would calculate exactly the north of the island. Because they were located in the southern hemisphere, the sun, at the precise moment of reaching its highest point, would pass to the north and not to the south in its apparent movement, as it seems to do in locales in the northern hemisphere.
Everything was thus finished, and the colonists had only to climb down Mount Franklin to return to the Chimneys, when Pencroff said:
“What incredible dopes we are!”
“Why do you say that?” asked Gideon Spilett, who had closed his notebook and was getting ready to leave.
“What about our island itself? We’ve forgotten to name it.”
Harbert was going to propose the engineer’s name and all his companions would have applauded this choice, when Cyrus Smith simply said:
“Let’s name it after that great citizen, my friends, who now fights to defend the unity of the American republic. Let’s call it Lincoln Island.”3
Three hurrahs cheered the engineer’s proposition.
And that evening, before going to sleep, the new colonists spoke of the country they all longed for; they spoke of this terrible war which was staining it with blood; they could not doubt that the South would soon be subdued and that the cause of the North, the cause of justice, could only triumph thanks to Grant and thanks to Lincoln.
So passed the 30th of March 1865. They could scarcely know that, two weeks and a day later, a horrible crime would be committed in Washington and that, on Good Friday, Abraham Lincoln would be murdered by a fanatic.
*Approximately 45 leagues of 4 kilometers.
CHAPTER XII
The colonists of Lincoln Island cast one last glance around, then proceeded around the crater by its narrow ridge and, a half hour later, climbed down to the first plateau to their night camp.
Pencroff thought it was mealtime, and he raised the question of adjusting the two watches belonging to Cyrus Smith and the reporter.
Gideon Spilett’s watch had not been damaged by the sea water since the reporter had been thrown on the beach from the first, out of reach of the waves. It was an instrument of excellent accuracy, a real pocket chronometer, which Gideon Spilett had never forgotten to wind carefully each day.
As to the engineer’s watch, it had obviously stopped during the time Cyrus Smith spent on the dunes.
The engineer reset it, estimating approximately from the height of the sun that it was about nine o’clock in the morning. He set his watch to that hour.
Gideon Spilett was about to do the same when the engineer held him back saying:
“No, my dear Spilett, wait. You’ve kept the time of Richmond, haven’t you?”
“Yes, Cyrus.”
“Consequently your watch is set to the meridian of that city, a meridian which is very nearly that of Washington?”
“No doubt.”
“Very well, then keep that setting. Remember to wind it carefully but don’t touch the hands. This will be useful.”
“What good will that be?” thought the sailor.
They ate so well that the supply of game and almonds was now completely exhausted. But Pencroff was not uneasy. They would resupply themselves en route. Top, whose portion was meager, would know how to find some new game under the cover of the brushwood. Moreover, the sailor simply intended to ask the engineer to make powder and one or two hunting guns, thinking this would present no difficulty for Cyrus Smith.
On leaving the plateau, Cyrus Smith proposed that they take a new road back to the Chimneys. He wanted to explore Lake Grant which was so magnificently surrounded by a border of trees. They followed the crest of one of the foothills where the creek* that fed the lake probably found its source. While chatting, the colonists were already using the proper names that they had chosen, and this facilitated the exchange of ideas. Harbert and Pencroff—the one young and the other like a small child—were delighted and, while walking along, the sailor said:
“Hey, Harbert, how things are coming along! We can’t possibly get lost, my boy, since whether we follow the road to Lake Grant or we rejoin the Mercy by crossing the woods of the Far West, we’ll necessarily arrive at Grand View Plateau and consequently at Union Bay.”
Even though they had not formed a compact group, the colonists would not wander too far from each other. Very certainly some dangerous animals inhabited the thick forests of the island, and it would be prudent to be on guard. As a rule, Pencroff, Harbert, and Neb went on ahead, preceded by Top who poked his nose into every corner. The reporter and the engineer went together. Gideon Spilett was ready to record every incident. The engineer was silent most of the time, wandering from the road only to pick up some mineral or vegetable substance, which he put into his pocket without making any comment.
“What the devil can he be picking up?” murmured Pencroff. “I’ve looked carefully and I don’t see anything worth bending over for.”
About ten o’clock, the small troop descended the last slopes of Mount Franklin. The soil was still scattered with only a few bushes and some sparse trees. They walked on yellowish calcinated ground forming a plain about a mile long which preceded the border of the woods. Some large sections of basalt which, according to Bischof,1 require three hundred fifty million years to cool, were strewn on the plain, very broken up in places. However, there were no traces of lava, which had poured down especially the northern slopes.
They continued on, preceded by Top.
Cyrus Smith believed they could reach the creek without incident. He was explaining that the creek would unfold under the trees at the edge of the plain, when he saw Harbert running towards him, while Neb and the sailor were hiding behind some rocks.
“What is it, my boy?” asked Gideon Spilett.
“Smoke,” replied Harbert. “We’ve seen smoke rising among the rocks about a hundred feet from us.”
“Men in this area?” said the reporter.
“Let’s avoid showing ourselves before we know who we’re dealing with,” replied Cyrus Smith. “I especially fear the natives if there are any on this island. Where’s Top?”
“Top’s up ahead.”
“And he doesn’t bark?”
“No.”
“That’s strange. Nevertheless, let’s try to call him back.”
In a few minutes, the engineer, Gideon Spilett, and Harbert joined their two companions and they all hid behind some basalt debris. From there, they could clearly see smoke with a characteristic yellow color twirling into the air.
Top was recalled by a low whistle from his
