Adventure stories; Castaways -- Fiction; Islands of the Pacific -- Fiction; Science fiction
They returned on board, breakfasted, so that it should not be necessary
to dine until very late; then the repast being ended, the exploration
was continued and conducted with the most minute care. Indeed, it was
very probable that the only inhabitant of the island had perished. It
was therefore more for the traces of a dead than of a living man that
Pencroft and his companions searched. But their searches were vain, and
during the half of that day they sought to no purpose among the thickets
of trees which covered the islet. There was then scarcely any doubt
that, if the castaway was dead, no trace of his body now remained, but
that some wild beast had probably devoured it to the last bone.
“We will set off to-morrow at daybreak,” said Pencroft to his two
companions, as about two o’clock they were resting for a few minutes
under the shade of a clump of firs.
“I should think that we might without scruple take the utensils which
belonged to the castaway,” added Herbert.
“I think so, too,” returned Gideon Spilett, “and these arms and tools
will make up the stores of Granite House. The supply of powder and shot
is also most important.”
“Yes,” replied Pencroft, “but we must not forget to capture a couple or
two of those pigs, of which Lincoln Island is destitute.”
“Nor to gather those seeds,” added Herbert, “which will give us all the
vegetables of the Old and the New Worlds.”
“Then perhaps it would be best,” said the reporter, “to remain a day
longer on Tabor Island, so as to collect all that may be useful to us.”
“No, Mr. Spilett,” answered Pencroft, “I will ask you to set off
to-morrow at daybreak. The wind seems to me to be likely to shift to the
west, and after having had a fair wind for coming we shall have a fair
wind for going back.”
“Then do not let us lose time,” said Herbert, rising.
“We won’t waste time,” returned Pencroft. “You, Herbert, go and gather
the seeds, which you know better than we do. While you do that, Mr.
Spilett and I will go and have a pig hunt, and even without Top I hope
we shall manage to catch a few!”
Herbert accordingly took the path which led towards the cultivated part
of the islet, while the sailor and the reporter entered the forest.
Many specimens of the porcine race fled before them, and these animals,
which were singularly active, did not appear to be in a humor to allow
themselves to be approached.
However, after an hour’s chase, the hunters had just managed to get hold
of a couple lying in a thicket, when cries were heard resounding from
the north part of the island, With the cries were mingled terrible
yells, in which there was nothing human.
Pencroft and Gideon Spilett were at once on their feet, and the pigs
by this movement began to run away, at the moment when the sailor was
getting ready the rope to bind them.
“That’s Herbert’s voice,” said the reporter.
“Run!” exclaimed Pencroft.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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