The Mysterious Island (57 page)

Ayrton then shoved off with Pencroft in the boat.

It was half-past ten in the evening when the two adventurers disappeared
in the darkness. Their companions returned to wait at the Chimneys.

The channel was easily traversed, and the boat touched the opposite
shore of the islet. This was not done without precaution, for fear lest
the pirates might be roaming about there. But after a careful survey,
it was evident that the islet was deserted. Ayrton then, followed by
Pencroft, crossed it with a rapid step, scaring the birds nestled in the
holes of the rocks; then, without hesitating, he plunged into the sea,
and swam noiselessly in the direction of the ship, in which a few lights
had recently appeared, showing her exact situation. As to Pencroft,
he crouched down in a cleft of the rock, and awaited the return of his
companion.

In the meanwhile, Ayrton, swimming with a vigorous stroke, glided
through the sheet of water without producing the slightest ripple. His
head just emerged above it and his eyes were fixed on the dark hull of
the brig, from which the lights were reflected in the water. He thought
only of the duty which he had promised to accomplish, and nothing of the
danger which he ran, not only on board the ship, but in the sea, often
frequented by sharks. The current bore him along and he rapidly receded
from the shore.

Half an hour afterwards, Ayrton, without having been either seen or
heard, arrived at the ship and caught hold of the main-chains. He took
breath, then, hoisting himself up, he managed to reach the extremity of
the cutwater. There were drying several pairs of sailors' trousers. He
put on a pair. Then settling himself firmly, he listened. They were not
sleeping on board the brig. On the contrary, they were talking, singing,
laughing. And these were the sentences, accompanied with oaths, which
principally struck Ayrton:—

"Our brig is a famous acquisition."

"She sails well, and merits her name of the 'Speedy.'"

"She would show all the navy of Norfolk a clean pair of heels."

"Hurrah for her captain!"

"Hurrah for Bob Harvey!"

What Ayrton felt when he overheard this fragment of conversation may be
understood when it is known that in this Bob Harvey he recognized one
of his old Australian companions, a daring sailor, who had continued his
criminal career. Bob Harvey had seized, on the shores of Norfolk Island
this brig, which was loaded with arms, ammunition, utensils, and tools
of all sorts, destined for one of the Sandwich Islands. All his gang had
gone on board, and pirates after having been convicts, these wretches,
more ferocious than the Malays themselves, scoured the Pacific,
destroying vessels, and massacring their crews.

The convicts spoke loudly, they recounted their deeds, drinking deeply
at the same time, and this is what Ayrton gathered. The actual crew
of the "Speedy" was composed solely of English prisoners, escaped from
Norfolk Island.

Here it may be well to explain what this island was. In 29deg 2' south
latitude, and 165deg 42' east longitude, to the east of Australia, is
found a little island, six miles in circumference, overlooked by Mount
Pitt, which rises to a height of 1,100 feet above the level of the sea.
This is Norfolk Island, once the seat of an establishment in which were
lodged the most intractable convicts from the English penitentiaries.
They numbered 500, under an iron discipline, threatened with terrible
punishments, and were guarded by 150 soldiers, and 150 employed
under the orders of the governor. It would be difficult to imagine
a collection of greater ruffians. Sometimes,—although very
rarely,—notwithstanding the extreme surveillance of which they were
the object, many managed to escape, and seizing vessels which they
surprised, they infested the Polynesian Archipelagoes.

Thus had Bob Harvey and his companions done. Thus had Ayrton formerly
wished to do. Bob Harvey had seized the brig "Speedy," anchored in sight
of Norfolk Island; the crew had been massacred; and for a year this ship
had scoured the Pacific, under the command of Harvey, now a pirate, and
well known to Ayrton!

The convicts were, for the most part, assembled under the poop; but a
few, stretched on the deck, were talking loudly.

The conversation still continued amid shouts and libations. Ayrton
learned that chance alone had brought the "Speedy" in sight of Lincoln
Island; Bob Harvey had never yet set foot on it; but, as Cyrus Harding
had conjectured, finding this unknown land in his course, its position
being marked on no chart, he had formed the project of visiting it, and,
if he found it suitable, of making it the brig's headquarters.

As to the black flag hoisted at the "Speedy's" peak, and the gun which
had been fired, in imitation of men-of-war when they lower their
colors, it was pure piratical bravado. It was in no way a signal, and no
communication yet existed between the convicts and Lincoln Island.

The settlers' domain was now menaced with terrible danger. Evidently
the island, with its water, its harbor, its resources of all kinds so
increased in value by the colonists, and the concealment afforded by
Granite House, could not but be convenient for the convicts; in their
hands it would become an excellent place of refuge, and, being unknown,
it would assure them, for a long time perhaps, impunity and security.
Evidently, also, the lives of the settlers would not be respected, and
Bob Harvey and his accomplices' first care would be to massacre them
without mercy. Harding and his companions had, therefore, not even the
choice of flying and hiding themselves in the island, since the convicts
intended to reside there, and since, in the event of the "Speedy"
departing on an expedition, it was probable that some of the crew would
remain on shore, so as to settle themselves there. Therefore, it
would be necessary to fight, to destroy every one of these scoundrels,
unworthy of pity, and against whom any means would be right. So thought
Ayrton, and he well knew that Cyrus Harding would be of his way of
thinking.

But was resistance and, in the last place, victory possible? That would
depend on the equipment of the brig, and the number of men which she
carried.

This Ayrton resolved to learn at any cost, and as an hour after his
arrival the vociferations had begun to die away, and as a large number
of the convicts were already buried in a drunken sleep, Ayrton did not
hesitate to venture onto the "Speedy's" deck, which the extinguished
lanterns now left in total darkness. He hoisted himself onto the
cutwater, and by the bowsprit arrived at the forecastle. Then, gliding
among the convicts stretched here and there, he made the round of the
ship, and found that the "Speedy" carried four guns, which would throw
shot of from eight to ten pounds in weight. He found also, on touching
them that these guns were breech-loaders. They were therefore, of modern
make, easily used, and of terrible effect.

As to the men lying on the deck, they were about ten in number, but
it was to be supposed that more were sleeping down below. Besides, by
listening to them, Ayrton had understood that there were fifty on
board. That was a large number for the six settlers of Lincoln Island to
contend with! But now, thanks to Ayrton's devotion, Cyrus Harding would
not be surprised, he would know the strength of his adversaries, and
would make his arrangements accordingly.

There was nothing more for Ayrton to do but to return, and render to his
companions an account of the mission with which he had charged himself,
and he prepared to regain the bows of the brig, so that he might let
himself down into the water. But to this man, whose wish was, as he had
said, to do more than his duty, there came an heroic thought. This was
to sacrifice his own life, but save the island and the colonists. Cyrus
Harding evidently could not resist fifty ruffians, all well armed, who,
either by penetrating by main force into Granite House, or by starving
out the besieged, could obtain from them what they wanted. And then he
thought of his preservers—those who had made him again a man, and an
honest mm, those to whom he owed all—murdered without pity, their works
destroyed, their island turned into a pirates' den! He said to himself
that he, Ayrton, was the principal cause of so many disasters, since his
old companion, Bob Harvey, had but realized his own plans, and a
feeling of horror took possession of him. Then he was seized with an
irresistible desire to blow up the brig and with her, all whom she had
on board. He would perish in the explosion, but he would have done his
duty.

Ayrton did not hesitate. To reach the powder-room, which is always
situated in the after-part of a vessel, was easy. There would be no want
of powder in a vessel which followed such a trade, and a spark would be
enough to destroy it in an instant.

Ayrton stole carefully along the between-decks, strewn with numerous
sleepers, overcome more by drunkenness than sleep. A lantern was lighted
at the foot of the mainmast, round which was hung a gun-rack, furnished
with weapons of all sorts.

Ayrton took a revolver from the rack, and assured himself that it was
loaded and primed. Nothing more was needed to accomplish the work of
destruction. He then glided towards the stern, so as to arrive under the
brig's poop at the powder-magazine.

It was difficult to proceed along the dimly lighted deck without
stumbling over some half-sleeping convict, who retorted by oaths and
kicks. Ayrton was, therefore, more than once obliged to halt. But at
last he arrived at the partition dividing the aftercabin, and found the
door opening into the magazine itself.

Ayrton, compelled to force it open, set to work. It was a difficult
operation to perform without noise, for he had to break a padlock. But
under his vigorous hand, the padlock broke, and the door was open.

At that moment a hand was laid on Ayrton's shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" asked a tail man, in a harsh voice, who,
standing in the shadow, quickly threw the light of a lantern in Ayrton's
face.

Ayrton drew beck. In the rapid flash of the lantern, he had recognized
his former accomplice, Bob Harvey, who could not have known him, as he
must have thought Ayrton long since dead.

"What are you doing here?" again said Bob Harvey, seizing Ayrton by the
waistband.

But Ayrton, without replying, wrenched himself from his grasp and
attempted to rush into the magazine. A shot fired into the midst of the
powder-casks, and all would be over!

"Help, lads!" shouted Bob Harvey.

At his shout two or three pirates awoke, jumped up, and, rushing on
Ayrton, endeavored to throw him down. He soon extricated himself from
their grasp. He fired his revolver, and two of the convicts fell, but
a blow from a knife which he could not ward off made a gash in his
shoulder.

Ayrton perceived that he could no longer hope to carry out his project.
Bob Harvey had reclosed the door of the powder-magazine, and a movement
on the deck indicated a general awakening of the pirates. Ayrton must
reserve himself to fight at the side of Cyrus Harding. There was nothing
for him but flight!

But was flight still possible? It was doubtful, yet Ayrton resolved to
dare everything in order to rejoin his companions.

Four barrels of the revolver were still undischarged. Two were
fired—one, aimed at Bob Harvey, did not wound him, or at any rate
only slightly, and Ayrton, profiting by the momentary retreat of his
adversaries, rushed towards the companion-ladder to gain the deck.
Passing before the lantern, he smashed it with a blow from the butt of
his revolver. A profound darkness ensued, which favored his flight. Two
or three pirates, awakened by the noise, were descending the ladder at
the same moment.

A fifth shot from Ayrton laid one low, and the others drew back, not
understanding what was going on. Ayrton was on deck in two bounds, and
three seconds later, having discharged his last barrel in the face of
a pirate who was about to seize him by the throat, he leaped over the
bulwarks into the sea.

Ayrton had not made six strokes before shots were splashing around him
like hail.

What were Pencroft's feelings, sheltered under a rock on the islet! What
were those of Harding, the reporter, Herbert, and Neb, crouched in the
Chimneys, when they heard the reports on board the brig! They rushed out
on to the beach, and, their guns shouldered, they stood ready to repel
any attack.

They had no doubt about it themselves! Ayrton, surprised by the pirates,
had been murdered, and, perhaps, the wretches would profit by the night
to make a descent on the island!

Half an hour was passed in terrible anxiety. The firing had ceased, and
yet neither Ayrton nor Pencroft had reappeared. Was the islet invaded?
Ought they not to fly to the help of Ayrton and Pencroft? But how? The
tide being high at that time, rendered the channel impassable. The boat
was not there! We may imagine the horrible anxiety which took possession
of Harding and his companions!

At last, towards half-past twelve, a boat, carrying two men, touched the
beach. It was Ayrton, slightly wounded in the shoulder, and Pencroft,
safe and sound, whom their friends received with open arms.

All immediately took refuge in the Chimneys. There Ayrton recounted all
that had passed, even to his plan for blowing up the brig, which he had
attempted to put into execution.

All hands were extended to Ayrton, who did not conceal from them that
their situation was serious. The pirates had been alarmed. They knew
that Lincoln Island was inhabited. They would land upon it in numbers
and well armed. They would respect nothing. Should the settlers fall
into their hands, they must expect no mercy!

"Well, we shall know how to die!" said the reporter.

"Let us go in and watch," answered the engineer.