of the balloon, which, lightened by his and the dog’s weight, had sped away like an arrow. He found himself in the midst of the tumultuous sea, more than half a mile from shore. He swum vigorously against the waves, and Top sustained him by his garments; but a strong current seized him, carrying him to the north, and, after struggling for half an hour, he sank, dragging the dog with him into the abyss. From that moment to the instant of his finding himself in the arms of his friends, he remembered nothing.
“Nevertheless,” said Pencroff, “you must have been cast upon the shore, and had strength enough to walk to this place, since Neb found your tracks.”
“Yes, that must be so,” answered the engineer, reflectively. “And you have not seen any traces of inhabitants upon the shore?”
“Not a sign,” answered the reporter. “Moreover, if by chance some one had rescued you from the waves, why should he then have abandoned you?”
“You are right, my dear Spilett. Tell me, Neb,” inquired the engineer, turning towards his servant, “it was not you—you could not have been in a trance—during which—. No, that’s absurd. Do any of the footprints still remain?”
“Yes, master,” replied Neb; “there are some at the entrance, back of this mound, in a place sheltered from the wind and rain, but the others have been obliterated by the storm.”
“Pencroff,” said Cyrus, “will you take my shoes and see if they fit those footprints exactly?”
The sailor did as he had been asked. He and Herbert, guided by Neb, went to where the marks were, and in their absence Smith said to the reporter:—
“That is a thing passing belief.”
“Inexplicable, indeed,” answered the other.
“But do not dwell upon it at present, my dear Spilett, we will talk of it hereafter.”
At this moment the others returned. All doubt was set at rest. The shoes of the engineer fitted the tracks exactly. Therefore it must have been Smith himself who had walked over the sand.
“So,” he said, “I was the one in a trance, and not Neb! I must have walked like a somnambulist, without consciousness, and Top’s instinct brought me here after he rescued me from the waves. Here, Top. Come here, dog.”
The splendid animal sprang, barking, to his master, and caresses were lavished upon him. It was agreed that there was no other way to account for the rescue than by giving Top the credit of it.
Towards noon, Pencroff having asked Smith if he felt strong enough to be carried, the latter, for answer, by an effort which showed his strength of will, rose to his feet. But if he had not leaned upon the sailor he would have fallen.
“Capital,” said Pencroff. “Summon the engineer’s carriage!”
The litter was brought. The cross-branches had been covered with moss and grass; and when Smith was laid upon it they walked towards the coast, Neb and the sailor carrying him.
Eight miles had to be travelled, and as they could move but slowly, and would probably have to make frequent rests, it would take six hours or more to reach the Chimneys. The wind was still strong, but, fortunately, it had ceased raining. From his couch, the engineer, leaning upon his arm, observed the coast, especially the part opposite the sea. He examined it without comment, but undoubtedly the aspect of the country, its contour, its forests and diverse products were noted in his mind. But after two hours, fatigue overcame him, and he slept upon the litter.
At half-past 5 the little party reached the precipice, and soon after, were before the Chimneys. Stopping here, the litter was placed upon the sand without disturbing the slumber of the engineer.
Pencroff saw, to his surprise, that the terrible storm of the day before had altered the aspect of the place. Rocks had been displaced. Great fragments were strewn over the sand, and a thick carpet of several kinds of seaweed covered all the shore. It was plain that the sea sweeping over the isle had reached to the base of the enormous granite curtain.
Before the entrance to the Chimneys the ground had been violently torn up by the action of the waves. Pencroff, seized with a sudden fear, rushed into the corridor. Returning, a moment after, he stood motionless looking at his comrades.
The fire bad been extinguished; the drowned cinders were nothing but mud. The charred linen, which was to serve them for tinder, had gone. The sea had penetrated every recess of the corridor, and everything was overthrown, everything was destroyed within the Chimneys.
CHAPTER IX.
CYRUS IS HERE-PENCROFF’S ATTEMPTS—RUBBING WOOD—ISLAND OR CONTINENT —THE PLANS OF THE ENGINEER—WHEREABOUTS IN THE PACIFIC—IN THE DEPTHS OF THE FOREST—THE PISTACHIO PINE—A PIG CHASE—A SMOKE OF GOOD OMEN.
In a few words the others were informed of what had happened. This accident, which portended serious results—at least Pencroff foresaw such—affected each one differently. Neb, overjoyed in having recovered his master, did not listen or did not wish to think of what Pencroff said. Herbert shared in a measure the apprehensions of the sailor. As to the reporter, he simply answered:—
“Upon my word, Pencroff, I don’t think it matters much!”
“But I tell you again; we have no fire!”
“Pshaw!”
“Nor any means of lighting one!”
“Absurd!”
“But, Mr. Spilett—”
“Is not Cyrus here?” asked the reporter; “Isn’t he alive? He will know well enough how to make fire!”
“And with what?”
“With nothing!”
What could Pencroff answer? He had nothing to say, as, in his heart, he shared his companion’s confidence in Cyrus Smith’s ability. To them the engineer was a microcosm, a compound of all science and all knowledge. They were better off on a desert island with Cyrus than without him in the busiest city of the Union. With him they could want for nothing; with him they would have no fear. If they had been told that a volcanic eruption would overwhelm the land, sinking it into the depths of the Pacific, the imperturbable answer of these brave men would have been, “Have we not Cyrus!”
Meantime, the engineer had sunk into a lethargy, the result of the journey, and his help could not be asked for just then. The supper, therefore, would be very meagre. All the tetras had been eaten, there was no way to cook other birds, and, finally, the couroucous which had been reserved had disappeared. Something, therefore, must be done.
First of all, Cyrus Smith was carried into the main corridor. There they were able to make for him a couch of seaweeds, and, doubtless, the deep sleep in which he was plunged, would strengthen him more than an abundant nourishment.
With night the temperature, which the northwest wind had raised, again became very cold, and, as the sea had washed away the partitions which Pencroff had constructed, draughts of air made the place scarcely habitable. The engineer would
