Adventure stories; Castaways -- Fiction; Islands of the Pacific -- Fiction; Science fiction
“Yes, as long as we can,” replied Cyrus Harding. “To-morrow, at break of
day, we will leave the canoe, and in two hours I hope we shall cross the
distance which separates us from the coast, and then we shall have the
whole day in which to explore the shore.”
“Go ahead!” replied Pencroft.
But soon the boat grated on the stony bottom of the river, which was
now not more than twenty feet in breadth. The trees met like a bower
overhead, and caused a half-darkness. They also heard the noise of a
waterfall, which showed that a few hundred feet up the river there was a
natural barrier.
Presently, after a sudden turn of the river, a cascade appeared through
the trees. The canoe again touched the bottom, and in a few minutes it
was moored to a trunk near the right bank.
It was nearly five o’clock. The last rays of the sun gleamed through
the thick foliage and glanced on the little waterfall, making the spray
sparkle with all the colors of the rainbow. Beyond that, the Mercy was
lost in the bushwood, where it was fed from some hidden source. The
different streams which flowed into it increased it to a regular river
further down, but here it was simply a shallow, limpid brook.
It was agreed to camp here, as the place was charming. The colonists
disembarked, and a fire was soon lighted under a clump of trees, among
the branches of which Cyrus Harding and his companions could, if it was
necessary, take refuge for the night.
Supper was quickly devoured, for they were very hungry, and then there
was only sleeping to think of. But, as roarings of rather a suspicious
nature had been heard during the evening, a good fire was made up for
the night, so as to protect the sleepers with its crackling flames. Neb
and Pencroft also watched by turns, and did not spare fuel. They thought
they saw the dark forms of some wild animals prowling round the camp
among the bushes, but the night passed without incident, and the next
day, the 31st of October, at five o’clock in the morning, all were on
foot, ready for a start.
Chapter 4
It was six o’ clock in the morning when the settlers, after a hasty
breakfast, set out to reach by the shortest way, the western coast of
the island. And how long would it take to do this? Cyrus Harding
had said two hours, but of course that depended on the nature of the
obstacles they might meet with. As it was probable that they would have
to cut a path through the grass, shrubs, and creepers, they marched axe
in hand, and with guns also ready, wisely taking warning from the cries
of the wild beasts heard in the night.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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