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Chapter 7


CHAPTER 7

Gideon Spilett was standing motionless on the shore, his arms crossed,
gazing over the sea, the horizon of which was lost towards the east in a
thick black cloud which was spreading rapidly towards the zenith. The wind
was already strong, and increased with the decline of day. The whole sky
was of a threatening aspect, and the first symptoms of a violent storm were
clearly visible.

Herbert entered the Chimneys, and Pencroft went towards the reporter. The
latter, deeply absorbed, did not see him approach.

"We are going to have a dirty night, Mr. Spilett!" said the sailor:
"Petrels delight in wind and rain."

The reporter, turning at the moment, saw Pencroft, and his first words
were,--

"At what distance from the coast would you say the car was, when the
waves carried off our companion?"

The sailor had not expected this question. He reflected an instant and
replied,--

"Two cables lengths at the most."

"But what is a cable's length?" asked Gideon Spilett.

"About a hundred and twenty fathoms, or six hundred feet."

"Then," said the reporter, "Cyrus Harding must have disappeared twelve
hundred feet at the most from the shore?"

"About that," replied Pencroft.

"And his dog also?"

"Also."

"What astonishes me," rejoined the reporter, "while admitting that our
companion has perished, is that Top has also met his death, and that
neither the body of the dog nor of his master has been cast on the shore!"

"It is not astonishing, with such a heavy sea," replied the sailor.
"Besides, it is possible that currents have carried them farther down the
coast."

"Then, it is your opinion that our friend has perished in the waves?"
again asked the reporter.

"That is my opinion."

"My own opinion," said Gideon Spilett, "with due deference to your
experience, Pencroft, is that in the double fact of the absolute
disappearance of Cyrus and Top, living or dead, there is something
unaccountable and unlikely."

"I wish I could think like you, Mr. Spilett," replied Pencroft;
"unhappily, my mind is made up on this point." Having said this, the sailor
returned to the Chimneys. A good fire crackled on the hearth. Herbert had
just thrown on an armful of dry wood, and the flame cast a bright light
into the darkest parts of the passage.

Pencroft immediately began to prepare the dinner. It appeared best to
introduce something solid into the bill of fare, for all needed to get up
their strength. The strings of couroucous were kept for the next day, but
they plucked a couple of grouse, which were soon spitted on a stick, and
roasting before a blazing fire.

At seven in the evening Neb had not returned. The prolonged absence of
the Negro made Pencroft very uneasy. It was to be feared that he had met
with an accident on this unknown land, or that the unhappy fellow had been
driven to some act of despair. But Herbert drew very different conclusions
from this absence. According to him, Neb's delay was caused by some new
circumstances which had induced him to prolong his search. Also, everything
new must be to the advantage of Cyrus Harding. Why had Neb not returned
unless hope still detained him? Perhaps he had found some mark, a footstep,
a trace which had put him in the right path. Perhaps he was at this moment
on a certain track. Perhaps even he was near his master.

Thus the lad reasoned. Thus he spoke. His companions let him talk. The
reporter alone approved with a gesture. But what Pencroft thought most
probable was, that Neb had pushed his researches on the shore farther than
the day before, and that he had not as yet had time to return.

Herbert, however, agitated by vague presentiments, several times
manifested an intention to go to meet Neb. But Pencroft assured him that
that would be a useless course, that in the darkness and deplorable weather
he could not find any traces of Neb, and that it would be much better to
wait. If Neb had not made his appearance by the next day, Pencroft would
not hesitate to join him in his search.

Gideon Spilett approved of the sailor's opinion that it was best not to
divide, and Herbert was obliged to give up his project; but two large tears
fell from his eyes.

The reporter could not refrain from embracing the generous boy.

Bad weather now set in. A furious gale from the southeast passed over the
coast. The sea roared as it beat over the reef. Heavy rain was dashed by
the storm into particles like dust. Ragged masses of vapor drove along the
beach, on which the tormented shingles sounded as if poured out in cart-
loads, while the sand raised by the wind added as it were mineral dust to
that which was liquid, and rendered the united attack insupportable.
Between the river's mouth and the end of the cliff, eddies of wind whirled
and gusts from this maelstrom lashed the water which ran through the
narrow valley. The smoke from the fireplace was also driven back through
the opening, filling the passages and rendering them uninhabitable.

Therefore, as the grouse were cooked, Pencroft let the fire die away, and
only preserved a few embers buried under the ashes.

At eight o'clock Neb had not appeared, but there was no doubt that the
frightful weather alone hindered his return, and that he must have taken
refuge in some cave, to await the end of the storm or at least the return
of day. As to going to meet him, or attempting to find him, it was
impossible.

The game constituted the only dish at supper; the meat was excellent, and
Pencroft and Herbert, whose long excursion had rendered them very hungry,
devoured it with infinite satisfaction.

Their meal concluded, each retired to the corner in which he had rested
the preceding night, and Herbert was not long in going to sleep near the
sailor, who had stretched himself beside the fireplace.

Outside, as the night advanced, the tempest also increased in strength,
until it was equal to that which had carried the prisoners from Richmond to
this land in the Pacific. The tempests which are frequent during the
seasons of the equinox, and which are so prolific in catastrophes, are
above all terrible over this immense ocean, which opposes no obstacle to
their fury. No description can give an idea of the terrific violence of
the gale as it beat upon the unprotected coast.

Happily the pile of rocks which formed the Chimneys was solid. It was
composed of enormous blocks of granite, a few of which, insecurely
balanced, seemed to tremble on their foundations, and Pencroft could feel
rapid quiverings under his head as it rested on the rock. But he repeated
to himself, and rightly, that there was nothing to fear, and that their
retreat would not give way. However he heard the noise of stones torn from
the summit of the plateau by the wind, falling down on to the beach. A few
even rolled on to the upper part of the Chimneys, or flew off in fragments
when they were projected perpendicularly. Twice the sailor rose and
intrenched himself at the opening of the passage, so as to take a look in
safety at the outside. But there was nothing to be feared from these
showers, which were not considerable, and he returned to his couch before
the fireplace, where the embers glowed beneath the ashes.

Notwithstanding the fury of the hurricane, the uproar of the tempest, the
thunder, and the tumult, Herbert slept profoundly. Sleep at last took
possession of Pencroft, whom a seafaring life had habituated to anything.
Gideon Spilett alone was kept awake by anxiety. He reproached himself with
not having accompanied Neb. It was evident that he had not abandoned all
hope. The presentiments which had troubled Herbert did not cease to agitate
him also. His thoughts were concentrated on Neb. Why had Neb not returned?
He tossed about on his sandy couch, scarcely giving a thought to the
struggle of the elements. Now and then, his eyes, heavy with fatigue,
closed for an instant, but some sudden thought reopened them almost
immediately.

Meanwhile the night advanced, and it was perhaps two hours from morning,
when Pencroft, then sound asleep, was vigorously shaken.

"What's the matter?" he cried, rousing himself, and collecting his ideas
with the promptitude usual to seamen.

The reporter was leaning over him, and saying,--

"Listen, Pencroft, listen!"

The sailor strained his ears, but could hear no noise beyond those caused
by the storm.

"It is the wind," said he.

"No," replied Gideon Spilett, listening again, "I thought I heard--"

"What?"

"The barking of a dog!"

"A dog!" cried Pencroft, springing up.

"Yes--barking--"

"It's not possible!" replied the sailor. "And besides, how, in the
roaring of the storm--"

"Stop--listen--" said the reporter.

Pencroft listened more attentively, and really thought he heard, during a
lull, distant barking.

"Well!" said the reporter, pressing the sailor's hand.

"Yes--yes!" replied Pencroft.

"It is Top! It is Top!" cried Herbert, who had just awoke; and all three
rushed towards the opening of the Chimneys. They had great difficulty in
getting out. The wind drove them back. But at last they succeeded, and
could only remain standing by leaning against the rocks. They looked about,
but could not speak. The darkness was intense. The sea, the sky, the land
were all mingled in one black mass. Not a speck of light was visible.

The reporter and his companions remained thus for a few minutes,
overwhelmed by the wind, drenched by the rain, blinded by the sand.

Then, in a pause of the tumult, they again heard the barking, which they
found must be at some distance.

It could only be Top! But was he alone or accompanied? He was most
probably alone, for, if Neb had been with him, he would have made his way
more directly towards the Chimneys. The sailor squeezed the reporter's
hand, for he could not make himself heard, in a way which signified "Wait!"
then he reentered the passage.

An instant after he issued with a lighted fagot, which he threw into the
darkness, whistling shrilly.

It appeared as if this signal had been waited for; the barking
immediately came nearer, and soon a dog bounded into the passage. Pencroft,
Herbert, and Spilett entered after him.

An armful of dry wood was thrown on the embers. The passage was lighted
up with a bright flame.

"It is Top!" cried Herbert.

It was indeed Top, a magnificent Anglo-Norman, who derived from these two
races crossed the swiftness of foot and the acuteness of smell which are
the preeminent qualities of coursing dogs. It was the dog of the engineer,
Cyrus Harding. But he was alone! Neither Neb nor his master accompanied
him!

How was it that his instinct had guided him straight to the Chimneys,
which he did not know? It appeared inexplicable, above all, in the midst of
this black night and in such a tempest! But what was still more
inexplicable was, that Top was neither tired, nor exhausted, nor even
soiled with mud or sand!--Herbert had drawn him towards him, and was
patting his head, the dog rubbing his neck against the lad's hands.

"If the dog is found, the master will be found also!" said the reporter.

"God grant it!" responded Herbert. "Let us set off! Top will guide us!"

Pencroft did not make any objection. He felt that Top's arrival
contradicted his conjectures. "Come along then!" said he.

Pencroft carefully covered the embers on the hearth. He placed a few
pieces of wood among them, so as to keep in the fire until their return.
Then, preceded by the dog, who seemed to invite them by short barks to come
with him, and followed by the reporter and the boy, he dashed out, after
having put up in his handkerchief the remains of the supper.

The storm was then in all its violence, and perhaps at its height. Not a
single ray of light from the moon pierced through the clouds. To follow a
straight course was difficult. It was best to rely on Top's instinct. They
did so. The reporter and Herbert walked behind the dog, and the sailor
brought up the rear. It was impossible to exchange a word. The rain was not
very heavy, but the wind was terrific.

However, one circumstance favored the seaman and his two companions. The
wind being southeast, consequently blew on their backs. The clouds of sand,
which otherwise would have been insupportable, from being received behind,
did not in consequence impede their progress. In short, they sometimes went
faster than they liked, and had some difficulty in keeping their feet; but
hope gave them strength, for it was not at random that they made their way
along the shore. They had no doubt that Neb had found his master, and that
he had sent them the faithful dog. But was the engineer living, or had Neb
only sent for his companions that they might render the last duties to the
corpse of the unfortunate Harding?

After having passed the precipice, Herbert, the reporter, and Pencroft
prudently stepped aside to stop and take breath. The turn of the rocks
sheltered them from the wind, and they could breathe after this walk or
rather run of a quarter of an hour.

They could now hear and reply to each other, and the lad having
pronounced the name of Cyrus Harding, Top gave a few short barks, as much
as to say that his master was saved.

"Saved, isn't he?" repeated Herbert; "saved, Top?"

And the dog barked in reply.

They once more set out. The tide began to rise, and urged by the wind it
threatened to be unusually high, as it was a spring tide. Great billows
thundered against the reef with such violence that they probably passed
entirely over the islet, then quite invisible. The mole no longer protected
the coast, which was directly exposed to the attacks of the open sea.

As soon as the sailor and his companions left the precipice, the wind
struck them again with renewed fury. Though bent under the gale they walked
very quickly, following Top, who did not hesitate as to what direction to
take.

They ascended towards the north, having on their left an interminable
extent of billows, which broke with a deafening noise, and on their right a
dark country, the aspect of which it was impossible to guess. But they felt
that it was comparatively flat, for the wind passed completely over them,
without being driven back as it was when it came in contact with the cliff.

At four o'clock in the morning, they reckoned that they had cleared about
five miles. The clouds were slightly raised, and the wind, though less
damp, was very sharp and cold. Insufficiently protected by their clothing,
Pencroft, Herbert and Spilett suffered cruelly, but not a complaint escaped
their lips. They were determined to follow Top, wherever the intelligent
animal wished to lead them.

Towards five o'clock day began to break. At the zenith, where the fog was
less thick, gray shades bordered the clouds; under an opaque belt, a
luminous line clearly traced the horizon. The crests of the billows were
tipped with a wild light, and the foam regained its whiteness. At the same
time on the left the hilly parts of the coast could be seen, though very
indistinctly.

At six o'clock day had broken. The clouds rapidly lifted. The seaman and
his companions were then about six miles from the Chimneys. They were
following a very flat shore bounded by a reef of rocks, whose heads
scarcely emerged from the sea, for they were in deep water. On the left,
the country appeared to be one vast extent of sandy downs, bristling with
thistles. There was no cliff, and the shore offered no resistance to the
ocean but a chain of irregular hillocks. Here and there grew two or three
trees, inclined towards the west, their branches projecting in that
direction. Quite behind, in the southwest, extended the border of the
forest.

At this moment, Top became very excited. He ran forward, then returned,
and seemed to entreat them to hasten their steps. The dog then left the
beach, and guided by his wonderful instinct, without showing the least
hesitation, went straight in among the downs. They followed him. The
country appeared an absolute desert. Not a living creature was to be seen.

The downs, the extent of which was large, were composed of hillocks and
even of hills, very irregularly distributed. They resembled a Switzerland
modeled in sand, and only an amazing instinct could have possibly
recognized the way.

Five minutes after having left the beach, the reporter and his two
companions arrived at a sort of excavation, hollowed out at the back of a
high mound. There Top stopped, and gave a loud, clear bark. Spilett,
Herbert, and Pencroft dashed into the cave.

Neb was there, kneeling beside a body extended on a bed of grass.

The body was that of the engineer, Cyrus Harding.


Jules Verne