Often, however, after the day’s work was ended, the colonists sat late into the night, conversing together of the future and what might happen in a voyage in the schooner to the nearest land. But in discussing these projects they always planned to return to Lincoln Island. Never would they abandon this colony, established with so much difficulty, but so successfully, and which would receive a new development through communication with America.
Pencroff and Neb, indeed, hoped to end their days here.
“Herbert,” asked the sailor, “you would never abandon Lincoln Island?”
“Never, Pencroff, especially if you made up your mind to remain.”
“Then, it’s agreed, my boy. I shall expect you! You will bring your wife and children here, and I will make a jolly playmate for the babies!”
“Agreed,” answered Herbert, laughing and blushing at the same time.
“And you, Mr. Smith,” continued the sailor, enthusiastically, “you will always remain governor of the island! And, by the way, how many inhabitants can the island support? Ten thousand, at the very least!”
They chatted in this way, letting Pencroff indulge in his whims, and one thing leading to another, the reporter finished by founding the New Lincoln Herald!
Thus it is with the spirit of man. The need of doing something permanent, something which will survive him, is the sign of his superiority over everything here below. It is that which has established and justifies his domination over the whole world.
After all, who knows if Jup and Top had not their dream of the future?
Ayrton, silent, said to himself that he wanted to see Lord Glenarvan, and show him the change in himself.
One evening, the 15th of October, the conversation was prolonged longer than usual. It was nine o’clock, and already, long, ill-concealed yawns showed that it was bedtime. Pencroff was about starting in that direction, when, suddenly, the electric bell in the hall rang.
Everyone was present, so none of their party could be at the corral.
Smith rose. His companions looked as if they had not heard aright.
“What does he want?” cried Neb. “Is it the devil that’s ringing?”
No one replied.
“It is stormy weather,” said Herbert; “perhaps the electric influence—”
Herbert did not finish the sentence. The engineer, towards whom all were looking, shook his head.
“Wait a minute,” said Spilett. “If it is a signal, it will be repeated.”
“But what do you think it is?” asked Neb.
“Perhaps it—”
The sailor’s words were interrupted by another ring.
Smith went to the apparatus, and, turning on the current, telegraphed to the corral:—
“What do you want?”
A few minutes later the needle, moving over the lettered card, gave this answer to the inmates of Granite House:—
“Come to the corral as quickly as possible.”
“At last!” cried Smith.
Yes! At last! The mystery was about to be solved! Before the strong interest in what was at the corral, all fatigue and need of repose vanished. Without saying a word, in a few minutes they were out of Granite House and following the shore. Only Top and Jup remained behind.
The night was dark. The moon, new this day, had set with the sun. Heavy clouds obscured the stars, but now and then heat-lightning, the reflection of a distant storm, illuminated the horizon.
But, great as the darkness was, it could not hinder persons as familiar with the route as were the colonists. All were very much excited, and walked rapidly. There could be no doubt that they were going to find the answer to the engineer, the name of that mysterious being, who was so generous in his influence, so powerful to accomplish! It could not be doubted that this unknown had been familiar with the least detail of their daily lives, that he overheard all that was said in Granite House.
Each one, lost in his reflections, hurried onward. The darkness under the trees was such that the route was invisible. There was no sound in the forest. Not a breath of wind moved the leaves.
This silence during the first quarter of an hour was uninterrupted, save by Pencroff, who said:—
“We should have brought a lantern.”
And by the engineer’s answer:—
“We will find one at the corral.”
Smith and his companions had left Granite House at twelve minutes past nine. In thirty-five minutes they had traversed three of the five miles between the mouth of the Mercy and the corral.
Just then, brilliant flashes of lightning threw the foliage into strong relief. The storm was evidently about to burst upon them. The flashes became more frequent and intense. Heavy thunder rolled through the heavens. The air was stifling.
The colonists rushed on, as if impelled by some irresistible force.
At a quarter past nine, a sudden flash showed them the outline of the palisade; and scarcely had they passed the gateway when there came a terrible clap of thunder. In a moment the corral was crossed, and Smith stood before the house. It was possible that the unknown being was here, since it was from this place that the telegraph had come. Nevertheless, there was no light in the window.
The engineer knocked at the door, but without response.
He opened it, and the colonists entered the room, which was in utter darkness.
A light was struck by Neb, and in a moment the lantern was lit, and its light directed into every corner of the chamber.
No one was there, and everything remained undisturbed.
“Are we victims to a delusion?” murmured Smith.
No! that was impossible! The telegraph had certainly said:—
“Come to the corral as quickly as possible.”
He went to the table on which the
