“So Neb begins running down my roadstead just as I was thinking to offer it to the United States!” cried Pencroff. “But are its waters deep enough?” asked the engineer. “That is easily seen,” answered the sailor, taking the sounding line, which measured fifty fathoms, and letting it down. It unrolled to the end without touching bottom. “There,” said Pencroff, “our iron-clads could come here without running aground!” “In truth,” said Smith, “this gulf is an abyss; but when we remember the plutonic origin of the island, that is not extraordinary.” “One might think,” said Herbert, “that these walls had been cut with an instrument, and I believe that at their very base, even with a line six times as long, we could not reach the bottom.” “All this is very well,” said the reporter, “but I would suggest that Pencroff’s roadstead lacks one important element.” “What is that?” “A cut, or pathway of some kind, by which one could go inland. I do not see a place where there is even a foothold.” And, indeed, these steep lava walls afforded no landing place on all their circumference. The Good Luck, skirting within touching distance of the lava, found no place where the passengers could disembark. Pencroff consoled himself by saying that they could blow up the wall, if they wanted to, and then, as there was certainly nothing to be done here, he turned towards the narrow opening, which was passed at 2 o’clock. Neb gave a long sigh of relief. It was evident that the brave negro had not been comfortable in those enormous jaws! The sloop was now headed for Granite House, eight miles distant, and, with a fair wind, coasted along within a mile of the shore. The enormous lava rocks were soon succeeded by the oddly-disposed downs, among which the engineer had been so singularly discovered, and the place was covered with sea-birds. Towards 4 o’clock, Pencroff, leaving the islet to the left, entered the channel separating it from the island, and an hour later cast anchor in the Mercy. The colonists had been absent three days. Ayrton was waiting for them on the shore, and Jup came joyously to welcome them, grinning with satisfaction. The entire exploration of the coast had been made, and nothing suspicious had been seen. So that if any mysterious being resided on the island, it must be under cover of the impenetrable woods on Serpentine Peninsula, which the colonists had not, as yet, investigated. Spilett talked the matter over with the engineer, and it was agreed that they should call their comrades’ attention to these strange events, the last one of which was the most inexplicable of all. “Are you sure you saw it, Spilett?” asked Smith, for the twentieth time. “Was it not a partial eruption of the volcano, or some meteor?” “No, Cyrus, it wag certainly a fire lit by the hand of man. For that matter, question Pencroff and Herbert. They saw it also, and they will confirm my words.”