convict, then, went to take their place on this desert islet, and at the moment he left the yacht these words were pronounced by Lord Glenarvan:—
"'Here, Ayrton, you will be far from any land, and without any possible communication with your fellow-creatures. You cannot escape from this islet on which the Duncan leaves you. You will be alone, under the eye of a God who reads the depths of the heart; but you will be neither lost nor forgotten, as was Captain Grant. Unworthy as you are to be remembered by men, men will remember you. I know where you are, Ayrton, and I know where to find you. I will never forget it!'
"And the Duncan, making sail, soon disappeared. This was on the 18th of March 1855.2
"Ayrton was alone, but he had no want of either ammunition, weapons, tools, or seeds.
"At his, the convict's disposal, was the house built by honest Captain Grant. He had only to live and expiate in solitude the crimes which he had committed.
"Gentlemen, he repented, he was ashamed of his crimes and was very miserable! He said to himself, that if men came some day to take him from that islet, he must be worthy to return amongst them! How he suffered, that wretched man! How he laboured to recover himself by work! How he prayed to be reformed by prayer! For two years, three years, this went on; but Ayrton, humbled by solitude, always looking for some ship to appear on the horizon, asking himself if the time of expiation would soon be complete, suffered as none other ever suffered! Oh! how dreadful was this solitude, to a heart tormented by remorse!
"But doubtless Heaven had not sufficiently punished this unhappy man, for he felt that he was gradually becoming a savage! He felt that brutishness was gradually gaining on him!
"He could not say if it was after two or three years of solitude; but at last he became the miserable creature you found!
"I have no need to tell you, gentlemen, that Ayrton, Ben Joyce, and I, are the same."
Cyrus Harding and his companions rose at the end of this account. It is impossible to say how much they were moved! What misery, grief, and despair lay revealed before them!
"Ayrton," said Harding, rising, "you have been a great criminal, but Heaven must certainly think that you have expiated your crimes! That has been proved by your having been brought again among your fellow-creatures. Ayrton, you are forgiven! And now you will be our companion?"
Ayrton drew back.
"Here is my hand!" said the engineer.
Ayrton grasped the hand which Harding extended to him, and great tears fell from his eyes.
"Will you live with us?" asked Cyrus Harding.
"Captain Harding, leave me some time longer," replied Ayrton, "leave me alone in the hut in the corral!"
"As you like, Ayrton," answered Cyrus Harding. Ayrton was going to withdraw, when the engineer addressed one more question to him:—
"One word more, my friend. Since it was your intention to live alone, why did you throw into the sea the document which put us on your track?"
"A document?" repeated Ayrton, who did not appear to know what he meant.
"Yes, the document which we found enclosed in a bottle, giving us the exact position of Tabor Island!"
Ayrton passed his hand over his brow, then after having thought, "I never threw any document into the sea!" he answered.
"Never," exclaimed Pencroft.
"Never!"
And Ayrton, bowing, reached the door and departed.
2 The events which have just been briefly related are taken from a work which some of our readers have no doubt read, and which is entitled Captain Grant's Children. They will remark on this occasion, as well as later, some discrepancy in the dates: but later again, they will understand why the real dates were not at first given.
CHAPTER XVIII
Conversation—Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett—An Idea of the Engineer's—The Electric Telegraph—The Wires—The Battery—The Alphabet—Fine Season—Prosperity of the Colony—Photography—An Appearance of Snow—Two Years in Lincoln Island.
"Poor man!" said Herbert, who had rushed to the door, but returned, having seen Ayrton slide down the rope of the lift and disappear in the darkness.
"He will come back," said Cyrus Harding.
"Come now, captain," exclaimed Pencroft, "what does that mean? What! wasn't it Ayrton who threw that bottle into the sea? Who was it then?"
Certainly, if ever a question was necessary to be made, it was that one!
"It was he," answered Neb, "only the unhappy man was half mad."
"Yes!" said Herbert, "and he was no longer conscious of what he was doing."
"It can only be explained in that way, my friends," replied Harding quickly, "and I understand now how Ayrton was able to point out exactly the situation of Tabor Island, since the events which had preceded his being left on the Island had made it known to him."
"However," observed Pencroft, "if he was not yet a brute when he wrote that document, and if he threw it into the sea seven or eight years ago, how is it that the paper has not been injured by damp?"
"That proves," answered Cyrus Harding, "that Ayrton was deprived of intelligence at a more recent time than he thinks."
"Of course it must be so," replied Pencroft, "without that the fact would be unaccountable."
"Unaccountable indeed," answered the engineer, who did not appear desirous to prolong the conversation.
"But has Ayrton told the truth?" asked the sailor.
"Yes," replied the reporter. "The story which he has told is true in every point. I remember quite well the account in the newspapers of the yacht expedition undertaken by Lord Glenarvan, and its result."
"Ayrton has told the truth," added Harding. "Do not doubt it, Pencroft, for it was painful to him. People tell the truth when they accuse themselves like that!"
The next day—the 21st of December—the colonists descended to the beach, and having climbed the plateau they found nothing of Ayrton. He had reached his house in the corral during the night, and the settlers judged it best not to agitate him by their presence. Time would doubtless perform what sympathy had been unable to accomplish.
Herbert, Pencroft, and Neb resumed their ordinary occupations. On this day the same work brought Harding and the reporter to the workshop at the Chimneys.
"Do you know, my dear Cyrus," said Gideon Spilett, "that the explanation you gave yesterday on the subject of the bottle has not satisfied me at all! How can it be supposed
