The Mysterious Island
by
Jules Verne
Part 12 out of 12
"Good!" replied Pencroft, with an attempt at pleasantry. "The sea will
extinguish the volcano, and there will be an end of the matter!"
"Not so!" said Cyrus Harding, "should a day arrive when the sea, rushing
through the wall of the cavern, penetrates by the central shaft into the
interior of the island to the boiling lava, Lincoln Island will that day be
blown into the air--just as would happen to the island of Sicily were the
Mediterranean to precipitate itself into Mount Etna."
The colonists made no answer to these significant words of the engineer.
They now understood the danger by which they were menaced.
It may be added that Cyrus Harding had in no way exaggerated the danger
to be apprehended. Many persons have formed an idea that it would be
possible to extinguish volcanoes, which are almost always situated on the
shores of a sea or lake, by opening a passage for the admission of the
water. But they are not aware that this would be to incur the risk of
blowing up a portion of the globe, like a boiler whose steam is suddenly
expanded by intense heat. The water, rushing into a cavity whose
temperature might be estimated at thousands of degrees, would be converted
into steam with a sudden energy which no enclosure could resist.
It was not therefore doubtful that the island, menaced by a frightful and
approaching convulsion, would endure only so long as the wall of Dakkar
Grotto itself should endure. It was not even a question of months, nor of
weeks, but of days; it might be of hours.
The first sentiment which the colonists felt was that of profound sorrow.
They thought not so much of the peril which menaced themselves personally,
but of the destruction of the island which had sheltered them, which they
had cultivated, which they loved so well, and had hoped to render so
flourishing. So much effort ineffectually expended, so much labor lost.
Pencroft could not prevent a large tear from rolling down his cheek, nor
did he attempt to conceal it.
Some further conversation now took place. The chances yet in favor of the
colonists were discussed; but finally it was agreed that there was not an
hour to be lost, that the building and fitting of the vessel should be
pushed forward with their utmost energy, and that this was the sole chance
of safety for the inhabitants of Lincoln Island.
All hands, therefore, set to work on the vessel. What could it avail to
sow, to reap, to hunt, to increase the stores of Granite House? The
contents of the storehouse and outbuildings contained more than sufficient
to provide the ship for a voyage, however long might be its duration. But
it was imperative that the ship should be ready to receive them before the
inevitable catastrophe should arrive.
Their labors were now carried on with feverish ardor. By the 23rd of
January the vessel was half-decked over. Up to this time no change had
taken place on the summit of the volcano. Vapor and smoke mingled with
flames and incandescent stones were thrown up from the crater. But during
the night of the 23rd, in consequence of the lava attaining the level of
the first stratum of the volcano, the hat-shaped cone which formed over the
latter disappeared. A frightful sound was heard. The colonists at first
thought the island was rent asunder, and rushed out of Granite House.
This occurred about two o'clock in the morning.
The sky appeared on fire. The superior cone, a mass of rock a thousand
feet in height, and weighing thousands of millions of pounds, had been
thrown down upon the island, making it tremble to its foundation.
Fortunately, this cone inclined to the north, and had fallen upon the plain
of sand and tufa stretching between the volcano and the sea. The aperture
of the crater being thus enlarged projected towards the sky a glare so
intense that by the simple effect of reflection the atmosphere appeared
red-hot. At the same time a torrent of lava, bursting from the new summit,
poured out in long cascades, like water escaping from a vase too full, and
a thousand tongues of fire crept over the sides of the volcano.
"The corral! the corral!" exclaimed Ayrton.
It was, in fact, towards the corral that the lava was rushing as the new
crater faced the east, and consequently the fertile portions of the island,
the springs of Red Creek and Jacamar Wood, were menaced with instant
destruction.
At Ayrton's cry the colonists rushed to the onagers' stables. The cart
was at once harnessed. All were possessed by the same thought--to hasten to
the corral and set at liberty the animals it enclosed.
Before three in the morning they arrived at the corral. The cries of the
terrified musmons and goats indicated the alarm which possessed them.
Already a torrent of burning matter and liquefied minerals fell from the
side of the mountain upon the meadows as far as the side of the palisade.
The gate was burst open by Ayrton, and the animals, bewildered with terror,
fled in all directions.
An hour afterwards the boiling lava filled the corral, converting into
vapor the water of the little rivulet which ran through it, burning up the
house like dry grass, and leaving not even a post of the palisade to mark
the spot where the corral once stood.
To contend against this disaster would have been folly--nay, madness. In
presence of Nature's grand convulsions man is powerless.
It was now daylight--the 24th of January. Cyrus Harding and his
companions, before returning to Granite House, desired to ascertain the
probable direction this inundation of lava was about to take. The soil
sloped gradually from Mount Franklin to the east coast, and it was to be
feared that, in spite of the thick Jacamar Wood, the torrent would reach
the plateau of Prospect Heights.
"The lake will cover us," said Gideon Spilett.
"I hope so!" was Cyrus Harding's only reply.
The colonists were desirous of reaching the plain upon which the superior
cone of Mount Franklin had fallen, but the lava arrested their progress. It
had followed, on one side, the valley of Red Creek, and on the other that
of Falls River, evaporating those watercourses in its passage. There was no
possibility of crossing the torrent of lava; on the contrary, the colonists
were obliged to retreat before it. The volcano, without its crown, was no
longer recognizable, terminated as it was by a sort of flat table which
replaced the ancient crater. From two openings in its southern and eastern
sides an unceasing flow of lava poured forth, thus forming two distinct
streams. Above the new crater a cloud of smoke and ashes, mingled with
those of the atmosphere, massed over the island. Loud peals of thunder
broke, and could scarcely be distinguished from the rumblings of the
mountain, whose mouth vomited forth ignited rocks, which, hurled to more
than a thousand feet, burst in the air like shells. Flashes of lightning
rivaled in intensity the volcano's eruption.
Towards seven in the morning the position was no longer tenable by the
colonists, who accordingly took shelter in the borders of Jacamar Wood. Not
only did the projectiles begin to rain around them, but the lava,
overflowing the bed of Red Creek, threatened to cut off the road to the
corral. The nearest rows of trees caught fire, and their sap, suddenly
transformed into vapor, caused them to explode with loud reports, while
others, less moist, remained unhurt in the midst of the inundation.
The colonists had again taken the road to the corral. They proceeded but
slowly, frequently looking back; but, in consequence of the inclination of
the soil, the lava gained rapidly in the east, and as its lower waves
became solidified others, at boiling heat, covered them immediately.
Meanwhile, the principal stream of Red Creek Valley became more and more
menacing. All this portion of the forest was on fare, and enormous wreaths
of smoke rolled over the trees, whore trunks were already consumed by the
lava.
The colonists halted near the lake, about half a mile from the mouth of
Red Creek. A question of life or death was now to be decided.
Cyrus Harding, accustomed to the consideration of important crises, and
aware that he was addressing men capable of hearing the truth, whatever it
might be, then said,--
"Either the lake will arrest the progress of the lava, and a part of the
island will be preserved from utter destruction, or the stream will overrun
the forests of the Far West, and not a tree or plant will remain on the
surface of the soil. We shall have no prospect but that of starvation upon
these barren rocks--a death which will probably be anticipated by the
explosion of the island."
"In that case," replied Pencroft, folding his arms and stamping his foot,
"what's the use of working any longer on the vessel?"
"Pencroft," answered Cyrus Harding, "we must do our duty to the last!"
At this instant the river of lava, after having broken a passage through
the noble trees it devoured in its course, reached the borders of the lake.
At this point there was an elevation of the soil which, had it been
greater, might have sufficed to arrest the torrent.
"To work!" cried Cyrus Harding.
The engineer's thought was at once understood. it might be possible to
dam, as it were, the torrent, and thus compel it to pour itself into the
lake.
The colonists hastened to the dockyard. They returned with shovels,
picks, axes, and by means of banking the earth with the aid of fallen trees
they succeeded in a few hours in raising an embankment three feet high and
some hundreds of paces in length. It seemed to them, when they had
finished, as if they had scarcely been working more than a few minutes.
It was not a moment too soon. The liquefied substances soon after reached
the bottom of the barrier. The stream of lava swelled like a river about to
overflow its banks, and threatened to demolish the sole obstacle which
could prevent it from overrunning the whole Far West. But the dam held
firm, and after a moment of terrible suspense the torrent precipitated
itself into Grant Lake from a height of twenty feet.
The colonists, without moving or uttering a word, breathlessly regarded
this strife of the two elements.
What a spectacle was this conflict between water and fire! What pen could
describe the marvelous horror of this scene--what pencil could depict it?
The water hissed as it evaporated by contact with the boiling lava. The
vapor whirled in the air to an immeasurable height, as if the valves of an
immense boiler had been suddenly opened. But, however considerable might be
the volume of water contained in the lake, it must eventually be absorbed,
because it was not replenished, while the stream of lava, fed from an
inexhaustible source, rolled on without ceasing new waves of incandescent
matter.
The first waves of lava which fell in the lake immediately solidified and
accumulated so as speedily to emerge from it. Upon their surface fell other
waves, which in their turn became stone, but a step nearer the center of
the lake. In this manner was formed a pier which threatened to gradually
fill up the lake, which could not overflow, the water displaced by the lava
being evaporated. The hissing of the water rent the air with a deafening
sound, and the vapor, blown by the wind, fell in rain upon the sea. The
pier became longer and longer, and the blocks of lava piled themselves one
on another. Where formerly stretched the calm waters of the lake now
appeared an enormous mass of smoking rocks, as if an upheaving of the soil
had formed immense shoals. Imagine the waters of the lake aroused by a
hurricane, then suddenly solidified by an intense frost, and some
conception may be formed of the aspect of the lake three hours alter the
eruption of this irresistible torrent of lava.
This time water would be vanquished by fire.
Nevertheless it was a fortunate circumstance for the colonists that the
effusion of lava should have been in the direction of Lake Grant. They had
before them some days' respite. The plateau of Prospect Heights, Granite
House, and the dockyard were for the moment preserved. And these few days
it was necessary to employ in planking and carefully calking the vessel,
and launching her. The colonists would then take refuge on board the
vessel, content to rig her after she should be afloat on the waters. With
the danger of an explosion which threatened to destroy the island there
could be no security on shore. The walls of Granite House, once so sure a
retreat, might at any moment fall in upon them.
During the six following days, from the 25th to the 30th of January, the
colonists accomplished as much of the construction of their vessel as
twenty men could have done. They hardly allowed themselves a moment's
repose, and the glare of the flames which shot from the crater enabled them
to work night and day. The flow of lava continued, but perhaps less
abundantly. This was fortunate, for Lake Grant was almost entirely choked
up, and if more lava should accumulate it would inevitably spread over the
plateau of Prospect Heights, and thence upon the beach.
But if the island was thus partially protected on this side, it was not
so with the western part.
In fact, the second stream of lava, which had followed the valley of
Falls River, a valley of great extent, the land on both sides of the creek
being flat, met with no obstacle. The burning liquid had then spread
through the forest of the Far West. At this period of the year, when the
trees were dried up by a tropical heat, the forest caught fire
instantaneously, in such a manner that the conflagration extended itself
both by the trunks of the trees and by their higher branches, whose
interlacement favored its progress. It even appeared that the current of
flame spread more rapidly among the summits of the trees than the current
of lava at their bases.
Thus it happened that the wild animals, jaguars, wild boars, capybaras,
koalas, and game of every kind, mad with terror, had fled to the banks of
the Mercy and to the Tadorn Marsh, beyond the road to Port Balloon. But the
colonists were too much occupied with their task to pay any attention to
even the most formidable of these animals. They had abandoned Granite
House, and would not even take shelter at the Chimneys, but encamped under
a tent, near the mouth of the Mercy.
Each day Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett ascended the plateau of
Prospect Heights. Sometimes Herbert accompanied them, but never Pencroft,
who could not bear to look upon the prospect of the island now so utterly
devastated.
It was, in truth, a heart-rending spectacle. All the wooded part of the
island was now completely bare. One single clump of green trees raised
their heads at the extremity of Serpentine Peninsula. Here and there were a
few grotesque blackened and branchless stumps. The side of the devastated
forest was even more barren than Tadorn Marsh. The eruption of lava had
been complete. Where formerly sprang up that charming verdure, the soil was
now nothing but a savage mass of volcanic tufa. In the valleys of the Falls
and Mercy rivers no drop of water now flowed towards the sea, and should
Lake Grant be entirely dried up, the colonists would have no means of
quenching their thirst. But, fortunately the lava had spared the southern
corner of the lake, containing all that remained of the drinking water of
the island. Towards the northwest stood out the rugged and well-defined
outlines of the sides of the volcano, like a gigantic claw hovering over
the island. What a sad and fearful sight, and how painful to the colonists,
who, from a fertile domain covered with forests, irrigated by watercourses,
and enriched by the produce of their toils, found themselves, as it were,
transported to a desolate rock, upon which, but for their reserves of
provisions, they could not even gather the means of subsistence!
"It is enough to break one's heart!" said Gideon Spilett, one day.
"Yes, Spilett," answered the engineer. "May God grant us the time to
complete this vessel, now our sole refuge!"
"Do not you think, Cyrus, that the violence of the eruption has somewhat
lessened? The volcano still vomits forth lava, but somewhat less
abundantly, if I mistake not."
"It matters little," answered Cyrus Harding. "The fire is still burning
in the interior of the mountain, and the sea may break in at any moment. We
are in the condition of passengers whose ship is devoured by a
conflagration which they cannot extinguish, and who know that sooner or
later the flames must reach the powder-magazine. To work, Spilett, to work,
and let us not lose an hour!"
During eight days more, that is to say until the 7th of February, the
lava continued to flow, but the eruption was confined within the previous
limits. Cyrus Harding feared above all lest the liquefied matter should
overflow the shore, for in that event the dockyard could not escape.
Moreover, about this time the colonists felt in the frame of the island
vibrations which alarmed them to the highest degree.
It was the 20th of February. Yet another month must elapse before the
vessel would be ready for sea. Would the island hold together till then?
The intention of Pencroft and Cyrus Harding was to launch the vessel as
soon as the hull should be complete. The deck, the upperworks, the interior
woodwork and the rigging might be finished afterwards, but the essential
point was that the colonists should have an assured refuge away from the
island. Perhaps it might be even better to conduct the vessel to Port
Balloon, that is to say, as far as possible from the center of eruption,
for at the mouth of the Mercy, between the islet and the wall of granite,
it would run the risk of being crushed in the event of any convulsion. All
the exertions of the voyagers were therefore concentrated upon the
completion of the hull.
Thus the 3rd of March arrived, and they might calculate upon launching
the vessel in ten days.
Hope revived in the hearts of the colonists, who had, in this fourth year
of their sojourn on Lincoln island, suffered so many trials. Even Pencroft
lost in some measure the somber taciturnity occasioned by the devastation
and ruin of his domain. His hopes, it is true, were concentrated upon his
vessel.
"We shall finish it," he said to the engineer, "we shall finish it,
captain, and it is time, for the season is advancing and the equinox will
soon be here. Well, if necessary, we must put in to Tabor island to spend
the winter. But think of Tabor island after Lincoln Island. Ah, how
unfortunate! Who could have believed it possible?"
"Let us get on," was the engineer's invariable reply.
And they worked away without losing a moment.
"Master," asked Neb, a few days later, "do you think all this could have
happened if Captain Nemo had been still alive?"
"Certainly, Neb," answered Cyrus Harding.
"I, for one, don't believe it!" whispered Pencroft to Neb.
"Nor I!" answered Neb seriously.
During the first week of March appearances again became menacing.
Thousands of threads like glass, formed of fluid lava, fell like rain upon
the island. The crater was again boiling with lava which overflowed the
back of the volcano. The torrent flowed along the surface of the hardened
tufa, and destroyed the few meager skeletons of trees which had withstood
the first eruption. The stream, flowing this time towards the southwest
shore of Lake Grant, stretched beyond Creek Glycerine, and invaded the
plateau of Prospect Heights. This last blow to the work of the colonists
was terrible. The mill, the buildings of the inner court, the stables, were
all destroyed. The affrighted poultry fled in all directions. Top and Jup
showed signs of the greatest alarm, as if their instinct warned them of an
impending catastrophe. A large number of the animals of the island had
perished in the first eruption. Those which survived found no refuge but
Tadorn Marsh, save a few to which the plateau of Prospect Heights afforded
asylum. But even this last retreat was now closed to them, and the lava-
torrent, flowing over the edge of the granite wall, began to pour down upon
the beach its cataracts of fire. The sublime horror of this spectacle
passed all description. During the night it could only be compared to a
Niagara of molten fluid, with its incandescent vapors above and its boiling
masses below.
The colonists were driven to their last entrenchment, and although the
upper seams of the vessel were not yet calked, they decided to launch her
at once.
Pencroft and Ayrton therefore set about the necessary preparations for
the launching, which was to take place the morning of the next day, the 9th
of March.
But during the night of the 8th an enormous column of vapor escaping from
the crater rose with frightful explosions to a height of more than three
thousand feet. The wall of Dakkar Grotto had evidently given way under the
pressure of gases, and the sea, rushing through the central shalt into the
igneous gulf, was at once converted into vapor. But the crater could not
afford a sufficient outlet for this vapor. An explosion, which might have
been heard at a distance of a hundred miles, shook the air. Fragments of
mountains fell into the Pacific, and, in a few minutes, the ocean rolled
over the spot where Lincoln island once stood.
Chapter 20
An isolated rock, thirty feet in length, twenty in breadth, scarcely ten
from the water's edge, such was the only solid point which the waves of the
Pacific had not engulfed.
It was all that remained of the structure of Granite House! The wall had
fallen headlong and been then shattered to fragments, and a few of the
rocks of the large room were piled one above another to form this point.
All around had disappeared in the abyss; the inferior cone of Mount
Franklin, rent asunder by the explosion; the lava jaws of Shark Gulf, the
plateau of Prospect Heights, Safety Islet, the granite rocks of Port
Balloon, the basalts of Dakkar Grotto, the long Serpentine Peninsula, so
distant nevertheless from the center of the eruption. All that could now be
seen of Lincoln Island was the narrow rock which now served as a refuge to
the six colonists and their dog Top.
The animals had also perished in the catastrophe; the birds, as well as
those representing the fauna of the island--all either crushed or drowned,
and the unfortunate Jup himself had, alas! found his death in some crevice
of the soil.
If Cyrus Harding, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, Pencroft, Neb, and Ayrton had
survived, it was because, assembled under their tent, they had been hurled
into the sea at the instant when the fragments of the island rained down on
every side.
When they reached the surface they could only perceive, at half a cable's
length, this mass of rocks, towards which they swam and on which they found
footing.
On this barren rock they had now existed for nine days. A few provisions
taken from the magazine of Granite House before the catastrophe, a little
fresh water from the rain which had fallen in a hollow of the rock, was all
that the unfortunate colonists possessed. Their last hope, the vessel, had
been shattered to pieces. They had no means of quitting the reef; no fire,
nor any means of obtaining it. It seemed that they must inevitably perish.
This day, the 18th of March, there remained only provisions for two days,
although they limited their consumption to the bare necessaries of life.
All their science and intelligence could avail them nothing in their
present position. They were in the hand of God.
Cyrus Harding was calm, Gideon Spilett more nervous, and Pencroft, a prey
to sullen anger, walked to and fro on the rock. Herbert did not for a
moment quit the engineer's side, as if demanding from him that assistance
he had no power to give. Neb and Ayrton were resigned to their fate.
"Ah, what a misfortune! what a misfortune!" often repeated Pencroft. "If
we had but a walnut-shell to take us to Tabor Island! But we have nothing,
nothing!"
"Captain Nemo did right to die," said Neb.
During the five ensuing days Cyrus Harding and his unfortunate companions
husbanded their provisions with the most extreme care, eating only what
would prevent them from dying of starvation. Their weakness was extreme.
Herbert and Neb began to show symptoms of delirium.
Under these circumstances was it possible for them to retain even the
shadow of a hope? No! What was their sole remaining chance? That a vessel
should appear in sight of the rock? But they knew only too well from
experience that no ships ever visited this part of the Pacific. Could they
calculate that, by a truly providential coincidence, the Scotch yacht would
arrive precisely at this time in search of Ayrton at Tabor Island? It was
scarcely probable; and, besides, supposing she should come there, as the
colonists had not been able to deposit a notice pointing out Ayrton's
change of abode, the commander of the yacht, after having explored Tabor
Island without results, would again set sail and return to lower latitudes.
No! no hope of being saved could be retained, and a horrible death, death
from hunger and thirst, awaited them upon this rock.
Already they were stretched on the rock, inanimate, and no longer
conscious of what passed around them. Ayrton alone, by a supreme effort,
from time to time raised his head, and cast a despairing glance over the
desert ocean.
But on the morning of the 24th of March Ayrton's arms were extended
toward a point in the horizon; he raised himself, at first on his knees,
then upright, and his hand seemed to make a signal.
A sail was in sight off the rock. She was evidently not without an
object. The reef was the mark for which she was making in a direct line,
under all steam, and the unfortunate colonists might have made her out some
hours before if they had had the strength to watch the horizon.
"The 'Duncan'!" murmured Ayrton--and fell back without sign of life.
When Cyrus Harding and his companions recovered consciousness, thanks to
the attention lavished upon them, they found themselves in the cabin of a
steamer, without being able to comprehend how they had escaped death.
A word from Ayrton explained everything.
"The 'Duncan'!" he murmured.
"The 'Duncan'!" exclaimed Cyrus Harding. And raising his hand to Heaven,
he said, "Oh! Almighty God! mercifully hast Thou preserved us!"
It was, in fact, the "Duncan," Lord Glenarvan's yacht, now commanded by
Robert, son of Captain Grant, who had been despatched to Tabor Island to
find Ayrton, and bring him back to his native land alter twelve years of
expiation.
The colonists were not only saved, but already on the way to their native
country.
"Captain Grant," asked Cyrus Harding, "who can have suggested to you the
idea, after having left Tabor Island, where you did not find Ayrton, of
coming a hundred miles farther northeast?"
"Captain Harding," replied Robert Grant, "it was in order to find, not
only Ayrton, but yourself and your companions."
"My companions and myself?"
"Doubtless, at Lincoln Island."
"At Lincoln Island!" exclaimed in a breath Gideon Spilett, Herbert, Neb,
and Pencroft, in the highest degree astonished.
"How could you be aware of the existence of Lincoln Island?" inquired
Cyrus Harding, "it is not even named in the charts."
"I knew of it from a document left by you on Tabor Island," answered
Robert Grant.
"A document!" cried Gideon Spilett.
"Without doubt, and here it is," answered Robert Grant, producing a paper
which indicated the longitude and latitude of Lincoln Island, "the present
residence of Ayrton and five American colonists."
"It is Captain Nemo!" cried Cyrus Harding, after having read the notice,
and recognized that the handwriting was similar to that of the paper found
at the corral.
"Ah!" said Pencroft, "it was then he who took our 'Bonadventure' and
hazarded himself alone to go to Tabor Island!"
"In order to leave this notice," added Herbert.
"I was then right in saying," exclaimed the sailor, "that even after his
death the captain would render us a last service."
"My friends," said Cyrus Harding, in a voice of the profoundest emotion,
"may the God of mercy have had pity on the soul of Captain Nemo, our
benefactor."
The colonists uncovered themselves at these last words of Cyrus Harding,
and murmured the name of Captain Nemo.
Then Ayrton, approaching the engineer, said simply, "Where should this
coffer be deposited?"
It was the coffer which Ayrton had saved at the risk of his life, at the
very instant that the island had been engulfed, and which he now faithfully
handed to the engineer.
"Ayrton! Ayrton!" said Cyrus Harding, deeply touched. Then, addressing
Robert Grant, "Sir," he added, "you left behind you a criminal; you find in
his place a man who has become honest by penitence, and whose hand I am
proud to clasp in mine."
Robert Grant was now made acquainted with the strange history of Captain
Nemo and the colonists of Lincoln Island. Then, observation being taken of
what remained of this shoal, which must henceforward figure on the charts
of the Pacific, the order was given to make all sail.
A few weeks afterwards the colonists landed in America, and found their
country once more at peace alter the terrible conflict in which right and
justice had triumphed.
Of the treasures contained in the coffer left by Captain Nemo to the
colonists of Lincoln Island, the larger portion was employed in the
purchase of a vast territory in the State of Iowa. One pearl alone, the
finest, was reserved from the treasure and sent to Lady Glenarvan in the
name of the castaways restored to their country by the "Duncan."
There, upon this domain, the colonists invited to labor, that is to say,
to wealth and happiness, all those to whom they had hoped to offer the
hospitality of Lincoln Island. There was founded a vast colony to which
they gave the name of that island sunk beneath the waters of the Pacific. A
river there was called the Mercy, a mountain took the name of Mount
Franklin, a small lake was named Lake Grant, and the forests became the
forests of the Far West. It might have been an island on terra firma.
There, under the intelligent hands of the engineer and his companions,
everything prospered. Not one of the former colonists of Lincoln Island was
absent, for they had sworn to live always together. Neb was with his
master; Ayrton was there ready to sacrifice himself for all; Pencroft was
more a farmer than he had ever been a sailor; Herbert, who completed his
studies under the superintendence of Cyrus Harding, and Gideon Spilett, who
founded the New Lincoln Herald, the best-informed journal in the world.
There Cyrus Harding and his companions received at intervals visits from
Lord and Lady Glenarvan, Captain John Mangles and his wife, the sister of
Robert Grant, Robert Grant himself, Major McNab, and all those who had
taken part in the history both of Captain Grant and Captain Nemo.
There, to conclude, all were happy, united in the present as they had
been in the past; but never could they forget that island upon which they
had arrived poor and friendless, that island which, during four years had
supplied all their wants, and of which there remained but a fragment of
granite washed by the waves of the Pacific, the tomb of him who had borne
the name of Captain Nemo.
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