would undoubtedly have detected it because nature had truly placed two telescopes under his eyebrows.
After the ocean, their attention shifted to the island itself which they could see in its entirety. The first question was asked by Gideon Spilett:
“About how large is the island?”
It did not appear to be very substantial in the middle of this immense ocean.
Cyrus Smith reflected for several moments. He looked all around the island taking into account the height at which they were situated; then:
“My friends,” he said, “I believe I’m not mistaken in giving the shoreline of the island a perimeter of more than 100 miles.”*
“And its area?”
“That’s difficult to estimate,” replied the engineer, “because it’s outline is so irregular.”
If Cyrus Smith was not mistaken in his evaluation, the island was nearly as large as Malta or Zakynthos in the Mediterranean; but at the same time it was much more irregular and less rich in capes, promontories, points, bays, coves, or creeks. Its truly unusual shape surprised them, and when Gideon Spilett sketched its contours at the engineer’s suggestion, they found that it resembled some fantastic animal, a sort of monstrous pteropoda1 which was sleeping on the surface of the Pacific.
This was the exact configuration of the island, a map of which was immediately and concisely sketched by the reporter:
The eastern portion of the coast on which the castaways had landed was curved on a large arc and bordered by a vast bay which ended in the southeast by a sharp cape, a point hidden from Pencroff at the time of his first exploration. In the northeast, two other capes closed the bay and between them a narrow gulf was hollowed out which resembled the half opened jaw of some formidable shark.
From the northeast to the northwest, the coast was rounded like the flattened skull of a wild beast rising to a kind of indeterminate hump whose center was occupied by the volcanic mountain.
From this point on, the coastline was somewhat regular north and south, cut at two thirds of its length by a narrow creek, and it ended in a long tail resembling the caudal appendage of a gigantic alligator.
This tail formed a true peninsula which extended for more than thirty miles into the sea, counting the southeast cape of the island, already mentioned. The lower shore of this strangely-shaped piece of land curled around, creating a natural open harbor.
In it smallest width, that is to say between the Chimneys and the creek observed on the western coast, the island measured only ten miles. And its greatest length, from the jaw of the northeast to the end of the tail in the southwest, came to about thirty miles.
As to the interior of the island, its general appearance was thus: very wooded in all of its southern portion from the mountain up to the shore and dry and sandy in its northern part. Between the volcano and the east coast, Cyrus Smith and his companions were surprised to see a lake, bordered by green trees, whose existence they had not suspected. Seen from this height, the lake seemed to be at the same level as the sea but on reflection the engineer explained to his companions that the altitude of this small expanse of water must be 300 feet because the plateau which served as its basin was that high above the coast.
“Is this a fresh water lake?” asked Pencroff.
“Necessarily,” replied the engineer, “because it must be fed by waters which flow down from the mountain.”
“I see a small brook that flows into it,” said Harbert, pointing to a narrow creek which probably flowed from the foothills in the west.
“Yes,” replied Cyrus Smith, “since this stream feeds the lake, it’s likely that there exists an outlet by the sea where its overflow escapes. We’ll see this on our return.”
This winding watercourse and the river already noted, such was the hydrographic system they saw. It was possible, however, that beneath these masses of trees in the immense forest which made up two thirds of the island, other streams flowed toward the sea. They could assume so since this fertile and rich region showed the most magnificent specimens of flora of the temperate zones. As to the northern part, there was no indication of flowing water: perhaps some stagnant water in the marshy portions of the northeast, but that was all; there were dunes, sand, and a very pronounced aridity which vividly contrasted with the fertile soil in its larger portion.
“I see a small brook …”
The volcano did not occupy the central part of the island. It stood in the northwest region and seemed to mark the boundary between the two zones. Toward the southwest, the south, and the southeast, the lower levels of the foothills disappeared under masses of vegetation. In the north, on the contrary, one could follow their contours which gradually faded into the plains of sand. It was also on this coast, during the time of volcanic eruptions, that the discharges had opened up a passage, and one broad path of lava extended to this narrow jaw forming a gulf in the northeast.
Cyrus Smith and his companions stayed for an hour on the summit of the mountain. The island revealed itself under their eyes like a relief map with various tints, greens for the forests, yellows for the sands, blues for the waters. They saw it in its entirety. The ground hidden under the immense vegetation, the bottom of the shaded valleys, the interior of the narrow sunken gorges which extended to the foot of the volcano, these alone escaped their searching eyes.
One serious question remained to answer which would singularly influence the future of the castaways.
Was the island inhabited?
It was the reporter who posed this question. It seemed they could already give a negative response after their minute examination of the island’s diverse regions.
Nowhere could be seen the work of human hands, no conglomeration of cabins, not an isolated hut, not a fishery on the shore. No smoke rose to betray the presence of man. It is true that a distance of approximately thirty miles separated the observers from the furthest points of the island, and it would be difficult even for Pencroff’s eyes to discover a habitation there. Neither could they lift up the screen of foliage which covered three quarters of the island to see if it did or did not hide some village. But the islanders of these narrow lands that emerge from the Pacific tend to live along the shore, and the shore appeared to be absolutely deserted.
Until a more complete exploration, they would have to admit that the island was uninhabited.
But was it visited, at times, by natives from neighboring islands? It was difficult to answer this question. No land appeared within a radius of approximately fifty miles. But fifty miles could easily be crossed, either by Malaysian proas or by large Polynesian canoes. All depended on the position of the island, its isolation in the Pacific, and its proximity to the archipelagos. Would Cyrus Smith later be able to determine their latitude and longitude without instruments? That would be difficult. It would be best to take certain precautions against a possible visit from neighboring natives.
The exploration of the island was complete, its configuration determined, its outline noted, its area calculated, its hydrography and orography accounted for. The disposition of the forests and the plains were roughly sketched in on the map by the reporter. There was nothing left to do but descend the slopes of the mountain and explore the land
