Castaways -- Fiction; Islands of the Pacific -- Fiction; Science fiction
The _Bonadventure_ sailed along this coast for the distance of half a
mile. It was easy to see that it was composed of blocks of all sizes,
from twenty to three hundred feet in height, and of all shapes, round
like towers, prismatic like steeples, pyramidal like obelisks, conical
like factory chimneys. An iceberg of the Polar seas could not have
been more capricious in its terrible sublimity! Here, bridges were
thrown from one rock to another; there, arches like those of a wave,
into the depths of which the eye could not penetrate; in one place,
large vaulted excavations presented a monumental aspect; in another, a
crowd of columns, spires, and arches, such as no Gothic cathedral ever
possessed. Every caprice of nature, still more varied than those of
the imagination, appeared on this grand coast, which extended over a
length of eight or nine miles.
Cyrus Harding and his companions gazed, with a feeling of surprise
bordering on stupefaction. But, although they remained silent, Top,
not being troubled with feelings of this sort, uttered barks which
were repeated by the thousand echoes of the basaltic cliff. The
engineer even observed that these barks had something strange in them,
like those which the dog had uttered at the mouth of the well in
Granite House.
"Let us go close in," said he.
And the _Bonadventure_ sailed as near as possible to the rocky shore.
Perhaps some cave, which it would be advisable to explore, existed
there? But Harding saw nothing, not a cavern, not a cleft which could
serve as a retreat to any being whatever, for the foot of the cliff
was washed by the surf. Soon Top's barks ceased, and the vessel
continued her course at a few cable-lengths from the coast.
In the north-west part of the island the shore became again flat and
sandy. A few trees here and there rose above a low, marshy ground,
which the colonists had already surveyed; and in violent contrast to
the other desert shore, life was again manifested by the presence of
myriads of water-fowl. That evening the _Bonadventure_ anchored in a
small bay to the north of the island, near the land, such was the
depth of water there. The night passed quietly, for the breeze died
away with the last light of day, and only rose again with the first
streaks of dawn.
As it was easy to land, the usual hunters of the colony, that is to
say, Herbert and Gideon Spilett, went for a ramble of two hours or so,
and returned with several strings of wild duck and snipe. Top had done
wonders, and not a bird had been lost, thanks to his zeal and
cleverness.
At eight o'clock in the morning the _Bonadventure_ set sail, and ran
rapidly towards North Mandible Cape, for the wind was right astern and
freshening rapidly.
"However," observed Pencroft, "I should not be surprised if a gale
came up from the west. Yesterday the sun set in a very red-looking
horizon, and now, this morning, those mares-tails don't forebode
anything good."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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