In a short time, the colonists entered the house again, and their efforts soon restored Ayrton to himself. Neb and Pencroff carried away the bodies of the convicts and buried them in the wood. Then, Ayrton was informed by the engineer of all that had happened during his imprisonment.
“And now,” said Smith, finishing his recital, “we have one thing more to do. Half of our task is accomplished; but if the convicts are no longer to be feared, we did not restore ourselves to the mastership of the island!”
“Very well,” replied Spilett, “let us search all the mazes of Mount Franklin. Let us leave no cavity, no hole unexplored! Ah! if ever a reporter found himself in the presence of an exciting mystery, I am in that position!”
“And we will not return to Granite House,” said Herbert, “until we have found our benefactor.”
“Yes,” said Smith, “we will do everything that is possible for human beings to do—but, I repeat it, we will not find him till he wills it.”
“Shall we stay here at the corral?” asked Pencroff.
“Yes,” replied the engineer, “let us remain here. Provisions are abundant, and we are in the centre of our circle of investigation, and, moreover, if it is necessary, the wagon can go quickly to Granite House.”
“All right,” said Pencroff. “Only one thing.”
“What is that?”
“Why, the fine weather is here, and we must not forget that we have a voyage to make.”
“A voyage?” asked Spilett.
“Yes, to Tabor Island. We most put up a notice, indicating our island, in case the Scotch yacht returns. Who knows that it is not already too late?”
“But, Pencroff,” asked Ayrton, “how do you propose to make this voyage?”
“Why, on the Good Luck!”
“The Good Luck!” cried Ayrton. “It’s gone!”
“Gone!” shouted Pencroff, springing to his feet.
“Yes. The convicts discovered where the sloop lay, and, a week ago, they put out to sea in her, and—”
“And?” said Pencroff, his heart trembling.
“And, not having Harvey to manage her, they ran her upon the rocks, and she broke all to pieces!”
“Oh! the wretches! the pirates! the devils!” exclaimed the sailor.
“Pencroff,” said Herbert, taking his hand, “we will build another, a larger Good Luck. We have all the iron, all the rigging of the brig at our disposal!”
“But, do you realize,” answered Pencroff, “that it will take at least five or six months to build a vessel of thirty or forty tons.”
“We will take our time,” replied the reporter, “and we will give up our voyage to Tabor Island for this year.”
“We must make the best of it, Pencroff,” said the engineer, “and I hope that this delay will not be prejudicial to us.”
“My poor Good Luck! my poor boat!” exclaimed the sailor, half brokenhearted at the loss of what was so dear to him.
The destruction of the sloop was a thing much to be regretted, and it was agreed that this loss must be repaired as soon as the search was ended.
This search was begun the same day, the 19th of February, and lasted throughout the week. The base of the mountain was composed of a perfect labyrinth of ravines and gorges, and it was here that the explorations must be made. No other part of the island was so well suited to hide an inhabitant who wished to remain concealed. But so great was the intricacy of these places that Smith explored them by a settled system.
In the first place, the colonists visited the valley opening to the south of the volcano, in which Fall River rose. Here was where Ayrton showed them the cavern of the convicts. This place was in exactly the same condition as Ayrton had left it. They found here a quantity of food and ammunition left there as a reserve by the convicts.
All this beautiful wooded valley was explored with great care, and then, the southwestern spur having been turned, the colonists searched a narrow gorge where the trees were less numerous. Here the stones took the place of grass, and the wild goats and moufflons bounded among the rocks. The arid part of the island began at this part. They saw already that, of the numerous valleys ramifying from the base of Mount Franklin, three only, bounded on the west by Fall River and on the east by Red Creek, were as rich and fertile as the valley of the corral. These two brooks, which developed into rivers as they progressed, received the whole of the mountain’s southern watershed and fertilized that portion of it. As to the Mercy it was more directly fed by abundant springs, hidden in Jacamar Wood.
Now any one of these three valleys would have answered for the retreat of some recluse, who would have found there all the necessaries of life. But the colonists had explored each of them without detecting the presence of man. Was it then at the bottom of these arid gorges, in the midst of heaps of rocks, in the rugged ravines to the north, between the streams of lava, that they would find this retreat and its occupant?
The northern part of Mount Franklin had at its base two large, arid valleys strewn with lava, sown with huge rocks, sprinkled with pieces of obsidian and labradorite. This part required long and difficult exploration. Here were a thousand cavities, not very comfortable, perhaps, but completely hidden and difficult of access. The colonists visited sombre tunnels, made in the plutonic epoch, still blackened by the fires of other days, which plunged into the heart of the mountain. They searched these dark galleries by the light of torches, peering into their least excavations and sounding their lowest depths. But everywhere was silence, obscurity. It did not seem as if any human being had ever trodden these antique corridors or an arm displaced one of these stones.
Nevertheless, if these places were absolutely deserted, if the obscurity was complete, Smith was forced
