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

Then the engineer assembled his companions, and told them that Lincoln Island was in fearful danger—a danger which no human power could prevent.

“My friends,” said he,—and his voice betrayed great emotion,—“Lincoln Island is doomed to destruction sooner or later; the cause is in itself and there is no means of removing it!”

The colonists looked at each other. They did not understand him.

“Explain yourself, Cyrus,” said Spilett.

“I will, or rather I will give you the explanation which Captain Nemo gave me, when I was alone with him.”

“Captain Nemo!” cried the colonists.

“Yes; it was the last service he rendered us before he died.”

“The last service!” cried Pencroff. “The last service! You think, because he is dead, that he will help us no more!”

“What did he say?” asked the reporter.

“This, my friends,” answered the engineer. “Lincoln Island is not like the other islands of the Pacific, and a particular event, made known to me by Captain Nemo, will cause, sooner or later, the destruction of its submarine framework.”

“Destruction of Lincoln Island! What an idea!” cried Pencroff, who, in spite of his respect for Smith, could not help shrugging his shoulders.

“Listen to me, Pencroff,” continued the engineer. “This is what Captain Nemo ascertained and what I verified yesterday In Crypt Dakkar. The crypt extends under the island as far as the volcano, and is only separated from the central chimney by the wall. Now this wall is seamed with fractures and cracks, through which the sulphurous gas is already escaping.”

“Well?” asked Pencroff, wrinkling his forehead.

“Well, I have ascertained that these fractures are widening under the pressure from within, that the basalt wall la gradually bursting open, and that, sooner or later, it will give a passage to the waters of the sea.”

“That’s all right!” exclaimed Pencroff, trying still to make light of the subject. “That’s all right! The sea will put out the volcano, and that will be the end of it.”

“Yes, that will be the end of it!” answered Smith. “On the day that the sea rushes through the wall and penetrates by the central chimney to the bowels of the island, where the eruptive matter is boiling, on that day, Pencroff, Lincoln Island will go up, as Sicily would go up, if the Mediterranean was emptied into Aetna!”

The colonists made no reply. They understood the threatened danger.

It was no longer doubtful that the island was menaced by a frightful explosion. That it would last only as long as the wall to Crypt Dakkar remained intact. This was not a question of months, nor of weeks, bat of days, of hours, perhaps!

The first sensation the colonists experienced was one of profound sorrow. They did not think of the peril which menaced them directly, but of the destruction of that land which had given them asylum, of that island which they had cultivated, which they loved, which they wished to render so prosperous some day! All their labor uselessly employed, all their work lost!

Pencroff did not attempt to hide the tears which rolled down his cheeks.

They talked for some little time longer. The chances which they might count upon were discussed; but, in conclusion, they realized that not an hour was to be lost; that the ship must be completed as soon as possible, as, now, it was the only chance of safety left, to the inhabitants of Lincoln Island!

All hands were required. Where was the use, now, of sowing, or harvesting, of hunting or increasing the reserve at Granite House? The present contents of the magazine were sufficient to provision the ship for as long a voyage as she could make! What was necessary was that these should be at

the disposal of the colonists before the accomplishment of the inevitable catastrophe.

The work was undertaken with feverish eagerness. By the 23d of January the ship was half planked. Up to this time there had been no change in the volcano. It was always the vapors, the smoke mixed with flames and pierced by incandescent stones, which escaped from the crater. But during the night of the 23d the upper cone, which formed the cap of the volcano, was lifted off by the pressure of the lava, which had reached the level of the lower cone. A terrible noise was heard. The colonists, believing that the island was going to pieces, rushed out of Granite House.

It was 2 o’clock in the morning. The heavens were on fire. The upper cone—a mass a thousand feet high, and weighing thousands of millions of pounds—had been thrown upon the island, making the earth tremble. Happily, this cone leaned to the north, and it fell upon the plain of sand and tufa which lay between the volcano and the sea. The crater, by this means greatly widened, threw towards the sky a light so intense, that, by the simple effect of reverberation, the atmosphere seemed to be incandescent. At the same time a torrent of lava swelled up over this new summit, falling in long streams, like water escaping from an overflowing vase, and a thousand fiery serpents writhed upon the talus of the volcano.

“The corral! The corral!” cried Ayrton.

It was, indeed, towards the corral that the lava took their way, following the slope of the new crater, and, consequently, the fertile parts of the island. The sources of Red Creek, and Jacamar Wood were threatened with immediate destruction.

At the cry of Ayrton, the colonists had rushed towards the stable of the onagers, and harnessed the animals. All had but one thought. To fly to the corral and let loose the beasts confined there.

Before 3 o’clock they were there. Frightful cries indicated the terror of the moufflons and goats. Already a torrent of incandescent matter, of liquified minerals, fell over the mountain spur upon the plain, destroying that side of the palisade. The gate was hastily opened by Ayrton, and the animals, wild with terror, escaped in every direction.

An hour later the boiling lava filled the corral, volatilizing the water of the little brook which traversed it, firing the house, which burned like a bit of stubble, devouring to the last stake the surrounding palisade. Nothing was left of the corral.

The colonists wanted to struggle against this invasion; they had tried it, but foolishly and uselessly: man is helpless before these grand cataclysms.

The morning of the 24th arrived. Smith and his companions, before returning to Granite House, wished to observe the definite direction which this inundation of lava would take. The general slope of the ground from Mount Franklin was towards the east coast, and it was to be feared that, notwithstanding the thick Jacamar Woods, the torrent would extend to Prospect Plateau.

“The lake will protect us,” said Spilett.

“I hope so,” answered Smith. But that was all he said.

The colonists would have liked to have advanced as far as the place on which the upper cone of Mount Franklin abutted, but their passage was barred by the lavas, which followed, on the one hand, the valley of Red Creek, and, on the other, the course of Fall River, vaporizing these two streams in their passage. There was no possible way of crossing this stream; it was necessary, on the contrary, to fly before it. The flattened volcano was no longer recognizable. A sort of smooth slab terminated it, replacing the old crater. Two outlets, broken in the south and east sides, poured forth unceasing streams of lava, which formed two distinct currents. Above the new crater, a cloud of smoke and cinders mixed with the vapors of the sky, and hung over the island. Peals of thunder mingled with the rumbling of the mountain. Burning rocks were thrown up thousands of feet, bursting in the sky and scattering like grape-shot. The heavens answered with lightning-flashes the eruption of the volcano.

By 7 o’clock the colonists were no longer able to keep their position on the edge of Jacamar Wood. Not only did the projectiles begin to fall about them, but the lavas, overflowing the bed of Red Creek, threatened to cut off the road from the corral. The first ranks of trees took fire, and their sap, vaporized, made them explode like fire-crackers; while others, less humid, remained intact in the midst of the inundation.

The colonists started back. The torrent, owing to the slope of the land, gained eastward rapidly, and as the lower layers of lava hardened, others, boiling, covered them.

Meantime the principal current in the Red Creek Valley became more and more threatening. All that part of the forest was surrounded, and enormous clouds of smoke rolled above the trees, whose roots were already in the lava.

The colonists stopped at the lake shore, half a mile from the mouth of Red Creek. A question of life or death was about to be decided for them. Smith, accustomed to think and reason in the presence of danger, and aware that he was speaking to men who could face the truth, whatever it might be, said to them:—

“Either the lake will arrest this current, and a part of the island will be preserved from complete devastation, or the current will invade the forests of the Far West, and not a tree, not a plant will be left upon the face of the ground. We will have, upon these rocks stripped of life, the prospect of a death which the explosion of the island may anticipate!

“Then,” cried Pencroff, crossing his arms and stamping his foot on the ground, “it is useless to work on the ship! Isn’t that so?”

“Pencroff,” answered Smith, “it is necessary to do one’s duty to the end.”

At this moment, the flood of lava, after having eaten its way through the splendid trees of the forest, neared the lake. There was a certain depression in the ground, which, if it had been larger, might, perhaps, suffice to hold the torrent.

“Let us try!” cried Smith.

The idea of the engineer was instantly understood by all. It was necessary to dam, so to speak, this torrent and force it into the lake.

The colonists ran to the shipyard and brought back from there shovels, picks, and hatchets, and by means of earthworks and hewn trees they succeeded, in a few hours, in raising a barrier three feet high and some hundreds of feet long. It seemed to them, when they had finished, that they had not worked more than a few minutes!

It was time. The liquified matter already reached the extremity of the barrier. The flood spread like a swollen river seeking to overflow its banks and threatening to break down the only obstacle which could prevent its devastating all the Far West. But the barrier was sufficient to withstand it, and, after one terrible moment of hesitation, it precipitated itself into Lake Grant by a fall twenty feet high.

The colonists, breathless, without a word, without a gesture, looked upon this struggle of the elements.

What a sight was this, the combat between fire and water! What pen can describe this scene of marvellous horror; what pencil can portray it? The water hissed and steamed at the contact of the boiling lavas. The steam was thrown, whirling, to an immeasurable height in the air, as if the valves of an immense boiler had been suddenly opened. But, great as was the mass of water contained in the lake, it must, finally, be absorbed, since it was not renewed, while the torrent, fed from an inexhaustible source, was ceaselessly pouring in fresh floods of incandescent matter.

The first lavas which fell into the lake solidified at once, and accumulated in such a manner as soon to emerge above the surface. Over these slid other lavas, which in their turn became stone, forming a breakwater, which threatened to fill up the lake, which could not overflow, as its surplus water was carried off in steam. Hissings and shrivellings filled the air with a stunning noise, and the steam, carried off by the wind, fell to the ground in rain. The jetty spread, and where formerly had been peaceable waters appeared