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

within five points of the wind, and that she made but little leeway. She sailed very well, also, before the wind, minding her helm perfectly, and gained even in going about.

The passengers were enchanted. They had a good boat, which, in case of need, could render them great service, and in this splendid weather, with the fair wind, the sail was delightful. Pencroff stood out to sea two or three miles, opposite Balloon Harbor, and then the whole varied panorama of the island from Claw Cape to Reptile Promontory was visible under a new aspect. In the foreground were the pine forests, contrasting with the foliage of the other trees, and over all rose Mt. Franklin, its head white with snow.

“How beautiful it is!” exclaimed Herbert.

“Yes, she is a pretty creature,” responded Pencroff. “I love her as a mother. She received us poor and needy, and what has she denied to these five children who tumbled upon her out of the sky?”

“Nothing, captain, nothing,” answered Neb. And the two honest fellows gave three hearty cheers in honor of their island.

Meantime, Spilett, seated by the mast, sketched the panorama before him, while Smith looked on in silence.

“What do you say of our boat, now, sir?” demanded Pencroff.

“It acts very well,” replied the engineer.

“Good. And now don’t you think it could undertake a voyage of some length?”

“Where, Pencroff?”

“To Tabor Island, for instance.”

“My friend,” replied the engineer, “I believe that in a case of necessity there need be no hesitancy in trusting to the Good Luck even for a longer journey; but, you know, I would be sorry to see you leave for Tabor Island, because nothing obliges you to go.”

“One likes to know one’s neighbors,” answered Pencroff, whose mind was made up. “Tabor Island is our neighbor, and is all alone. Politeness requires that at least we make her a visit.”

“The mischief!” exclaimed Spilett, “our friend Pencroff is a stickler for propriety.”

“I am not a stickler at all,” retorted the sailor, who was a little vexed by the engineer’s opposition.

“Remember, Pencroff,” said Smith, “that you could not go the island alone.”

“One other would be all I would want.”

“Supposing so,” replied the engineer, “would you risk depriving our colony of five, of two of its colonists?”

“There are six,” rejoined Pencroff. “You forget Jup.”

“There are seven,” added Neb. “Top is as good as another.”

“There is no risk in it, Mr. Smith,” said Pencroff again.

“Possibly not, Pencroff; but, I repeat, that it is exposing oneself without necessity.”

The obstinate sailor did not answer, but let the conversation drop for the present. He little thought that an incident was about to aid him, and change to a work of humanity what had been merely a caprice open to discussion.

The Good Luck, after having stood out to sea, was returning towards the coast and making for Balloon Harbor, as it was important to locate the channel-way between the shoals and reefs so as to buoy them, for this little inlet was to be resting place of the sloop.

They were half a mile off shore, beating up to windward and moving somewhat slowly, as the boat was under the lee of the land. The sea was as smooth as glass. Herbert was standing in the bows indicating the channel-way. Suddenly he cried:⁠—

“Luff, Pencroff, luff.”

“What is it?” cried the sailor, springing to his feet. “A rock?”

“No⁠—hold on, I cannot see very well⁠—luff again⁠—steady⁠—bear away a little⁠—” and while thus speaking, the lad lay down along the deck, plunged his arm quickly into the water, and then rising up again with something in his hand, exclaimed:⁠—

“It is a bottle!”

Smith took it, and without saying a word, withdrew the cork and took out a wet paper, on which was written these words:⁠—

“A shipwrecked man⁠—Tabor Island:⁠—153° W. lon.⁠—37° 11′ S. lat.”

XXXV

Departure decided upon⁠—Preparations⁠—The three passengers⁠—The first night⁠—The second night⁠—Tabor Island⁠—Search on the shore⁠—Search in the woods⁠—No one⁠—Animals⁠—Plants⁠—A house⁠—Deserted.

“Someone shipwrecked!” cried Pencroff, “abandoned some hundred miles from us upon Tabor Island! Oh! Mr. Smith, you will no longer oppose my project!”

“No, Pencroff, and you must leave as soon as possible.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

The engineer held the paper which he had taken from the bottle in his hand. He considered for a few moments, and then spoke:⁠—

“From this paper, my friends,” said he, “and from the manner in which it is worded, we must conclude that, in the first place, the person cast away upon Tabor Island is a man well informed, since he gives the latitude and longitude of his island exactly; secondly, that he is English or American, since the paper is written in English.”

“That is a logical conclusion,” answered Spilett, “and the presence of this person explains the arrival of the box on our coast. There has been a shipwreck, since someone has been shipwrecked. And he is fortunate in that Pencroff had the idea of building this boat and even of trying it today, for in twenty-four hours the bottle would have been broken on the rocks.”

“Indeed!” said Herbert, “it is a happy chance that the Good Luck passed by the very spot where this bottle was floating.”

“Don’t it seem to you odd?” asked Smith of Pencroff.

“It seems fortunate, that’s all,” replied the sailor. “Do you see anything extraordinary in it, sir? This bottle must have gone somewhere, and why not here as well as anywhere else?”

“Perhaps you are right, Pencroff,” responded the engineer, “and nevertheless⁠—”

“But,” interrupted Herbert, “nothing proves that this bottle has floated in the water for a long time.”

“Nothing,” responded Spilett, “and moreover the paper seems to have been recently written. What do you think, Cyrus?”

“It is hard to decide,” answered Smith.

Meanwhile Pencroff had not been idle. He had gone about, and the Good Luck, with a free wind, all her sails drawing, was speeding toward Claw Cape. Each one thought of the castaway on Tabor Island. Was there still time to save him? This was a great event in the lives of the colonists. They too were but castaways, but it