Smith looked attentively at the thick smoke, and at the same time he listened as if he expected to detect some distant rumbling. Then, turning towards his companions, who were at some little distance, he said:—
“In truth, my friends, it cannot be denied that an important change has taken place. The volcanic matters are not only in a state of ebullition, they have taken fire, and, without doubt, we are threatened with an eruption!”
“Very well, sir; we will witness this eruption,” cried Pencroff, “and we will applaud it if it is a success! I don’t think that anything over there need worry us!”
“No, Pencroff,” answered Smith, “for the old course of the lava is open, and, thanks to its position, the crater has heretofore discharged towards the north. Nevertheless—”
“Nevertheless, since there is nothing to be gained by an eruption, it would be better not to have it,” said the reporter.
“Who knows?” replied the sailor. “There may be some useful and precious matter in the volcano, which it will be good enough to throw up, which will be advantageous for us!”
Smith shook his head, as a man who anticipated nothing good from this phenomenon. He did not think so lightly of the consequences of an eruption. If the lava, on account of the position of the crater, did not menace the wooded and cultivated portions of the island, other complications might arise. Eruptions are often accompanied by earthquakes, and an island formed, like Lincoln Island, of such different materials: basalt on one side, granite on another, lavas to the north, a mixed soil inland, material which, therefore, could not be solidly bound together, ran the risk of being torn asunder. If, therefore, the outpouring of volcanic substances did not threaten serious results, any movement in the framework upholding the island might be followed by the gravest consequences.
“It seems to me,” said Ayrton, who was kneeling down, with his ear to the ground, “it seems to me that I hear a noise, like the rattling of a wagon, loaded with iron bars.”
The colonists listened carefully, and were convinced that Ayrton was not mistaken. With the rumbling mingled subterranean roaring, making a sort of rinfordzando, which died away slowly, as if from some violent cleavage in the interior of the globe. But no detonation was heard, and it was fair to conclude that the smoke and vapor found a free passage through the central chimney, and, if the escape-pipe was sufficiently large, no explosion need be feared.
“Come,” said Pencroff at length, “shall we not go back to work? Let Mount Franklin smoke, brawl, moan, and vomit fire and flames as much as it chooses, but that is no excuse for us to quit work! Come, Ayrton, Neb, all of you, we want all hands today! I want our new Good Luck—we will keep the name, will we not?—to be moored in Balloon Harbor before two months are passed! So there is not an hour to be lost!”
All the colonists went down to the shipyard and worked steadily all day without giving too much thought to the volcano, which could not be seen from the beach before Granite House. But once or twice heavy shadows obscured the sunlight, and, as the was day perfectly clear, it was evident that thick clouds of smoke were passing between the sun’s disc and the island. Smith and Spilett noticed these sombre voyagers, and talked of the progress that the volcanic phenomenon was making, but they did not cease work. It was, moreover, of great importance, in every sense, that the ship should be finished with as little delay as possible. In the presence of events which might happen, the security of the colonists would be better assured. Who could say but that this ship might not, someday, be their sole refuge?
That evening, after supper, Smith, Spilett, and Herbert climbed to the plateau. It was already dark, and they would be able to distinguish whether flames or incandescent matter was mingled with the smoke and vapor of the volcano.
“The crater is on fire!” cried Herbert, who, more active than his companions, had reached the plateau the first.
Mount Franklin, six miles distant, appeared like a gigantic torch, with fuliginous flames twisting about its summit. So much smoke, such quantities of scoriæ and cinders, perhaps, were mingled with the flames, that their light did not glare upon the shades of night. But a sort of dull yellow glow spread over the island, making dimly visible the higher masses of forest. Enormous clouds obscured the heavens, between which glittered a few stars.
“The progress is rapid,” said the engineer.
“It is not astonishing,” answered the reporter. “The volcano has been awake for some time already. You remember, Cyrus, that the first vapors appeared about the time we were searching the mountain for the retreat of Captain Nemo. That was, if I am not mistaken, about the 15th of October.”
“Yes,” replied Herbert, “two months and a half ago.”
“The subterranean fires have been brooding for ten weeks,” continued Spilett, “and it is not astonishing that they develop now with this violence.”
“Do not you feel certain vibrations in the ground?” asked Smith.
“I think so,” replied Spilett, “but an earthquake—”
“I did not say that we were menaced by an earthquake,” said Smith, “and Heaven preserve us from one! No. These vibrations are due to the effervesence of the central fire. The crust of the earth is nothing more than the covering of a boiler, and you know how the covering of a boiler, under pressure, vibrates like a sonorous plate. That is what is happening at this moment.”
“What magnificent flames!” cried Herbert, as a sheaf of fire shot up, unobscured by the vapors, from the crater. From its midst luminous fragments and bright scintillations were thrown in every direction. Some of them pierced the dome of smoke, leaving behind them a perfect cloud of incandescent dust. This outpouring was accompanied by rapid detonations like the discharge of a battery of mitrailleuses.
Smith, the
