The Mysterious Island by Jules Verne (rosie project txt) 📕

For two hours Smith and his companions were wholly occupied with hauling the spars up on the sands, and in unfurling the sails, which were entirely uninjured, and spreading them out to dry. The work was so absorbing that they talked but little; but they had time for thought. What a fortune was the possession of the brig, or rather of the brig’s contents! A ship is a miniature world, and the colonists could add to their stock a host of useful articles. It was a repetition, on a large scale, of the chest found on Jetsam Point.

“Moreover,” thought Pencroff, “why should it be impossible to get this brig afloat? If she has only one leak, a leak can be stopped up, and a ship of 300 or 400 tons is a real ship compared to our Good Luck! We would go where we pleased in her. We must look into this matter. It is well worth the trouble.”

In fact, if the brig could be repaired, their chance of getting home again would be very much greater. But in order to decide this important question, they must wait until the tide was at its lowest, so that the brig’s hull could be examined in every part.

After their prizes had been secured upon the beach, Smith and his companions, who were nearly famished, allowed themselves a few minutes for breakfast. Fortunately the kitchen was not far off, and Neb could cook them a good breakfast in a jiffy. They took this meal at the Chimneys, and one can well suppose that they talked of nothing during the repast but the miraculous deliverance of the colony.

“Miraculous is the word,” repeated Pencroff, “for we must own that these blackguards were blown up just in time! Granite House was becoming rather uncomfortable.”

“Can you imagine, Pencroff, how it happened that the brig blew up?” asked the reporter.

“Certainly, Mr. Spilett; nothing is more simple,” replied Pencroff. “A pirate is not under the same discipline as a ship-of-war. Convicts don’t make sailors. The brig’s magazine must have been open, since she cannonaded us incessantly, and one awkward fellow might have blown up the ship.”

“Mr. Smith,” said Herbert, “what astonishes me is that this explosion did not produce more effect. The detonation was not loud, and the ship is very little broken up. She seems rather to have sunk than to have blown up.”

“That astonishes you, does it, my boy?” asked the engineer.

“Yes, sir.”

“And it astonishes me too, Herbert,” replied the engineer; “but when we examine the hull of the brig, we shall find some explanation of this mystery.”

“Why, Mr. Smith,” said Pencroff, “you don’t mean to say that the Speedy has just sunk like a ship which strikes upon a rock?”

“Why not,” asked Neb, “if there are rocks in the channel?”

“Good, Neb,” said Pencroff. “You did not look at the right minute. An instant before she went down I saw the brig rise on an enormous wave, and fall back over to larboard. Now, if she had struck a rock, she’d have gone straight to the bottom like an honest ship.”

“And that’s just what she is not,” said Neb.

“Well, we’ll soon find out, Pencroff,” said the engineer.

“We will find out,” added the sailor, “but I’ll bet my head there are no rocks in the channel. But do you really think, Mr. Smith, that there is anything wonderful in this event?”

Smith did not answer.

“At all events,” said Spilett, “whether shock or explosion, you must own, Pencroff, that it came in good time.”

“Yes! yes!” replied the sailor, “but that is not the question. I ask Mr. Smith if he sees anything supernatural in this affair?”

“I give no opinion, Pencroff,” said the engineer; a reply which was not satisfactory to Pencroff, who believed in the explosion theory, and was reluctant to give it up. He refused to believe that in the channel which he had crossed so often at low tide, and whose bottom was covered with sand as fine as that of the beach, there existed an unknown reef.

At about half-past 1, the colonists got into the canoe, and pulled out to the stranded brig. It was a pity that her two boats had not been saved; but one, they knew, had gone to pieces at the mouth of the Mercy, and was absolutely useless, and the other had gone down with the brig, and had never reappeared.

Just then the hull of the Speedy began to show itself above the water. The brig had turned almost upside down, for after having broken its masts under the weight of its ballast, displaced by the fall, it lay with its keel in the air. The colonists rowed all around the hull, and as the tide fell, they perceived, if not the cause of the catastrophe, at least the effect produced. In the fore part of the brig, on both sides of the hull, seven or eight feet before the beginning of the stem, the sides were fearfully shattered for at least twenty feet. There yawned two large leaks which it would have been impossible to stop. Not only had the copper sheathing and the planking disappeared, no doubt ground to powder, but there was not a trace of the timbers, the iron bolts, and the treenails which fastened them. The false-keel had been torn off with surprising violence, and the keel itself, torn from the carlines in several places, was broken its whole length.

“The deuce!” cried Pencroff, “here’s a ship which will be hard to set afloat.”

“Hard! It will be impossible,” said Ayrton.

“At all events,” said Spilett, “the explosion, if there has been an explosion, has produced the most remarkable effects. It has smashed the lower part of the hull, instead of blowing up the deck and the topsides. These great leaks seem rather to have been made by striking a reef than by the explosion of a magazine.”

“There’s not a reef in the channel,” answered the sailor. “I will admit anything but striking a reef.”

“Let us try to get into the hold,” said the engineer. “Perhaps that will help us to discover the cause of the disaster.”

This was the best course to take, and would moreover enable them to make an inventory of the treasures contained in the brig, and to get them ready for transportation to the island. Access to the hold was now easy; the tide continued to fall, and the lower deck, which, as the brig lay, was now uppermost, could easily be reached. The ballast, composed of heavy pigs of cast iron, had staved it in several places. They heard the roaring of the sea, as it rushed through the fissures of the hull.

Smith and his companions, axe in hand, walked along the shattered deck. All kinds of chests encumbered it, and as they had not been long under water, perhaps their contents had not been damaged.

They set to work at once to put this cargo in safety. The tide would not return for some hours, and these hours were utilized to the utmost at the opening into the hull. Ayrton and Pencroff had seized upon tackle which served to hoist the barrels and chests. The canoe received them, and took them ashore at once. They took everything indiscriminately, and left the sorting of their prizes to the future.

In any case, the colonists, to their extreme satisfaction, had made sure that the brig possessed a varied cargo, an assortment of all kinds of articles, utensils, manufactured products, and tools, such as ships are loaded with for the coasting trade of Polynesia. They would probably find there a little of everything, which was precisely what they needed on Lincoln Island.

Nevertheless, Smith noticed, in silent astonishment, that not only the hull of the brig had suffered frightfully from whatever shock it was which caused the catastrophe, but the machinery was destroyed, especially in the fore part. Partitions and stanchions were torn down as if some enormous shell had burst inside of the brig. The colonists, by piling on one side the boxes which littered their path, could easily go from stem to stern. They were not heavy bales which would have been difficult to handle, but mere packages thrown about in utter confusion.

The colonists soon reached that part of the stern where the poop formerly stood. It was here Ayrton told them they must search for the powder magazine. Smith, believing that this had not exploded, thought they might save some barrels, and that the powder, which is usually in metal cases, had not been damaged by the water. In fact, this was just what had happened. They found, among a quantity of projectiles, at least twenty barrels, which were lined with copper, and which they pulled out with great care. Pencroff was now convinced by his own eyes that the destruction of the Speedy could not have been caused by an explosion. The part of the hull in which the powder magazine was situated was precisely the part which had suffered the least.

“It may be so,” replied the obstinate sailor, “but as to a rock, there is not one in the channel.” Then he added:—”I know nothing about it, even Mr. Smith does not know. No one knows, or ever will.”

Several hours passed in these researches, and the tide was beginning to rise. They had to stop their work of salvage, but there was no fear that the wreck would be washed out to sea, for it was as solidly imbedded as if it had been anchored to the bottom. They could wait with impunity for the turn of the tide to commence operations. As to the ship itself, it was of no use; but they must hasten to save the debris of the hull, which would not take long to disappear in the shifting sands of the channel.

It was 5 o’clock in the afternoon. The day had been a hard one, and they sat down to their dinner with great appetite; but afterwards, notwithstanding their fatigue, they could not resist the desire of examining some of the chests. Most of them contained ready-made clothes, which, as may be imagined, were very welcome. There was enough to clothe a whole colony, linen of every description, boots of all sizes.

“Now we are too rich,” cried Pencroff. “What shall we do with all these things?”

Every moment the sailor uttered exclamations of joy, as he came upon barrels of molasses and rum, hogsheads of tobacco, muskets and side-arms, bales of cotton, agricultural implements, carpenters’ and smiths’ tools, and packages of seeds of every kind, uninjured by their short sojourn in the water. Two years before, how these things would have come in season! But even now that the industrious colonists were so well supplied, these riches would be put to use.

There was plenty of storage room in Granite House, but time failed them now to put everything in safety. They must not forget that six survivors of the Speedy’s crew were now on the island, scoundrels of the deepest dye, against whom they must be on their guard.

Although the bridge over the Mercy and the culverts had been raised, the convicts would make little account of a river or a brook; and, urged by despair, these rascals would be formidable. Later, the colonists could decide what course to take with regard to them; in the meantime, the chests and packages piled up near the Chimneys must be watched over, and to this they devoted themselves during the night.

The night passed, however, without any attack from the convicts. Master Jup and Top, of the Granite House guard, would have been quick to give notice.

The three days which followed, the 19th, 20th, and 21st of October, were employed in carrying on shore everything of value either in the cargo or in the rigging. At low tide they cleaned out the hold, and at high tide, stowed away their prizes. A great part of the copper