sweep of the bay was visible, Prospect Plateau; and, finally, that mass of impenetrable woods which covered Serpentine Peninsula, the Forests of the Far West.
The engineer bad approximately determined, by the height and position of the sun, the situation of the island with reference to the cardinal points, and had put Union Bay and Prospect Plateau to the east; but on the morrow, by taking the exact time of the sun’s rising and setting, and noting its situation at the time exactly intermediate, he expected to ascertain precisely the northern point of the island; for, on account of its situation on the Southern Hemisphere, the sun at the moment of its culmination would pass to the north, and not to the south, as it does in the Northern Hemisphere.
All was settled, and the colonists were about to descend the mountain, when Pencroff cried:—
“Why, what idiots we are!”
“Why so?” said Spilett, who had gotten up and closed his notebook.
“We have forgotten to baptize our island!”
Herbert was about to propose to give it the name of the engineer, and his companions would have applauded the choice, when Cyrus Smith said quietly:—
“Let us give it the name of a great citizen, my friends, of the defender of American unity! Let us call it Lincoln Island!”
They greeted the proposal with three hurrahs.
CHAPTER XII.
REGULATION OF WATCHES—PENCROFF IS SATISFIED—A SUSPICIOUS SMOKE—THE COURSE OF RED CREEK—THE FLORA OF THE ISLAND—ITS FAUNA—MOUNTAIN PHEASANTS—A KANGAROO CHASE—THE AGOUTI—LAKE GRANT—RETURN TO THE CHIMNEYS.
The colonists of Lincoln Island cast a last look about them and walked once around the verge of the crater. Half an hour afterwards they were again upon the lower plateau, at their encampment of the previous night. Pencroff thought it was breakfast time, and so came up the question of regulating the watches of Smith and Spilett. The reporter’s chronometer was uninjured by the sea water, as he had been cast high up on the sand beyond the reach of the waves. It was an admirable time-piece, a veritable pocket chronometer, and Spilett had wound it up regularly every day. The engineer’s watch, of course, had stopped while he lay upon the downs. He now wound it up, and set it at 9 o’clock, estimating the time approximately by the height of the sun. Spilett was about to do the same, when the engineer stopped him.
“Wait, my dear Spilett,” said he. “You have the Richmond time, have you not?”
“Yes.”
“Your watch, then, is regulated by the meridian of that city, which is very nearly that of Washington?”
“Certainly.”
“Well, keep it so. Wind it up carefully, but do not touch the hands. This may be of use to us.”
“What’s the use of that?” thought the sailor.
They made such a hearty meal, that little was left of the meat and pistachio-nuts; but Pencroff did not trouble himself about that. Top, who had not been forgotten in the feast, would certainly find some new game in the thicket. Besides, the sailor had made up his mind to ask Smith to make some powder and one or two shot-guns, which, he thought, would be an easy matter.
As they were leaving the plateau, Smith proposed to his companions to take a new road back to the Chimneys. He wished to explore Lake Grant, which lay surrounded so beautifully with trees. They followed the crest of one of the spurs in which the creek which fed the lake probably had its source. The colonists employed in conversation only the proper names which they had just devised, and found that they could express themselves much more easily. Herbert and Pencroff, one of whom was young and the other something of a child, were delighted, and the sailor said as they walked along:—
“Well, Herbert, this is jolly! We can’t lose ourselves now, my boy, since, whether we follow Lake Grant or get to the Mercy through the woods of the Far West, we must come to Prospect Plateau, and so to Union Bay.”
It had been agreed that, without marching in a squad, the colonists should not keep too far apart. Dangerous wild beasts surely inhabited the forest recesses, and they must be on their guard. Usually Pencroff, Herbert, and Neb walked in front, preceded by Top, who poked his nose into every corner. The reporter and engineer walked together, the former ready to note down every incident, the latter seldom speaking, and turning aside only to pick up sometimes one thing, sometimes another, vegetable or mineral, which he put in his pocket without saying a word.
“What, the mischief, is he picking up?” muttered Pencroff. “There’s no use in looking; I see nothing worth the trouble of stooping for.”
About 10 o’clock the little company descended the last declivities of Mount Franklin. A few bushes and trees were scattered over the ground. They were walking on a yellowish, calcined soil, forming a plain about a mile long, which extended to the border of the wood. Large fragments of that basalt which, according to Bischof’s theory, has taken 350,000,000 years to cool, strewed the uneven surface of the plain. Yet there was no trace of lava, which had especially found an exit down the northern declivities. Smith thought they should soon reach the creek, which he expected to find flowing under the trees by the plain, when he saw Herbert running back, and Neb and the sailor hiding themselves behind the rocks.
“What’s the matter, my boy?” said Spilett.
“Smoke,” answered Herbert. “We saw smoke ascending from among the rocks, a hundred steps in front.”
“Men in this region!” cried the reporter.
“We must not show ourselves till we know with whom we have to deal,” answered Smith. “I have more fear than hope of the natives, if there are any such on the island. Where is Top?”
“Top is on ahead.”
“And has not barked?”
“No.”
“That is strange. Still, let us try to call him back.”
In a few moments the three had rejoined their companions, and had hidden themselves, like Neb and Pencroff, behind the basalt rubbish. Thence they saw, very evidently, a yellowish smoke curling into the air. Top was recalled by a low whistle from his master, who motioned to his comrades to wait, and stole forward under cover of the rocks. In perfect stillness the party awaited the result, when a call from Smith summoned them forward. In a moment they were by his side, and were struck at once by the disagreeable smell which pervaded the atmosphere. This odor, unmistakable as it was, had been sufficient to reassure the engineer.
“Nature is responsible for that fire,” he said, “or rather for that smoke. It is nothing but a sulphur spring, which will be good for our sore throats.”
“Good!” said Pencroff; “what a pity I have not a cold!”
The colonists walked towards the smoke. There they beheld a spring of sulphate of soda, which flowed in currents among the rocks, and whose waters, absorbing the oxygen of the air, gave off a lively odor of sulpho-hydric acid. Smith dipped his hand
