in our island.” And he puffed and puffed and puffed.

“Who found it?” he asked, at length. “It was you, Herbert, I suppose?”

“No, Pencroff, it was Mr. Spilett.”

“Mr. Spilett!” cried the sailor, hugging the reporter, who had never been treated that way before.

“Yes, Pencroff,”⁠—taking advantage of a cessation in the embrace