"Oh, but when it is a question of taking possession!" M. Zermatt exclaimed.
"That gets done!" Jack laughed. "Are you aware that it is a very handsome present we are making to your country, Mr. Wolston?"
"I quite agree, my dear boy."
"And yet," the young man went on, "what a chance it would have been for our dear old Switzerland to embark upon a career of colonial expansion! An island which possesses all the animal and vegetable wealth of the torrid zone—an island so admirably situated in the very middle of the Indian Ocean for trade with the Far East and the Pacific!"
"There goes Jack, off again, as if he were careering on Grumbler or Lightfoot!" Mr. Wolston said.
"But, Ernest," Hannah interposed, "what are we to conclude from your calculations about theUnicorn?"
"Why, that it will be in the first few days of July at latest that she will set sail on her voyage here with our dear ones and the colonists who may have decided to come with them. She will put in at the Cape, Hannah, and that will probably delay her until about the middle of August. So I do not expect to see her off False Hope Point before the middle of October."
"Four more long months!" Mme. Zermatt sighed. "We need patience when we think of all those whom we love upon the sea! May God guard them!"
The women, busy with their household work, never wasted a minute, but it must not be supposed that the men were idle. The rumbling of the forge and the purring of the lathe were constantly to be heard. Mr. Wolston was a very clever engineer, and, assisted by M. Zermatt, sometimes by Ernest, and on rarer occasions by Jack, who was always out of doors if there was the least sign of the weather clearing up, he made a number of useful articles to complete the fittings of Rock Castle.
One scheme which was exhaustively discussed and finally agreed upon was the building of a chapel. The question of the site furnished the subject for several debates. Some thought that the selected site ought to front the sea and be on one of the cliffs halfway between Rock Castle and Falconhurst, so that it could be reached from both houses without too long a walk. Others thought that on such a site the chapel would be too much exposed to the gales blowing in from the sea, and that it would be better to build it near Jackal River, below the fall. Mme. Zermatt, however, and Mrs. Wolston thought that that would be too far away. So it was decided to build the chapel at the far end of the kitchen garden, on a spot that was well sheltered by lofty rocks.
Mr. Wolston then suggested that more solid and durable material than wood and bamboo should be employed. Why not use blocks of limestone, or even pebbles from the beach, in the fashion often seen in sea-side villages? Lime could be produced from the shells and reef-coral which existed in such quantity on the shore, by raising them to a red heat to extract the carbonic acid. The work would be begun when weather permitted, and two or three months would be ample to bring it to a satisfactory conclusion.
In July, which was the heart of the rainy season in this latitude, the violence of the storms was intensified. It was seldom possible to venture out of doors. Squalls and gales lashed the coast with tremendous fury. One might fancy oneself bombarded with grape-shot when the hail fell. The sea towered in enormous rolling waves, roaring as they broke in the chasms of the coast. Often the spray swept right over the cliff and fell in thick sheets at the foot of the trees. There were occasions when the wind and the tide combined to produce a kind of tidal wave which drove the water of Jackal River right back to the foot of the fall.
M. Zermatt was in a continual state of anxiety about the adjacent fields. They even had to cut the pipes which connected the river with Swan Lake, to prevent the overplus of water from swamping the land round Wood Grange. The position of the pinnace and the longboat in the creek also gave rise to some apprehension. On many occasions they had to make sure that the anchors were holding, and to double the hawsers to prevent collision with the rocks. As a matter of fact, no damage was done in this particular. But what kind of state must the farms be in, especially Wood Grange and Prospect Hill, which were more exposed than the others owing to their proximity to the shore, which the hurricanes lashed with positively terrifying fury?
So M. Zermatt, Ernest, Jack and Mr. Wolston determined to take advantage of a day which gave a brief respite from the storm, to go as far as False Hope Point.
Their fears were only too well founded. The two farms had suffered much, and required a great deal of strengthening and repair which could not be undertaken at this season and was therefore postponed until the end of the rains.
It was in the library that the two families usually spent their evenings. As has been said, there were plenty of books there, some brought from theLandlord; others, more modern works, given by Lieutenant Littlestone, including books of travel and works on natural history, zoology and botany, which were read over and over again by Ernest; others, again, which belonged to Mr. Wolston, manuals of mechanics, meteorology, physics and chemistry. There were also books about hunting and sport in India and Africa which filled Jack with longing to go out to those countries.
While the storm moaned and roared outside, indoors they read aloud. They conversed, sometimes in English, sometimes in German—two languages which both families now spoke fluently, although they sometimes had to use their dictionaries. There were evenings when only one language was employed, English, Swiss, or German, or, though in this they had less facility, Swiss French. Ernest and Hannah were the only two who had made much progress in this beautiful language, which is so pure, so precise, so flexible, so happily fitted to express the inspiration of poetry, and so accurately adapted to everything relating to science and art. It was quite a pleasure to hear the young man and the girl conversing in French, although all that they said was not always understood by the others.
As had been said, July is the worst month in this portion of the Indian Ocean. When the storms abated, there supervened thick fogs, which enveloped the entire island. If a ship had passed within only a few cables' lengths, she could not have seen either the inland heights or the capes along the coast. It was not without reason that they feared lest some other ship might perish in these seas as theLandlordand theDorcashad perished. The future would certainly make it incumbent upon the new colonists to light the coasts of New Switzerland and so make it easier to effect a landing there, at any rate in the north.
"Why should we not build a lighthouse?" Jack enquired. "Let us see: a lighthouse on False Hope Point, perhaps, and another on Cape East! Then, with signal guns from Shark's Island, ships would have no difficulty in getting into Deliverance Bay."
"It will be done, my dear boy," M. Zermatt answered, "for everything gets done in time. Fortunately, Lieutenant Littlestone did not need any lighthouses to see our island, nor any guns to help him to anchor opposite Rock Castle."
"Anyhow," Jack went on, "we should be quite equal, I imagine, to lighting the coast."
"Jack is certainly not afraid of attempting big things," Mr. Wolston said.
"Why should I be, Mr. Wolston, after all we have done as yet, and all we shall do under your instructions?"
"You know how to pay compliments, my boy," M. Zermatt remarked.
"And I am not forgetting Mrs. Wolston, or Hannah," Jack added.
"In any case," Hannah replied, "if I had not the knowledge I would not fail through any lack of good will."
"And with good will——" Ernest went on.
"One can build lighthouses two hundred feet above the level of the Indian Ocean," Jack answered lightly. "So I rely upon Hannah to lay the first stone."
"Whenever you like, my dear Jack," she answered, laughing.
On the morning of the 25th of July, M. and Mme. Zermatt were in their room when Ernest came to them, looking even more serious than usual, his eyes shining brightly.
He wanted to acquaint his father with a discovery, which, if properly worked, might, he thought, have results of the very highest importance in the future.
In his hand he held something which he handed to M. Zermatt after a final look at it.
It was one of the pebbles he had picked up in the gorge on the occasion of his trip in the canoe, with Mr. Wolston, on the upper reaches of the Montrose River.
M. Zermatt took the pebble, the weight of which surprised him to begin with. Then he asked his son why he brought it to him with such an air of mystery.
"Because it is worth while to give it a little careful attention," Ernest replied.
"Why?"
"Because that pebble is a nugget."
"A nugget?" M. Zermatt said questioningly.
And going to the window he began to look at it in the better light.
"I am certain of what I allege," Ernest declared. "I have examined that pebble, have analysed some portions of it, and I can guarantee that it is largely composed of gold in a native state."
"Are you sure you are not mistaken, my boy?" M. Zermatt asked.
"Quite, Papa, quite!"
Mme. Zermatt had listened to this conversation without speaking a word, without even putting out her hand to take the precious object, the finding of which seemed to leave her quite indifferent.
Ernest continued:
"Now, as we were coming back down the Montrose gorge I noticed a number of pebbles like that. So it is certain that there are quantities of nuggets in that corner of the island."
"And what does that matter to us?" Mme. Zermatt demanded.
M. Zermatt looked at his wife, recognising all the scorn in her remark.
Then he said:
"My dear Ernest, you have not mentioned your discovery to any one?"
"To no one."
"I am glad: not because I have no confidence in your brother or in Mr. Wolston. But this is a secret that ought to be carefully considered before it is divulged."
"What is there to be afraid of, Papa?" Ernest asked.
"Nothing at present, but much for the future of the colony! Let the existence of these gold-bearing districts once be heard of, let it once be known that New Switzerland is rich in nuggets, and gold-miners will come in crowds, and in their train will come all the evils, all the disorder, all the crimes that gold-hunting involves! You may be quite sure that what did not escape you, Ernest, will not escape others, and that all the mineral treasures of the Montrose will be known some day. Well, let that be as far in the future as possible! You were right to keep this secret, my boy, and we will keep it too."
"That is wisely spoken, dear," Mme. Zermatt added, "and I quite approve of all you have said. No! Let us say nothing, and do not let us go back to that gorge up the Montrose. Let us leave it to chance, or rather to God, who orders all the treasures of this world and distributes them as He thinks fit!"
Father, mother, and son agreed. The desert region between the upper reaches of the river and the foot of the mountain range would not attract the new inhabitants of the island for a long time to come, and beyond question many evils would thus be avoided.
The rainy season was now at its height. For at least another three weeks they must exercise patience. After twenty-four hours' respite the gales burst out again with greater violence, under the influence of the atmospheric disturbances which convulsed the whole of the north of the Indian Ocean. It was now August. Although this month only represents our February in the Southern hemisphere, it is then, between the Tropics and the Equator, that the rains and winds usually begin to abate and the sky to be cleared from the heavy vapours.
"For twelve years we have never experienced such a long series of gales," M. Zermatt remarked one day. "Even in May and July there were some weeks of lull. And the west wind always sets in again at the beginning of August."
"You will get a very sorry idea of our island, Merry dear," Mme. Zermatt added.
"Make yourself easy, Betsy," Mrs. Wolston replied. "Are we not accustomed in my country, England, to bad weather for six months in the year?"
"It is abominable!" said Jack emphatically. "An August like this in New Switzerland! I ought to have been out hunting three weeks ago, and every morning my dogs ask me what is the matter!"
"This spell will soon end now," Ernest declared. "If I may believe the barometer and the thermometer, it will not be long before we get into the period of thunderstorms, which generally is the end of the rainy season."
"Anyhow," said Jack, "this abominable weather is lasting too long. It is not what we promised Mr. and Mrs. Wolston, and I am sure Hannah is cross with us for having deceived her."
"No, I am not, Jack—really."
"And that she would be glad to go away!"
The young girl's eyes answered for her. They told how happy she was in the cordial hospitality of the Zermatts. Her real hope was that nothing would ever part her parents and herself from them!
As Ernest had remarked, the rainy season generally ended in violent thunderstorms, which lasted for five or six days. The whole heavens were then illumined by lightning, followed by peals of thunder as though the starry vault were crashing in, peals which re-echoed from a thousand points along the shore.
It was on the 17th of August that these storms were announced by a rising of the temperature, an increasing heaviness of the atmosphere, and a drifting up in the north-west of livid clouds, denoting high electric tension.
Rock Castle, from the shelter of its dome of rock, set wind and rain at defiance. There was nothing to be feared there from the lightning, which is so dangerous in open country or among trees, to which the electric fluid is easily attracted.
The next day but one, in the evening, the skies were rent by the most terrible ball of fire that had fallen yet. All gathered in the library sprang to their feet at the noise of the dry and rending peal of thunder, which went rolling on and on through the upper zones of the air.
Then, after a minute's interval, dead silence reigned outside.
The bolt had unquestionably fallen not far from Rock Castle.
At this moment the report of an explosion was heard.
"What is that?" cried Jack.
"It is not thunder," said M. Zermatt.
"Certainly not," said Mr. Wolston, who had come to the window.
"Was it a gun fired outside the bay?" Ernest asked.
All listened with panting hearts.
Were they mistaken—was it an acoustic illusion, a final thunderclap?
If it was really the discharge of a piece of ordnance, it meant that a ship was off the island, driven there by the storm, and perhaps in distress.
A second report resounded. It was the same sound, and therefore came from the same distance, and this time no lightning had preceded it.
"Another," said Jack, "and there can be no doubt——"
"Yes," Mr. Wolston declared, "it was a gun we just heard!"
Hannah ran towards the door crying out as if involuntarily:
"TheUnicorn! It can only be theUnicorn!"
For a few moments a stupefied silence reigned. TheUnicornoff the island, and calling for help? No, no! That some ship might have been driven to the north-east, and be disabled and drifting among the reefs of False Hope Point or Cape East, was conceivable. But that it was the English corvette was not admissible. That would have necessitated her having left Europe three months earlier than they had expected. No, no! And M. Zermatt was so emphatic in his assertion of the contrary that all came round to his opinion: this could not be theUnicorn.
But it was none the less appalling to think that a ship was in distress near the island, that the gale was driving her onto the reef where theLandlordhad been dashed to pieces, and that she was appealing for help in vain.
M. Zermatt, Mr. Wolston, Ernest, and Jack went out into the rain and climbed up the shoulder of cliff behind Rock Castle.
The darkness was so intense that they could not see farther than a very few yards in the direction of the sea. All four were obliged to return almost at once, without having seen anything on the surface of Deliverance Bay.
"And if we had seen, what could we do to help the ship?" Jack asked.
"Nothing," M. Zermatt answered.
"Let us pray for those in peril," said Mrs. Wolston; "may the Almighty protect them!"
The three women fell on their knees beside the window, and the men stood by them with bent heads.
As no other report of guns was heard, they were obliged to conclude that the vessel was either lost with all hands or had passed by the island out to sea.
No one left the great hall that night, and directly day appeared, the storm having ceased, all hurried out of the grounds of Rock Castle.
There was no sail in sight, either in Deliverance Bay or in the arm of the sea between False Hope Point and Cape East.
Nor was anything to be seen of any ship which might have been dashed upon theLandlord'sreef six or seven miles beyond.
"Let us go to Shark's Island," Jack suggested.
"You are right," M. Zermatt replied. "We shall see farther from the top of the battery."
"Besides," Jack added, "now or never is the time to fire a few guns. Who knows if they won't be heard at sea, and answered?"
The difficulty evidently would be to get to Shark's Island, for the bay must still be very rough indeed. But the distance was not much more than a couple of miles, and the longboat could risk it.
Mme. Zermatt and Mrs. Wolston, conquering their anxiety, did not oppose the idea. It might be a question of saving the lives of fellow-men.
At seven o'clock the boat left the little creek. M. Zermatt and Mr. Wolston, Ernest, and Jack all rowed energetically, helped forward by the ebb tide. A few bucketfuls shipped over the bows did not frighten them into turning back.
Directly they reached the island all four jumped out onto the low rocks.
What havoc they found! Trees lying uprooted by the wind, the antelopes' paddocks were destroyed, and the terrified animals rushing about all over the place!
M. Zermatt and the rest reached the foot of the little hill on which the battery stood, and Jack was naturally the first to appear at the top.
"Come along, come along!" he shouted impatiently.
M. Zermatt, Mr. Wolston and Ernest hurried up to him.
The shed under which the two guns were placed side by side had been burnt down during the night, and all that was left of it was a few ruins, which were still smoking. The flagstaff was split right down, and lay in the midst of a heap of half-burnt grass and brushwood. The trees, whose branches had been interlaced above the battery, were shivered right down to their roots, and the marks could be seen of flames that had consumed their upper branches.
The two guns were still upon their gun-carriages, which were too heavy for the gale to overturn them.
Ernest and Jack had brought quick-matches, and were also provided with several cannon-cartridges in order that they might be able to continue firing if they heard any reports from out at sea.
Jack, posted by the first gun, applied the light.
The match burnt right down to the touch-hole, but the charge did not go off.
"The charge has got damp," Mr. Wolston remarked, "and could not catch light."
"Let us change it," M. Zermatt replied. "Jack, take the sponge and try to clean out the gun. Then you can put a new cartridge in."
But when the sponge had been thrust into the gun, it went right down to the end of it, much to Jack's surprise. The old cartridge, which had been put in it at the end of the summer, was not there. It was the same with the second gun.
"So they have been fired!" Mr. Wolston exclaimed.
"Fired?" M. Zermatt repeated.
"Yes—both of them," Jack replied.
"But by whom?"
"By whom?" Ernest answered. "Why, by the thunder itself."
"The thunder?" M. Zermatt repeated.
"Not a doubt of it, papa. That last thunderbolt which we heard yesterday fell upon the hill. The hangar caught fire, and when the flames reached the two guns, the two charges exploded, one after the other."
This was the obvious explanation, in view of the burnt ruins which strewed the ground. But what anxious hours the good people at Rock Castle had spent during that interminable night of storm!
"Nice sort of thunder, turning gunner!" Jack exclaimed. "Jupiter Tonansis meddling with what is no concern of his!"
The cannon were reloaded, and the longboat left Shark's Island, where the hangar must be rebuilt as soon as the weather permitted.
But as no vessel had arrived in the waters of the island in the course of the previous night, so no vessel had been lost upon the reefs of New Switzerland.
The rainy season, which was very long drawn out that year, came to an end about the last week in August. The work of ploughing and sowing was immediately begun. As M. Zermatt did not propose to start upon the expedition to the interior before the third week in September, there would be ample time for this labour.
On this occasion the two families decided not to settle in at Falconhurst. The dwelling-place in the air had suffered damage during the recent storms, and some repairs were necessary. They would merely pass a few days there to attend to the sowing, the pruning of the vineyard, and what had to be done for the animals; and they would not make any longer stay at Wood Grange or Sugar-cane Grove or Prospect Hill.
"We must remember," said M. Zermatt, "that when our absent ones come back, with all the new friends that they will bring, Colonel Montrose, your son James and his wife, my dear Wolston, and perhaps some new colonists, additions will be absolutely necessary at Falconhurst and the other farms. Some additional pairs of hands will be uncommonly useful for all that work, which is bound to be heavy. Let us confine our attention now to our fields and stables and poultry-yards. We shall have quite enough to do in the next two months, while waiting for theUnicorn."
As Mme. Zermatt and Mrs. Wolston must stay at Rock Castle, they agreed to be responsible for everything both in and out of doors, the cattle, the birds on Goose Pond, and the vegetable garden. They gave Hannah permission to go with her father to the farms, and the girl and Ernest were equally pleased.
The waggon, drawn by the two buffaloes, and the three asses, was to be used in the transport across the Promised Land. M. Zermatt, Ernest, Mr. Wolston and Hannah were to drive in the waggon, while Jack, who always enjoyed acting as scout, was to ride before them on the onager, Lightfoot.
On the 25th of August, the first halt was made at Falconhurst. The weather was fine, with a light breeze blowing from Deliverance Bay. The heat, as yet, was not excessive. The journey along the shady avenue of trees which lined the river bank resembled a pleasant stroll.
There was no agricultural labour to be done at Falconhurst. The fields which had to be sown were at the other, more remote, farms. The whole time was devoted to the animals, to supplying them with fresh food, executing some necessary repairs to the sheds, and cleaning and dredging the little stream which watered this property.
The magnificent trees in the adjoining wood had withstood the fierce assaults of the storms, though not without the loss of a few branches. All this dead wood had to be collected and piled in the woodsheds in the yard.
It was discovered that one of the largest mangrove-trees had been struck by lightning. Although the same fate had not befallen the tree which supported the aerial dwelling-place, Ernest thought it would be prudent to protect it by means of a lightning conductor reaching above the top of its highest branches and connected with the ground by a metal rod. He determined to look into the matter of this device, for the summer season was broken by many thunderstorms, and the electricity might have caused serious damage at Falconhurst.
All this work took three full days, and it was not until the fourth that M. Zermatt returned to Rock Castle. He left it again forty-eight hours later with his companions, and, riding and driving as before, they took the road to Wood Grange.
The distance between Rock Castle and that farm was covered in the morning. Directly they arrived, everybody set to work. It was here that the sheepfold was, with an annually increasing number of sheep and goats; and here, too, was a poultry-run with several hundreds of birds. There was damage to be repaired in the hayloft, where the feed from the last harvest had been stored.
The dwelling-house did not appear to have suffered at all from the bad weather. This, however, was not the mere shanty of the early days, made of flexible reeds and slender, pliable poles. It was a brick cottage now, coated outside with sand and clay, and inside with plaster, so that it was impervious to damp. The cotton plantations contiguous to Wood Grange appeared to be in excellent condition. So, too, did the marsh, now a regular rice-field, the soil of which had not been undermined by the rains. On the other side, Swan Lake was full almost to the top of its banks, even at its lowest, but there was nothing about it to suggest an inundation of the adjacent fields. The little lake was alive with countless flocks of aquatic birds, herons, pelicans, snipe, moorhens, and, most graceful of all, coal-black swans sailing in pairs upon its surface.
Jack brought down several dozen ducks, and a magnificent water-cavy, which he got in the underwood, and which the waggon would take back to Rock Castle.
The monkeys had ceased to trouble. Not a single one was to be seen. Since the massacre of so many of them they had wisely decided to decamp.
Having attended to the animals, they applied themselves to sowing the Wood Grange fields. The soil was so fertile that it required no ploughing or manuring. All that was necessary to freshen it in preparation for another crop was to harrow it with the harrow which the asses drew. But the sowing required a good deal of time and the co-operation of all hands, even Hannah's, and it was not possible to return to Rock Castle before the 6th of September.
Those who thus came back could not but compliment Mrs. Wolston and Mme. Zermatt on the zeal and energy they had displayed during their absence. The poultry-yard and the cattlesheds were in perfect condition; the kitchen garden had been cleaned and weeded, and the vegetable plants pricked out in masterly style. The two good housewives had also gone in for a complete spring cleaning.
It was then decided that a final excursion should be made in the next few days to the other settlements in the district. The farms at Sugar-cane Grove and at Prospect Hill could be visited in the one trip. But to reach False Hope Point would certainly take a week, and they could not count upon being back before the middle of September.
"As for the hermitage at Eberfurt," M. Zermatt remarked, "we shall have an opportunity to visit that when we make our expedition into the interior of the island, for there is no other way out of the Promised Land except the defile of Cluse, and that is near our farm."
"Quite so," Mr. Wolston replied; "but isn't there any work to be done on the land over there which would suffer by the delay?"
"My dear Wolston," M. Zermatt answered, "all we have to do is wait until we are wanted for the haymaking and the harvesting, and that will not be for several weeks. So let us finish up with Sugar-cane Grove and Prospect Hill."
This agreed to, it was decided that Hannah should not go with her father this time, since the journey might take longer than a week, and Mrs. Wolston might miss her.
Ernest was disappointed, and asked whether his presence, too, at Rock Island was not also indispensable.
It was Jack who came to his aid. The day before the start, when everybody was assembled in the general hall, he made the following bold suggestion:
"Papa, I know quite well that Mrs. Wolston and Hannah and Mamma do not really run any risk by being left alone at Rock Castle—but when it is a question of leaving them for a whole week—who can say—well, perhaps——"
"Very true, Jack," M. Zermatt replied; "I shall not have an easy minute the whole time we are away, although there is no reason to anticipate any danger. Up to now we have never been separated for more than two or three days, and this time it will be for a whole week. It is a long time. Yet, it would be very inconvenient for us all to go together."
"If you like," said Mr. Wolston, "I will stay at Rock Castle."
"No, my dear Wolston, anyone rather than you," M. Zermatt replied. "You must go with us to Sugar-cane Grove and Prospect Hill, because of all that is to be done there in the future. But if one of the boys is willing to stay with his mother I shall have no more anxiety. That has been done several times before. Now Jack——"
Jack, who could hardly keep back a smile, looked slyly at Ernest.
"What!" he exclaimed. "Is it me you ask to stay at home? Would you deprive a hunter of such an opportunity of hunting big game? If anyone has to stay at Rock Castle, why should it be I rather than Ernest?"
"Ernest or Jack, it is all the same," M. Zermatt answered. "Is it not so, Mrs. Wolston?"
"Certainly, M. Zermatt."
"And with Ernest to keep you company, you would not be afraid, nor you, Betsy, nor you, Hannah, dear?"
"Not a bit afraid," replied the girl, blushing a little.
"Speak up then, Ernest," Jack said. "You don't say if that plan suits you?"
The plan did suit Ernest, and M. Zermatt could feel every confidence in that serious young man, who was as careful as he was brave.
The start had been arranged for the following day. At dawn, M. Zermatt, Mr. Wolston, and Jack said good-bye, promising to make their absence as brief as possible.
The shortest road between Rock Castle and Sugar-cane Grove bore away on the left to the Wood Grange Road, which ran along the coast.
The waggon, in which M. Zermatt and Mr. Wolston drove, was loaded with bags of seed, utensils and tools, and an adequate supply of provisions and ammunition.
Jack, who had declined to be parted from Lightfoot, rode near the waggon, followed by his two dogs, Brownie and Fawn.
They started in a north-westerly direction, leaving Swan Lake upon the right. Wide prairies, natural pasture grounds, extended as far as the canal cut from Jackal River, which was crossed, about two and a half miles from Falconhurst, by the original culvert.
There was no cart track in this direction like that which led to the Wood Grange farm; but frequent hauling of heavy timber had levelled the ground and destroyed the grass. So the waggon, drawn by the two sturdy buffaloes, made good speed without any very great trouble.
The seven or eight miles to Sugar-cane Grove were covered in four hours.
M. Zermatt, Mr. Wolston, and Jack reached the house in time for luncheon. Having eaten with excellent appetites, they set to work at once.
They had first to repair the fences that formed the enclosure in which the pigs had spent the rainy season. This had been invaded by some other members of the pig family, the tajacus, or musky peccaries, which had previously been seen at Sugar-cane Grove, and which lived on perfectly friendly terms with the domestic pigs. The tajacus were never driven away, for M. Zermatt knew that the flesh of these creatures could be turned to good account, provided the musky gland in the middle of the back was first removed.
All the plantations on this estate were found to be in first-class order, thanks to its distance from the sea.
When M. Zermatt and his sons first visited this place it was nothing but a marsh, which they then called Sugar-cane Marsh. That was in the early days after their landing on the island. Now vast fields of arable land surrounded the Sugar-cane Grove, succeeded by pastures where cows grazed. Where the simple hut made of branches once stood there was now a house sheltered by trees. At a little distance away there was a thick copse, composed entirely of bamboos, whose strong thorns could be employed as nails, and would have torn to shreds the clothes of anyone who made his way through them.
The stay at Sugar-cane Grove lasted a week, which was entirely occupied in sowing millet, wheat, oats and maize. Cereals throve quickly in this soil, which was irrigated from Swan Lake. Mr. Wolston had cut a trench from the western bank of the lake to this spot, and the water spread over the surface of this district by the natural process of finding its own level. As a result of this device, Sugar-cane Grove might be regarded as the richest of the three farms established in the Promised Land.
During this week Jack had plenty of sport. The moment he could be spared, he went off with his dogs. The larder was plentifully stocked with quails, grouse, partridges, and bustards, with peccaries and agoutis. Hyenas had previously been observed in the neighbourhood, but Jack met none, nor yet any other carnivorous animal. It was clear that the wild animals fled before man.
While walking by the side of the lake, Jack, more fortunate than his brother Fritz had been a few years before, got the chance to bowl over an animal the size of a large donkey, with a dark brown coat, a kind of hornless rhinoceros, of the tapir species. It was an anta, and it did not fall to the first shot which the young hunter fired at twenty paces; but just as it was charging at Jack, a second bullet pierced its heart.
At last, in the evening of the 15th of September, all this work was finished. The next day, after the house had been fast closed and the enclosure shut up with a solid railing, the waggon set off towards the north on its way to Prospect Hill, in the neighbourhood of False Hope Point.
The farm was about five miles from that point, which stretches out like a vulture's beak between Nautilus Bay and the open sea. The greater part of the journey lay on a flat plain, where the going was easy. But the plain sloped appreciably as it approached the cliff.
Two hours after the start, beyond a green and rich stretch of country wonderfully refreshed by the rainy season, M. Zermatt, Mr. Wolston, and Jack came to the Monkeys' Wood, which had ceased to deserve that name since those mischievous creatures had disappeared. At the foot of the hill they called a halt.
The sides of Prospect Hill were not really so steep that the buffaloes and the onager could not climb them, by following a zigzag path which wound round them. There was one really strenuous effort to be made, and the waggon was at the top.
After one strenuous effort, the waggon was at the top.
After one strenuous effort, the waggon was at the top.
After one strenuous effort, the waggon was at the top.
The house, being greatly exposed to the easterly and northerly winds which beat full upon the cape, had suffered a good deal from the recent storms. Its roof required some immediate repairs, for the gales had dismantled it in more than one place. But now, in good summer weather, it was quite habitable, and the party were able to instal themselves there for a few days.
In the poultry-yard, too, where the cocks and hens were clucking and running about, there was damage due to the bad weather to be attended to; and the mouth of the little stream of fresh water which rose near the top of the hill had to be cleared and opened.
In the plantations, and more especially the plantations of caper bushes and tea plants, the chief work was that of straightening the plants that had been beaten down by the force of the winds but were still rooted in the ground.
During their stay here the visitors took several walks to the end of False Hope Point. From this spot one could see over a vast extent of sea towards the east, and over part of Nautilus Bay to the west. How often in all these years had the shipwrecked people watched in vain for the sight of a ship beyond this cape!
When M. Zermatt and his two companions went there now, Jack was moved to say:
"It was twelve years ago, when we had given up all hope of ever finding any of our companions on theLandlord, that we gave this cape its fitting name of False Hope Point. If theUnicornshould come into sight over there to-day, would it not be fitting to change the name to Cape Welcome?"
"Very fitting, my dear boy," Mr. Wolston answered, "but it is not at all likely to happen. TheUnicornis still in mid-Atlantic, and it must be nearly two months before she can reach these waters of New Switzerland."
"One can never tell, Mr. Wolston," Jack replied. "But, failing theUnicorn, why should not some other ship come first to investigate, and then to take possession of the island? Of course, her captain would have good reason to call it False Hope Island, since it has been taken possession of already!"
But no ship did appear, and it was unnecessary to alter the name originally given to the cape.
On the 21st of September all the work at the villa at Prospect Hill was finished, and M. Zermatt decided to start for home next day at early dawn.
As they sat together that evening in the little balcony in front of the house, they witnessed a magnificent sunset below a clear horizon undimmed by the lightest haze. Ten miles away, Cape East rose from a foundation of shadow, broken sometimes by points of light as the surf broke against the rocks at its foot. The sea was absolutely calm, and spread in a curve as far as Deliverance Bay. Below the hill the grass lands, shaded by clumps of trees, blent their verdant carpet with the yellow tinted sands. Behind, twenty miles away to the south, the mountain range, to which Mr. Wolston's eyes often strayed, was shaded off, its edges scalloped with a line of gold by the last rays of the sun.
Next day the waggon went down the steep slopes of Prospect Hill and took the road once more, and in the afternoon it arrived at the gates of Rock Castle. The travellers were received with delight, although their expedition had not involved an absence of more than a couple of weeks.
That evening, when the two families were all together again in the large hall and M. Zermatt had finished his story of the expedition to the farms, Ernest laid upon the table a sheet of paper on which was a coloured drawing.
"Hullo, what is that?" Jack asked. "The plan of the future capital of New Switzerland?"
"Not yet," Ernest answered.
"Then I can't guess——"
"Why, it is the design for the inside decoration of our little chapel," said Hannah.
"That's it, Jack," said Ernest, "and I had to get on with it, for the walls are half built already."
The announcement caused great pleasure, and Ernest was warmly praised for his work, which was voted perfect both in its style and its arrangement.
"Will there be a steeple?" Jack demanded.
"Certainly," Hannah answered.
"And a bell?"
"Yes—theLandlord'sbell."
"And Hannah is to have the honour of ringing it first," Ernest announced.
It was the 24th of September, the date when Mr. Wolston's plan was to be carried into effect.
What would be the results of this exploration of the interior of New Switzerland?
For twelve years the shipwrecked people had been satisfied with the district of the Promised Land. It had sufficed to assure them of a livelihood, and even of prosperity. So, quite apart from the anxiety she must naturally feel when any of her dear ones were absent, Mme. Zermatt, though she did not seek to explain it even to herself, had her doubts about this expedition.
That evening, when M. Zermatt joined her in their room, she opened her heart to her husband, who answered her thus:
"If we were still in the same condition that we have been since we came here I would grant you, my dear, that this journey of discovery was not necessary. Even if Mr. Wolston and his family had been cast by shipwreck on this island of ours, I should say to them: 'What has been enough for us ought to be enough for you, and there is no need to rush into adventure when the advantage is not certain, and when there may be dangers to be incurred'; but New Switzerland has now a place on the map, and in the interest of its future colonists it is important that its extent should be known, the formation of its coasts and its resources."
"Quite so, dear, quite so," Mme. Zermatt answered, "but could not all that exploration be done better by the new arrivals?"
"Well, there would be no real harm done by waiting," M. Zermatt admitted, "and the work might be undertaken under better conditions. But you know, Betsy, Mr. Wolston has this idea very much at heart, and Ernest is anxious to complete the map of New Switzerland. So I think it is right to satisfy them."
"I would not say no, dear, if it did not mean another separation," Mme. Zermatt replied.
"A separation for a fortnight at most!"
"Unless Mrs. Wolston and Hannah and I go too."
"That would not be wise, dear wife," M. Zermatt said firmly. "If not dangerous, the expedition may at least be arduous and fatiguing. It will mean walking across an arid desert under a broiling sun. The ascent of the range is sure to be difficult."
"And so we are all to stay at Rock Castle?"
"Yes, Betsy, but I do not propose that you shall be left there alone. I have thought a great deal about it, and this is what I have decided, and what will meet with general approval, I think. Mr. Wolston shall make the trip with our two boys, Ernest to take the observations, and Jack, because he would never consent to forego such an opportunity, to go exploring; and I will remain at Rock Castle. Will that suit you, Betsy?"
"What a question, dear!" Mme. Zermatt answered. "We can have every confidence in Mr. Wolston. He will not let himself be dragged into any indiscretion. Our two boys will run no risk with him."
"I think this plan will satisfy Mrs. Wolston and Hannah," M. Zermatt went on.
"Hannah will be rather sorry when our Ernest is away," said Mme. Zermatt.
"And Ernest will be sorry to go without her," M. Zermatt added. "Yes, those two young creatures are attracted towards each other, and some day Ernest will be united to the woman he loves in the chapel he has designed! But we will talk about that marriage again, at the proper time."
"It will please Mr. and Mrs. Wolston as much as it pleases us," Mme. Zermatt answered.
When M. Zermatt propounded his suggestion it was received with general approval. Ernest and Hannah were obliged to fall in with so reasonable a plan. The former acknowledged that ladies ought not to venture upon an expedition of this kind, and the latter recognised that Ernest's presence was indispensable.
The 25th of September was the date fixed for the start.
And now every one was busy getting ready for the journey. Mr. Wolston and the two young men had agreed to make the expedition on foot. It might well be that the country adjoining the base of the mountain range was as difficult as that through which the upper reaches of the Montrose River ran.
So they would go on foot, staff in hand, gun slung across back, with the two dogs in attendance. Jack was an excellent shot, and neither Mr. Wolston nor Ernest was to be despised, so the three hunters could rely upon being able to find plenty of food for themselves.
But the waggon and team of buffaloes had to be got ready to convey the two families to the hermitage at Eberfurt. M. Zermatt wished to take advantage of this opportunity to visit this farm, which lay at the far end of the Promised Land. The suggestion that the rest should accompany Mr. Wolston and Jack and Ernest as far as the end of the defile of Cluse was received with acclamation. It might, perhaps, be convenient to prolong the stay at Eberfurt if the house should be found to require work at which everyone would be needed to lend a hand.
On the 25th, at a very early hour, the waggon left Rock Castle, followed by the two dogs, Brownie and Fawn. It was large enough to hold them all. The stage was a good eight miles, but the buffaloes could cover it before noon.
The weather was fine, the sky blue and dappled. A few light fleecy clouds veiled the sun's rays and tempered their heat.
About eleven o'clock, after travelling across a green and fertile country, the waggon arrived at the hermitage of Eberfurt.
In the little wood which lay on the hither side of it, a dozen or so monkeys were seen. It was imperative to drive them out of it, and they fled before a few shots.
As soon as the waggon had come to a stop, the party proceeded to instal themselves in the house. Being well protected by the surrounding trees, it had suffered but slight damage from the bad weather. While the three women set about preparing luncheon, the men went off, about a gunshot's range, to inspect the defile of Cluse, which led into the hinterland of the island.
Some important and arduous work had to be done here, for powerful animals had attempted to break through the barrier, and it was necessary to strengthen it. It appeared that a herd of elephants had tried to get through the defile, and if they had succeeded they might have done great damage not only at Eberfurt, but also to the farms at Sugar-cane Grove and Wood Grange. There might even have been occasion to defend Rock Castle from an attack by these formidable pachyderms.
It took the afternoon and the whole of the following day to fix the new beams and logs in place. All hands were needed to move these heavy weights and adjust them firmly. But when the job was done they had the satisfaction of knowing that the pass could not be forced.
The hermitage at Eberfurt was no longer the hut of Kamchatkan type, supported by four trees and raised twenty feet above the ground. There was now an enclosed and stockaded house, containing several rooms, sufficient to accommodate both families. On either hand were ample sheds built beneath the lower branches of the mangroves and evergreen oaks. It was there that the team of buffaloes was stabled, with plenty of fodder. There the well-trained, sturdy animals could chew the cud to their hearts' content.
Game swarmed in the neighbourhood—hares, rabbits, partridges, cavies, agoutis, bustards, grouse, and antelopes. Jack had a delightful time. Some of the game, after it had been roasted before the fire sparkling on the hearth, was reserved for the three men on their expedition. With their game-bags at their side, their knapsacks on their back, with tinder to light a fire, content with broiled meat and cassava cakes, with plenty of powder and shot, and with flasks full of brandy, they could not imagine any ground for anxiety on the score of their daily food. Besides, as they crossed the fertile plains, of which they had already caught glimpses over the Green Valley and to the south of Pearl Bay, they must surely find edible roots and fruits.
On the 27th of September, at a very early hour, the last good-byes were said in the defile of Cluse. For a whole fortnight there would be no news of the absent ones! How long the time would seem!
"No news?" said Ernest. "No, mamma; no, Hannah dear, you shall have news."
"By post?" Jack enquired.
"Yes, by aerial post," Ernest answered. "Don't you see this pigeon that I have brought in its little cage? Do you suppose I brought it only to leave it at Eberfurt? No, we will let it go from the top of the range, and it will bring you news of our expedition."
Everybody applauded this excellent idea, and Hannah vowed in her heart to watch every day for the coming of Ernest's messenger.
Mr. Wolston and the two brothers passed through a narrow outlet contrived between the posts in the defile of Cluse. It was carefully shut behind them, and in a few minutes they disappeared behind a bend in the barrier of rock.
To go afoot is ideal travelling. Going afoot allows a man to see all that there is to see, gives leave for dallying. Who goes afoot is satisfied with by-paths when the high road is no more. He may proceed as the humour takes him, pass where the lightest vehicle, the best trained steed, could find no way, ascend the shelving steeps, and scale the mountain tops.
Thus, though they might have to endure great fatigue, Mr. Wolston and the two young men had not hesitated to plunge on foot into the heart of the unknown districts of the hinterland, all the more willingly in anticipation of their projected climb to the summit of the range.
This plan only involved a tramp of eighteen or twenty miles, provided they were able to go in a bee line to the foot of the mountains. There was thus no question of any long journey. But it was all through entirely new country, which might hold surprises for the three explorers.
Jack was the most highly excited of the party. With his adventurous temper it was an enormous satisfaction to him to pass beyond the limits of the Promised Land and to travel over these wide plains, of which he as yet knew nothing. It was a fortunate thing that he was not mounted on onager, bull, or ostrich, and that he had brought only one dog, Fawn. Thus, Mr. Wolston would have some chance of restraining his impetuosity.
When they emerged from the defile the three turned first towards the little eminence which was called the Arabian Watch-tower, in memory of the troop of ostriches in which M. Zermatt and his boy had imagined they saw a troop of Bedouin Arabs on horseback, on the occasion of their first visit to the Green Valley. From this tower they turned off towards the Bears' Cave where, a few years before, Ernest had come so near being suffocated in the hug of one of these much too pressing creatures!
It was not their notion to follow up the course of the Eastern River, which ran from south to west.
That would have meant lengthening their route, since the slopes of the range rose towards the south.
This led Ernest to observe:
"What we can't do on the Eastern River might have been done on the Montrose. It would certainly have been much shorter for us if we could have gone up one of its banks."
"What I want to know," said Jack, "is why we could not have gone in the pinnace to the mouth of the Montrose? The canoe might have taken us from there as far as the barrage, which is twelve to fifteen miles at most from the range."
"Nothing would have been easier, my dear boy," Mr. Wolston replied. "But the desert country through which the Montrose runs has nothing of interest to show us. So it is ever so much better to go across the region which lies between Deliverance Bay and the mountains."
Their route continued down the Green Valley, which extended for about five miles parallel to the boundary wall of the Promised Land. This valley was about a couple of thousand yards in width, and contained dense woods, isolated clumps of trees, and grass lands rising in terraces up its sloping sides. In it was a stream which murmured as it ran among the reeds, and which flowed either into the Eastern River, or into Nautilus Bay.
Mr. Wolston and the two brothers were longing to get to the end of the Green Valley, so as to obtain their first glimpse of the country which opened up to the south. To the best of his skill and knowledge Ernest took their bearings as they went, by means of his pocket compass, and made notes of them, with the distances they covered.
About midday they halted in the shade of a clump of guava trees, not far from grass where euphorbia grew in abundance. A few partridges which Jack had shot as he went along, were plucked and cleaned and roasted over a fire, and, with some cassava cakes, formed the luncheon. The stream provided clear water, with which a dash of brandy from the flasks was mixed, and ripe guavas served admirably for dessert.
Invigorated and rested, the three men resumed their march. The far end of the valley was penned in between two lofty walls of rock. As it ran through this narrow gorge the stream was transformed into a torrent, and the outlet came into view.
An almost flat country, displaying all the luxuriant fertility of the tropics, spread as far as the first belts of the range. What a difference from the region watered by the upper reaches of the Montrose! A couple of miles away to the south-east, a liquid ribbon unrolled, gleaming in the sun, no doubt flowing to join the Montrose.
Southwards, as far as the foot of the mountains, for fifteen miles or more, plains and forests succeeded one another. The marching was often heavy. The ground was thickly covered with grass five and six feet high, with tall reeds studded with prickly plumes, and with sugar-canes waving in the breeze as far as eye could see. There was no doubt it would be possible to develop with vast profit all these natural products which, at this period, formed the principal wealth of over-sea dominions.
When Mr. Wolston and the two young men had walked for four solid hours, Ernest said:
"I vote we call a halt."
"What, already?" exclaimed Jack, who had as little desire to rest as his dog had.
"I agree with Ernest," said Mr. Wolston. "This seems a suitable spot, and we can spend the night at the edge of this copse of nettle-trees."
"Well, then, let us camp," said Jack, "and have dinner, too, for my stomach's empty."
"Must we light a fire and keep it up till daylight?" Ernest asked.
"It would be wise," Jack declared; "that is the best way to keep wild beasts off."
"No doubt," said Mr. Wolston, "but we should have to keep watch in turns, and I think sleep is better. I do not think there is anything for us to fear."
"No," said Ernest confidently; "I have not noticed any suspicious tracks, and we have not heard a growl since we left the Green Valley. We may as well spare ourselves the weariness of keeping watch one after the other."
Jack did not insist, and the travellers prepared to appease their hunger.
The night gave promise of being one of those nights when nature slumbers sweetly, and no breath disturbs the peace. Not a leaf moved among the trees, not the snapping of a twig broke the silence of the plain.
Fawn betrayed no symptoms of uneasiness. No hoarse bark of jackals was heard from afar, although those brutes were so numerous in the island. Upon the whole, there did not seem to be the least imprudence in sleeping under the open sky.
Mr. Wolston and the two brothers dined off the remains of their luncheon and a few turtle eggs, which Ernest had found, roasted among the ashes, with the addition of some of the fresh kernels of the fir-apples which grew in quantities in the neighbourhood, and which have the flavour of the hazel-nut.
The first to close his eyes was Jack, for he was the most tired of the three. He had never stopped beating the thickets and the bushes, often at such a distance that Mr. Wolston had been obliged to call him back. But as he was the first to go to sleep, so, too, was he the first to wake at daybreak.
The three resumed their march at once. An hour later they had to ford a little stream which probably ran into the Montrose five or six miles further on. So at least Ernest believed, taking its south-westerly course into consideration.
There were still the same wide prairies, vast plantations of sugar-cane, and, in the damp places, many clumps of those wax-trees which bear the flower on one stalk and the fruit upon the other.
At last dense forests appeared instead of the trees that grew singly upon the flanks of the Green Valley, cinnamons, palms of various kinds, figs, mangroves, and many bearing no edible fruit, such as spruce and evergreen oak and maritime oak, all of magnificent growth. Except in the few spots where the wax-trees grew, there were no marshy places in this district. Moreover, the ground rose steadily—a fact which deprived Jack of his last hope of meeting any flocks of waterfowl. He would have to be satisfied with the game of plain and forest.
Mr. Wolston said:
"It is quite clear, my dear Jack, that we shall have nothing to complain of if we are reduced to sultana birds, partridges, quails, bustards and grouse, not to mention antelopes, cavies, and agoutis. But I think it would be wise only to lay in supplies just as we are going to make a halt, so as to not to overload our game-bags."
"You are quite right, Mr. Wolston," the ardent sportsman replied. "But when game comes within such easy range it is very difficult to resist."
But finally Jack fell in with Mr. Wolston's advice. It was as late as eleven o'clock when several gunshots proclaimed the fact that the bill of fare for the first meal was just completed. People who like their game a little high would very likely have found fault with the brace of grouse and the three snipe that Fawn retrieved from the brushwood. But nothing was left of these birds, which were roasted before a fire of dry wood. As for the dog, he regaled himself upon the carcasses.
In the afternoon, however, a few more shots were necessary to drive away animals formidable if only because of their superior numbers. All three guns had to speak to put to flight a band of wild cats, of the kind that had been seen previously within the Promised Land, when the first visit was paid to the Green Valley. They made off with a heavy list of wounded, raising hideous cries which resembled mewing and howling mixed. It might be well to make careful provision against an attack by them during the next halt for the night.
This country was rich in birds, other than game—parrots, parrakeets, brilliant scarlet macaws, tiny toucans with green wings decked with gold, big Virginian blue-jays, and tall flamingoes. It was also thronged with antelopes, elands, quaggas, onagers, and buffaloes. Directly they scented the presence of man from afar, these creatures galloped away at great speed.
The country, still rising steadily towards the range, had lost as yet none of its fertility, which was as great as that of the northern part of the island. Soon Mr. Wolston, Ernest, and Jack came to a wooded belt. As they drew near the foot of the mountains they saw a succession of lofty forests, seemingly of great density. Next morning they might expect a much more difficult and fatiguing march.
That evening the hungry men regaled themselves upon hazel-hens, of which all three had bagged a few from a covey which Fawn put up in the tall and tangled grass. Camp was pitched at the edge of a magnificent forest of sago-trees, watered by a tiny stream which the steep pitch of the ground converted into a torrent as it sped on its course towards the south-west.
On this occasion Mr. Wolston decided to organise a sharp watch on the outskirts of the camp. A fire was to be kept alive until dawn. This necessitated their taking it in turns to watch by it throughout the night, which was disturbed by the howling of animals within close distance.
The start next morning was made in the small hours. Another seven or eight miles, and the foot of the mountains would be reached—perhaps in the second stage that day, if no obstacle occurred to delay the march. And if the flanks of the range were practicable on their northern side, the ascent would only take the first few hours of the following morning.
The country now presented a very different appearance from that seen on emerging from the Green Valley. To right and left, woods rose, tier on tier. They consisted almost exclusively of resinous species, which flourish in great altitudes, and were watered by brawling little streams which flowed towards the east. These little streams, which contributed directly or indirectly to the Montrose, would soon dry up under the heat of summer, and already it was possible to cross them ankle-deep.
The adventurers went on until eleven o'clock. A halt was then called for rest and refreshment, after a pretty tiring stage.
There had been no lack of game from the start. Jack had even succeeded in bagging a young antelope, the best portions of which he brought in, and the game-bags were packed with what was left, to serve for the evening dinner.
It was well that this precaution had been taken for in the afternoon all game, both furred and feathered, entirely disappeared.
The midday halt was passed at the foot of an enormous pine, near which Ernest lighted a fire of dead branches. While one of the antelope's quarters was roasting under Jack's vigilant eye, Mr. Wolston and Ernest went off a few hundred yards to get a look at the country.
"If this forest belt extends as far as the range," said Ernest, "it most likely covers the lower slopes. At least, that is what I thought I could see this morning when we left our camp."
"In that case," Mr. Wolston replied, "we shall have to make the best of it, and go through these forests. We could not get round them without greatly lengthening our route, and we might even have to go right to the east coast."
"Which must be something like twenty-five miles away," Ernest remarked, "if my estimate is right. I mean the part of the coast we went to in the pinnace, at the mouth of the Montrose."
"If that is so, my dear boy, we cannot think of reaching the range from the east. The west——"
"That is the unknown quantity, sir; besides, when the range is viewed from above the Green Valley, it seems to run out of sight to the westward."
"Well, then," said Mr. Wolston, "if we have no choice, let us risk it and break our way right through this forest to the other side. If we can't do it in one day, we will take two, or we will take three; but we will get to our goal."
The antelope's meat, done to a turn on the live embers, some cassava cakes, and a handful of fruit gathered close by, bananas, guavas, and cinnamon apples, formed the meal, for which an hour's halt sufficed. Then they picked up their arms and game-bags again, and all three plunged into the forest, guiding themselves by the pocket compass.
Marching was easy enough among these straight-stemmed, widely-spaced pines and firs, for the ground was fairly level and carpeted with grass, or rather a kind of scanty moss, which was almost free from brambles and undergrowth. It would have been far otherwise in a semi-tropical forest, where the trees are entangled by parasites and knotted together by creepers. There were no serious obstacles to interfere with free movement in this vast pine wood. There was, it is true, no beaten path to be followed, not even one beaten by animals; but the trees allowed of free passage, although necessitating occasional détours.
Although game was now scarce, Jack and Mr. Wolston, and Ernest, too, were obliged to use their guns during this stage. It was not a matter of carnivorous animals, lions, tigers, panthers or pumas, some of which had been seen near the Promised Land and in the country round about Pearl Bay. But it was a breed as numerous as it was mischievous.
"The beggars!" Jack exclaimed. "One might almost think that the whole lot came to take shelter here after we drove them out of the woods at Wood Grange and Sugar-cane Grove!"
And after having received several fir-cones, hurled by a strong arm, in the chest, he made haste to let fly a couple of shots in reply.
A fusillade had to be kept up for a whole hour, at the risk of exhausting the ammunition carried for the trip. A score of monkeys lay on the ground, seriously or mortally wounded. When they came toppling down from branch to branch, Fawn sprang upon those that had not got strength left to escape, and finished them off by throttling them.
"If it were cocoanuts the rascals were bombarding us with," Jack remarked, "it would not be half bad."
"By Jove!" Mr. Wolston answered, "I prefer fir-cones to cocoanuts. They are not so hard."
"That is so; but there is no nourishment in them," Jack replied. "Whereas the cocoanut is meat and drink too."
"Well," said Ernest, "it is better to have these monkeys in the interior of the island than to have them in the neighbourhood of our farms. We have had quite enough to do already to protect ourselves from their damage, and to destroy them with traps and lines. If these will stay in their pinewood and never come back to the Promised Land, that is all we ask of them."
"And we ask them politely, too!" Jack added, backing his courtesy up with a final shot.
When the engagement was over they resumed their march, and the only difficulty lay in keeping a steady course towards the range.
For the canopy of pines spread away before them, dense and impenetrable, without a single break, without a single glimpse of where the declining sun now stood. There was not a clearing; not so much as a fallen tree. Mr. Wolston could congratulate himself on having brought neither waggon nor mount with him. The team of buffaloes, and Jack's onager, would have found it impossible to get through some places where the pines grew so close that they were almost entangled in one another, and it might have become necessary to turn back.
About seven in the evening they reached the southern boundary of the pine forest. The upward slope of the ground was so steep that the forest spread in tiers over the lower ramifications of the range, and the mountain summits came into view just as the sun was sinking behind the lesser chains which cut the western horizon.
There was a vast accumulation here of fragments of rock that had fallen from the mountain top. Here, too, a number of streams broke out, the source, perhaps, of the Montrose River, and followed the slope of the ground towards the east.
In spite of their keen desire to reach their goal, Mr. Wolston and the two boys looked about and sought a recess in the rocks, where they could find shelter until the morning. Then, whilst Ernest was busy getting ready their meal, Mr. Wolston and Jack went to the nearest trees to gather armfuls of dry grass, which they spread on the sand inside the little cave. They ate a couple of grouse, and then, being very tired, turned their thoughts to sleep.
But some precautions had to be taken. As day drew to a close animals had been heard howling near at hand, and with the howling an occasional roar was heard, the nature of which it would have been difficult for anyone to fail to realise.
So a fire was lighted at the mouth of the cave, to be kept up all night with the dry wood, of which Mr. Wolston and Jack collected a great heap.
Watch was maintained until sunrise, Ernest taking the first watch of three hours, Jack the second, and Mr. Wolston the third.
Next morning at daybreak all three were astir, and Jack called out in his ringing tones:
"Well, Mr. Wolston, here is the great day at last! In a few hours the dearest wish of your heart will be accomplished! You will have planted your flag on the highest point of New Switzerland!"
"In a few hours? Well, yes, if the climb is not too difficult," Ernest remarked.
"Anyhow," said Mr. Wolston, "whether to-day or to-morrow, we shall probably know what to think about the size of the island."
"Unless it extends right out of sight to the south and west," Jack replied.
"I don't think so," Mr. Wolston answered, "for then it could not have been missed by navigators in this part of the Indian Ocean."