“Probably,” said Glenarvan.
“And with what horrible death do you threaten us?” inquired Lady Helena.
“The death of the sacrilegious, my friends,” continued Paganel. “The avenging flames are under our feet. Let us open a way for them.”
“What! you would make a volcano?” cried Captain Mangles.
“Yes, a factitious, an improvised one, whose fury we will control. There is quite a supply of vapors and subterranean fires that only ask for an outlet. Let us arrange an artificial eruption for our own advantage.”
“The idea is good,” said the major, “and well conceived, Paganel.”
“You understand,” resumed the geographer, “that we are to feign being consumed by the flames of Pluto, and shall disappear spiritually in the tomb of Kara-Tété.”
“Where we shall remain three, four, or five days, if necessary, till the savages are convinced of our death, and abandon the siege.”
“But if they think of making sure of our destruction,” said Miss Grant, “and climb the mountain?”
“No, my dear Mary,” replied Paganel, “they will not do that. The mountain is tabooed, and if it shall itself devour its profaners the taboo will be still more rigorous.”
“This plan is really well conceived,” remarked Glenarvan. “There is only one chance against it, and that is, that the savages may persist in remaining at the foot of the mountain till the provisions fail us. But this is scarcely probable, especially if we play our part skillfully.”
“And when shall we make this last venture?” asked Lady Helena.
“This very evening,” answered Paganel, “at the hour of the greatest darkness.”
“Agreed,” said MacNabb. “Paganel, you are a man of genius; and although from habit I am scarcely ever enthusiastic, I will answer for your success. Ha! these rascals! we shall perform a little miracle for them that will delay their conversion a good century. May the missionaries pardon us!”
Paganel’s plan was therefore adopted, and really, with the superstitious notions of the Maoris, it might and ought to succeed. It only remained to execute it. The idea was good, but in practice difficult. Might not this volcano consume the audacious ones who should dig the crater? Could they control and direct this eruption when the vapors, flames, and lava should be let loose? Would it not engulf the entire peak in a flood of fire? They were tampering with those phenomena whose absolute control is reserved for forces higher than theirs.
Paganel had foreseen these difficulties, but he expected to act prudently, and not to venture to extremes. An illusion was enough to deceive the Maoris, without the awful reality of a large eruption.
How long that day seemed! Each one counted the interminable hours. Everything was prepared for flight. The provisions of the tomb had been divided, and made into convenient bundles. Several mats, and the firearms, which had been found in the tomb of the chief, formed light baggage. Of course these preparations were made within the palisaded enclosure and unknown to the savages.
At six o’clock the steward served a farewell feast. Where and when they should eat in the valleys no one could foretell.
Twilight came on. The sun disappeared behind a bank of dense clouds of threatening aspect. A few flashes illumined the horizon, and a distant peal of thunder rumbled along the vault of the sky. Paganel welcomed the storm that came to the aid of his design.
At eight o’clock the summit of the mountain was hidden by a foreboding darkness, while the sky looked terribly black, as if for a background to the flaming outbreak that Paganel was about to inaugurate. The Maoris could no longer see their prisoners. The time for action had come. Rapidity was necessary, and Glenarvan, Paganel, MacNabb, Robert, the steward, and the two sailors at once set to work vigorously.
The place for the crater was chosen thirty paces from Kara-Tété’s tomb. It was important that this structure should be spared by the eruption, for otherwise the taboo would become ineffective. Paganel had observed an enormous block of stone, around which the vapors seemed to pour forth with considerable force. This rocky mass covered a small natural crater in the peak, and only by its weight prevented the escape of the subterranean flames. If they could succeed in overturning it, the smoke and lava would immediately issue through the unobstructed opening.
The fugitives made themselves levers out of the stakes of the tomb, and with these they vigorously attacked the ponderous mass. Under their united efforts the rock was not long in moving. They dug a sort of groove for it down the side of the mountain, that it might slide on an inclined plane.
As their action increased, the trembling of the earth became more violent. Hollow rumblings and hissings sounded under the thin crust. But the bold experimenters, like real Vulcans, governing the underground fires, worked on in silence. Several cracks and a few gusts of hot smoke warned them that their position was becoming dangerous. But a final effort detached the block, which glided down the slope of the mountain and disappeared.
The thin covering at once yielded. An incandescent column poured forth towards the sky with loud explosions, while streams of boiling water and lava rolled towards the encampment of the natives and the valleys below. The whole peak trembled, and you might almost have thought that it was disappearing in a general conflagration.
Glenarvan and his companions had scarcely time to escape the shock of the eruption. They fled to the enclosure of the tomb, but not without receiving a few scalding drops of the water, which bubbled and exhaled a strong sulphureous odor.
Then mud, lava, and volcanic fragments mingled in the scene of devastation. Torrents of flame furrowed the sides of the Maunganamu. The adjoining mountains glowed in the light of the eruption, and the deep valleys were illumined with a vivid brightness.
The savages were soon aroused, both by the noise and the heat of the lava that flowed in a scalding tide through the midst of their encampment. Those
