The litter was brought; the transverse branches had been covered with leaves and long grass. Harding was laid on it, and Pencroft, having taken his place at one end and Neb at the other, they started towards the coast. There was a distance of eight miles to be accomplished; but, as they could not go fast, and it would perhaps be necessary to stop frequently, they reckoned that it would take at least six hours to reach the Chimneys. The wind was still strong, but fortunately it did not rain. Although lying down, the engineer, leaning on his elbow, observed the coast, particularly inland. He did not speak, but he gazed; and, no doubt, the appearance of the country, with its inequalities of ground, its forests, its various productions, were impressed on his mind. However, after traveling for two hours, fatigue overcame him, and he slept. At half-past five the little band arrived at the precipice, and a short time after at the Chimneys. They stopped, and the litter was placed on the sand; Cyrus Harding was sleeping profoundly, and did not awake. Pencroft, to his extreme surprise, found that the terrible storm had quite altered the aspect of the place. Important changes had occurred; great blocks of stone lay on the beach, which was also covered with a thick carpet of sea-weed, algae, and wrack. Evidently the sea, passing over the islet, had been carried right up to the foot of the enormous curtain of granite. The soil in front of the cave had been torn away by the violence of the waves. A horrid presentiment flashed across Pencroft’s mind. He rushed into the passage, but returned almost immediately, and stood motionless, staring at his companions.... The fire was out; the drowned cinders were nothing but mud; the burnt linen, which was to have served as tinder, had disappeared! The sea had penetrated to the end of the passages, and everything was overthrown and destroyed in the interior of the Chimneys! Chapter 9 In a few words, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, and Neb were made acquainted with what had happened. This accident, which appeared so very serious to Pencroft, produced different effects on the companions of the honest sailor. Neb, in his delight at having found his master, did not listen, or rather, did not care to trouble himself with what Pencroft was saying. Herbert shared in some degree the sailor’s feelings. As to the reporter, he simply replied,-- “Upon my word, Pencroft, it’s perfectly indifferent to me!” “But, I repeat, that we haven’t any fire!” “Pooh!” “Nor any means of relighting it!” “Nonsense!” “But I say, Mr. Spilett--” “Isn’t Cyrus here?” replied the reporter. “Is not our engineer alive? He will soon find some way of making fire for us!” “With what?” “With nothing.”