His fingers had grasped this small piece of wood through the coat’s fabric, but he could not get it out. Since this was probably a match, and their only one, they had to be careful not to rub away the phosphorous.
“Will you let me try?” the lad asked him.
Very skillfully, without breaking it, Harbert managed to remove this matchstick, this precious trifle which, for these unfortunate people, was of such crucial importance. It was intact.
“A match!” shouted Pencroff. “Ah! It’s as if we had a whole cargo!”
He took the match and, followed by his companions, went back to the Chimneys.
This small sliver of wood, which in civilized countries is treated with indifference, would need to be used here with extreme care. The sailor assured himself that it was really dry. That done, he said, “We need some paper.”
“Here,” replied Gideon Spilett who, after some hesitation, tore out a leaf from his notebook.
Pencroff took the piece of paper and squatted in front of the fireplace. Several handfuls of grass, leaves, and dry moss were placed under the faggots and arranged so the air could easily circulate, letting the dead wood catch fire quickly.
Then Pencroff folded the paper in the form of a cone, as smokers do in a high wind, and placed it among the mosses. Next, taking a rather flat stone, he wiped it with care. With his heart beating fast, he gently rubbed the stone without breathing.
The first rubbing produced no effect. Pencroff had not applied enough pressure, afraid that he would scratch away the phosphorous.
“No, I can’t do it,” he said, “my hand trembles … The match didn’t catch fire … I can’t … I don’t want to,” and getting up he asked Harbert to take his place.
Certainly, in all his life, the lad had never been so nervous. His heart pounded. Prometheus going to steal fire from Heaven had not been more anxious. He did not hesitate, however, and quickly rubbed the stone. They heard a sputter, then a weak blue flame spurted out producing a sharp flame. Harbert gently turned the match so as to feed the flame, then he slipped it into the paper cone. The paper caught fire in a few seconds and then the moss began to burn.
Several moments later, the dry wood crackled, and a joyful flame, fanned by the sailor’s vigorous breath, began to glow in the darkness.
“Truly,” exclaimed Pencroff, getting up. “I was never so nervous in my life!”
The fire burned well on the fireplace of flat stones. The smoke went up easily through the narrow passage, the chimney drew the smoke, and a pleasant warmth soon filled the shelter.
As to the fire, they had to take care not to let it burn out and to always keep some embers under the ashes. But this was merely a matter of care and attention since there was no shortage of wood, and their supply could always be renewed at their convenience. Pencroff first intended to use the fireplace to prepare a supper more nourishing than a dish of lithodomes. Harbert brought over two dozen eggs. The reporter, resting in a corner, watched these preparations without saying a word. Three thoughts were on his mind. Was Cyrus still alive? If he was alive where could he be? If he had survived his fall, why had he not made his existence known? As for Neb, he prowled the beach like a body without a soul.
“I was never so nervous in my life!”
Pencroff, who knew fifty two ways to make eggs, had no options at the moment. He had to be content to place them among the warm cinders and to let them cook at low heat.
In a few minutes, the cooking was done and the sailor invited the reporter to take his share of the supper. Such was the first meal of the castaways on this unknown shore. These hard eggs were excellent and, since eggs contain all the nutrients necessary for human nourishment, these poor men found themselves well off and felt strengthened.
Ah! If only one of them had not been missing at this meal! If only the five prisoners who had escaped from Richmond could all have been there under this pile of rocks in front of this bright crackling fire on this dry sand, what thanks they would have given to Heaven! But the most ingenious and the wisest among them, he who was their unquestioned chief, Cyrus Smith, was missing! And his body had not even had a decent burial!
So passed the day of March 25. Night had come. Outside, they heard the wind whistling and the monotonous surf beating against the shore. The pebbles, tossed around by the waves, rolled about with a deafening roar.
The reporter had lain down on the floor after having quickly noted the incidents of the day: the first appearance of this new land, the disappearance of the engineer, the exploration of the coast, the incident with the matches, etc.; and, helped by fatigue, he managed to fall sleep. Harbert slept well. As to the sailor, he spent the night with one eye on the fire and spared no fuel.
One of the castaways did not find rest in the Chimneys. It was Neb. Forlorn, without hope, and in spite of the pleadings of his companions, he wandered on the shore for the entire night calling for his master!
CHAPTER VI
The inventory of objects possessed by these castaways from the sky, thrown down onto a coast that appeared to be uninhabited, was soon taken.
They had nothing except the clothes on their backs at the moment of the catastrophe. There was a notebook and a watch that Gideon Spilett had saved, inadvertently no doubt; but there was not a single weapon, not a tool, not even a pocket knife. The balloon passengers had thrown everything overboard in order to lighten their craft. The imaginary heroes of Daniel Defoe or of Wyss, as well as the Selkirks and the Raynals, castaways at Juan-Fernandez and the archipelago of Auckland,1 never found themselves so entirely helpless. These men had abundant resources of grain, animals, tools, and munitions drawn from their stranded vessels; or else some wreckage had washed up along the shore which allowed them to provide for the necessities of life. They were not, at the outset, so absolutely defenseless before the rigors of nature. They owned no instrument whatsoever, not a utensil. From nothing, the castaways would need to supply themselves with everything!
If only Cyrus Smith had been with them, if only the engineer had been able to apply his practical science and his inventive spirit to this situation, perhaps all hope would not have been lost. Alas! They could not count on seeing Cyrus Smith again. The castaways could only depend on themselves and on Providence who never abandons those whose faith is sincere.
But should they settle themselves on this part of the shore without trying to find out to what continent it belonged, if it was inhabited or only the beach of a deserted island?
It was an important question to be resolved quickly for the measures to be taken would depend on the answer. Pencroff advised that it would be best to wait a few days before undertaking an exploration since it was necessary to prepare provisions and get food more substantial than eggs and mollusks. The explorers, having endured long fatigue, without a shelter for sleeping, would need to refresh themselves before doing anything else.
The Chimneys offered sufficient refuge for the time being. The fire was lit and it would be easy to keep the cinders alive. For the moment, there was no lack of mollusks and eggs among the rocks and on the beach. Using sticks or stones, they would surely find a way to kill some of these pigeons that flew about by the hundreds at the crest of the plateau. Perhaps the trees of the nearby forest would give them edible fruit? And, lastly, there was plenty
