*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 74418 ***





                           THEIR ISLAND HOME

                       _THE LATER ADVENTURES OF
                      THE SWISS FAMILY ROBINSON_

                            By JULES VERNE

                               AUTHOR OF
             "THE CASTAWAYS OF THE FLAG," "THE LIGHTHOUSE
                    AT THE END OF THE WORLD," ETC.

                            Frontispiece by
                             H. C. MURPHY

                               NEW YORK
                            G. HOWARD WATT
                             1819 BROADWAY
                                 1924

                          COPYRIGHT, 1924, BY
                            G. HOWARD WATT

               _Printed in the United States of America_




                                PREFACE


In a long preface to the original French edition of this story--too
long to be given in full here--M. Jules Verne tells how the stories of
"Robinson Crusoe" and "The Swiss Family Robinson" were the books of his
childhood, and of the imperishable impression they made upon his mind.

They influenced his bent in literature to a very marked extent--not
only the two books named, but imitations such as "The Twelve-Year-old
Robinson," "The Robinson of the Desert," and "The Adventures of Robert
Robert," half-forgotten, perhaps now completely forgotten, French
stories for young readers, and an island story of Fenimore Cooper's,
"The Crater," which it is safe to say has not been read by one person
for every hundred who have rejoiced in the great Leatherstocking series.

To this influence we owe "The Mysterious Island" and "Godfrey Morgan."
There were also "The Robinsons at School" and "Two Years' Holidays,"
which have not yet appeared in English form. The author does not
mention "Godfrey Morgan," by the way, but that book must surely be
classed with these.

Jules Verne found the part of "Robinson Crusoe" which deals with the
island "a masterpiece which is merely an episode in a long and tedious
tale." But he drew delight from every page of "The Swiss Family
Robinson." He came to believe, he says, that New Switzerland was a
real island and he felt that the story did not really end with the
arrival of the _Unicorn_. The surface of the island had not been fully
explored. Fritz, Frank, and Jenny Montrose had gone to Europe. They
must have had adventures, and those adventures ought to be told. So he
felt that he positively must write about them.

One can guess that the romancer of Amiens got out of his work upon
this book--"Their Island Home"--and its sequel--"The Castaways of the
_Flag_"--a pleasure at least equal to that he derived from the writing
of any of the numerous volumes which have enchanted generations of
boys. All his stories were very real to him; but one doubts whether any
other was quite so real as these two, whether even Captain Nemo or Dick
Sands were quite as dear to him as the Wolstons and the Zermatts.

The author of the original work was Rudolph Wyss, who was born at Berne
in 1781, and died in 1860. The book which made him a popular author was
not his only one, but the others seem to have been more the product of
his mind as a professor than of his imaginative faculties, and they do
not matter here. "The Swiss Family Robinson" was published (in German)
at Zurich in 1812, and a first French translation appeared in 1813. The
English version could not have been very long after this, and the book
has maintained its popularity in England as in France and Switzerland,
doubtless as in a dozen other countries.




                               CONTENTS


                                PREFACE

                     I. SHOTS ASHORE AND SHOTS AT SEA!

                    II. FRITZ AND JACK PLAY SAVAGES

                   III. THE BRITISH CORVETTE "UNICORN"

                    IV. A RETROSPECT

                     V. THE STORY OF JENNY MONTROSE

                    VI. PLANNING AND WORKING

                   VII. THE START OF AN EXPEDITION

                  VIII. EXPLORERS OF UNKNOWN COASTS

                    IX. MONTROSE RIVER

                     X. THE DISTANT SMOKE!

                    XI. IN THE SEASON OF RAINS

                   XII. THE NEW VENTURE

                  XIII. THE MOUNTAIN RANGE

                   XIV. JEAN ZERMATT PEAK

                    XV. JACK AND THE ELEPHANTS

                   XVI. TROUBLE AHEAD


    [The sequel to this story is "The Castaways of the _Flag_," which
    is on sale at the same time and the same price.]




[Illustration: And when the elephants lifted their trunks and waved
them about and started trumpeting, there was a general stampede.]




                          "THEIR ISLAND HOME"

                           TRANSLATOR'S NOTE


It is a commonplace of criticism that sequels are unsatisfactory.
For the most part they are, and the reason is fairly obvious. If the
original story has been properly planned and written it should be
a complete and completed thing with which the author has finished.
If, yielding to public clamour for "more," he then professes to have
regarded it merely as a "first part" of a larger thing and grafts
something else on to it the probabilities are that his "second part"
will prove to be but a mechanical invention mothered not by the
necessity of inspiration but by some less noble emotion such as vanity
or desire for further gain. Sir Walter Scott made no such blunder.
He was not lured by the prodigious success of "Waverly" into putting
forth any "farther adventures" of that somewhat precious young man
but directed his creative powers upon a wholly new subject and while
thereby satisfying the public desire for further romance set fresh
laurels on his own brow and put more money in his purse.

Inspiration, in truth, is not to be captured. It comes from an outside
source. And if sequels are to be written--and one must admit that
sometimes they seem to be required--they should be written by another
hand irresistibly compelled by the inspiration derived from the first
originating genius. Robert Louis Stevenson could have written a better
"second part" to "Robinson Crusoe" than was accomplished by Daniel
Defoe and--to come to the particular--Jules Verne achieved a triumph
when, his imagination fired by the one great work of Rudolph Wyss, he
was impelled to carry it a further stage in "Their Island Home" and to
its final stage in "The Castaways of the Flag."

Of the genius manifested by Rudolph Wyss, Jules Verne had much more
than a double portion. An Island was ever his spiritual home and no
one, not even Robert Louis Stevenson, was ever happier upon one. "Their
Island Home" is a satisfactory sequel to "The Swiss Family Robinson"
because it is essentially the spontaneous production of an original
genius set in activity by something outside itself. Wherever "The Swiss
Family Robinson" is read--and that is everywhere--"Their Island Home"
and "The Castaways of the Flag" should be read. In French they are
already established classics. I hope that in this English translation
they will prove equally enduring.

                                                    CRANSTOUN METCALFE.




                           THEIR ISLAND HOME




                               CHAPTER I

                    SHOTS ASHORE AND SHOTS AT SEA!


The dry season set in at the beginning of the second week of October.
This is the first spring month in the Southern zone. The winter in this
nineteenth degree of latitude between the Equator and the tropic of
Capricorn had not been very severe. The inhabitants of New Switzerland
would soon be able to resume their wonted labours.

After eleven years spent upon this land it was none too soon to attempt
to ascertain whether it was a part of one of the continents laved by
the Indian Ocean or whether it must be included by geographers among
the islands of those seas.

Since the rescue by Fritz of the young English girl upon Burning Rock,
M. Zermatt and his wife, his four sons and Jenny Montrose had been
happy on the whole. Of course they had at times fears of the future and
of the great improbability of deliverance reaching them from outside,
and they had, too, memories of home and a longing to get into touch
again with mankind.

To-day, then, at a very early hour, M. Zermatt passed through the
orchard of Rock Castle and walked along the bank of Jackal River.
Fritz and Jack were there before him, equipped with their fishing
tackle. As for Ernest, always bad at getting up, yearning for five
minutes longer between the sheets, he had not yet left his bed.

Mme. Zermatt and Jenny were busy within doors.

"Papa," said Jack, "it is going to be a fine day."

"I think it is, my boy," M. Zermatt replied. "And I hope that it will
be followed by many more as fine, since we are at the beginning of
spring."

"What are you going to do to-day?" Frank asked.

"We are going fishing," Fritz answered, showing his net and lines.

"In the bay?" M. Zermatt enquired.

"No," Fritz answered; "if we go up Jackal River as far as the dam, we
shall catch more fish than we shall require for breakfast."

"And then?" said Jack, addressing his father.

"Then, my boy," M. Zermatt replied, "we shall not be at a loss for
a job. In the afternoon, for example, I am thinking of going to
Falconhurst to see if our summer dwelling requires any repairs.
Besides, we shall take advantage of the first fine days to visit our
other farms, Wood Grange, Sugar-cane Grove, the hermitage at Eberfurt
and the villa at Prospect Hill. And then there will be the animals to
attend to and the plantations to get into order."

"That, of course, papa," Fritz rejoined. "But since we can have an hour
or two this morning, come along, Jack; come along, Frank."

"We are quite ready," cried Jack, "and I can feel a fine trout at the
end of my line already. Houp-la! Houp-la!"

Jack pretended to gaff the imaginary fish caught on his hook while
calling in glad and ringing tones:

"Off we go!"

Perhaps Frank would have preferred to remain at Rock Castle, where his
mornings were generally devoted to study. However, his brother pressed
him so eagerly that he made up his mind to follow him.

The three young men were going towards the right bank of Jackal River
when M. Zermatt stopped them.

"My children," he said, "your eagerness to go fishing has made you
forget----"

"Forget what?" Jack asked.

"What we have made a practice of doing every year, at the beginning of
the dry season."

Fritz came back to his father.

"What can that be?" he said, scratching his head.

"What--do you not remember, Fritz--or you, Jack?" M. Zermatt persisted.

"Is it that we have not given you an embrace in honour of the spring?"
Jack replied.

"No, no!" Ernest answered, who had just come out from the paddock,
rubbing his eyes and stretching his limbs.

"Then it is because we are going off without having had breakfast,
isn't it, Ernest, you young glutton?" said Jack.

"No," Ernest replied, "it has nothing to do with that. Papa only wants
to remind you of our custom of firing the two guns of Shark's Island
battery every year at this time."

"Precisely," M. Zermatt answered.

As a matter of fact, it had been the custom of Fritz and Jack, on one
of the days in the second fortnight of October, at the end of the
rainy season, to go to the island at the entrance to Deliverance Bay
and rehoist the New Switzerland flag, then to salute it with two guns
whose report could be heard quite distinctly at Rock Castle. After
this, without much hope, they took a survey of the whole sea and shore.
Perhaps some ship passing through those waters would catch the sound
of the two reports. Perhaps it would soon arrive within sight of the
bay. Perhaps some shipwrecked people had even been cast upon some point
of this land, which they must suppose to be uninhabited, and these
discharges of ordnance would give them warning.

"It is quite true," said Fritz, "we were about to forget our duty. Go
and get the canoe ready, Jack, and we shall be back in less than an
hour."

But Ernest objected.

"What is the good of this artillery racket? Think of all the years we
have fired our guns, only to wake the echoes of Falcon's Nest and Rock
Castle! Why waste these charges of powder?"

"That is you all over, Ernest!" Jack exclaimed. "If a cannon shot costs
so much it must bring back so much, or else be silent!"

"You are wrong to talk like that," said M. Zermatt to his second son,
"and I do not regard the cost as wasted. To fly a flag over Shark's
Island cannot be sufficient, for it would not be seen from far out at
sea, while our cannon shots can be heard a good two and a half miles.
It would be foolish to neglect this chance of making our presence known
to any ship passing by."

"In that case," said Frank, "we ought to fire every morning and every
evening."

"Certainly; just as they do in the navy," Jack declared.

"In the navy there is no danger of running short of ammunition,"
remarked Ernest, who was by far the most obstinate of the four brothers.

"Make your mind easy, my boy; we are not nearly out of powder," M.
Zermatt assured him. "Two cannon shots, twice a year, at the beginning
and the end of winter, only cost a trifle. It is my opinion that we
should not discontinue this custom."

"Papa is right," said Jack. "If the echoes of Falconhurst and Rock
Castle object to being disturbed from their sleep, well and good!
Ernest will make an apology to them in verse, and they will be
delighted. Come along, Fritz!"

"We must go and let Mamma know first," said Frank.

"And Jenny too," Fritz added.

"I will attend to that," M. Zermatt replied, "for the reports might
cause them some surprise, and even lead them to imagine that some ship
was coming into Deliverance Bay."

Just at this moment Mme. Zermatt and Jenny Montrose, who were coming
out of the verandah, stopped at the gate of the orchard.

After having embraced his mother Fritz gave his hand to the young girl,
who smiled upon him. And as she saw Jack moving towards the creek where
the long boat and the pinnace were moored, she asked:

"Are you going to sea this morning?"

"Yes, Jenny," answered Jack, returning. "Fritz and I are making our
preparations for a long voyage."

"A long voyage?" Mme. Zermatt repeated, ever uneasy about absences of
this kind, however great her confidence might be in the skill of her
sons in managing the canoe.

"Make your mind easy, my dear Betsy, and you, too, Jenny," M. Zermatt
said. "Jack is only joking. It is only a matter of going to Shark's
Island and firing the two regulation guns when the flag is hoisted, and
of coming back after seeing that everything is in order."

"That is all right," Jenny replied, "and while Fritz and Jack are going
to the island Ernest and Frank and I will go and fish--that is, of
course, if Mme. Betsy does not want me."

"No, my dear child," said Mme. Zermatt, "and meanwhile I will go and
get the washing ready."

After going down to the mouth of Jackal River, whither Jack brought the
canoe, Fritz and he embarked. All wished them a good voyage and the
light boat shot quickly out of the little creek.

The weather was fine, the sea calm, the tide favourable. Sitting one in
front of the other, each in the narrow opening allotted to him, the
two brothers plied their paddles alternately and rapidly drew away from
Rock Castle. As the current bore a little towards the east, the canoe
was obliged to approach the opposite shore, crossing the inlet which
connected Deliverance Bay with the open sea.

At this time Fritz was twenty-five years of age. Vigorous and skilful,
well trained in every physical exercise, a tireless walker and an
intrepid hunter, this eldest son was a credit to the Zermatt family.
His temper, in his boyhood rather bad, had become better. His brothers
never suffered now, as they used to do, from those fits of anger of
his which had often brought upon him remonstrances from his father and
mother. Something had changed him materially.

He could not forget the young girl whom he had taken off Burning Rock,
and Jenny Montrose could not forget that she owed her deliverance to
him. Jenny was charming, with her fair hair falling in silky ringlets,
her graceful figure, her pretty hands, and the fresh complexion which
was not spoiled by the sunburn on her face. When she came into this
family she brought into it what it had lacked till then, gladness of
the home, and she was the good genius of the hearth.

Ernest, Jack, and Frank saw no more than a sister in this charming
girl. But was it quite the same with Fritz? Was it the self-same
emotion that made his heart beat so? Was it only friendship that Jenny
felt for the brave young fellow who had come to her rescue? Already
nearly two years had passed since that poignant incident upon Burning
Rock. Fritz had not been able to live by Jenny's side without falling
in love with her. And many a time did the father and mother talk of
what the future held for these two.

If Jack's character had undergone any modification it was in the
development of his natural inclination for all exercises which called
for strength, courage and skill, and on this score he now had nothing
to envy Fritz. His age was now one and twenty, his stature medium, his
figure strapping, and he was still the same gallant, merry, pleasant,
impulsive, and also good fellow as ever. He had not given up teasing
his brothers, but they were always ready to forgive him. Was he not the
best pal in the world?

The canoe sped like an arrow over the surface of the water. Fritz
had not hoisted the little sail which it carried when the wind was
favourable, because the breeze was blowing off the sea. On the return
journey the mast would be stepped, and it would not be necessary to use
the paddles to make the mouth of Jackal River.

Nothing happened to catch the attention of the two brothers during
their short voyage of a couple of miles. To the east, the arid desert
shore showed only a long succession of yellowish dunes. To the west,
the verdant coast extended from the mouth of Jackal River to the mouth
of Flamingo River and beyond that to False Hope Point.

"There is no doubt," said Fritz, "that our New Switzerland does not
lie in the course of any ships, and this Indian Ocean is pretty well
deserted."

"Well," said Jack, "I am not so very keen upon their discovering our
New Switzerland! A ship which touched at it would not lose any time in
taking possession of it. And if it planted its flag here, what would
become of ours? You may be quite sure it would not be a Swiss flag,
seeing that it isn't exactly over the seas that Switzerland carries her
flag, so we should run a considerable risk of not feeling ourselves at
home any more."

"And the future, Jack: what about the future?" Fritz replied.

"The future?" Jack made answer; "the future will be a continuation of
the present, and if you are not satisfied----"

"All of us are, perhaps," said Fritz. "But you forget Jenny; and her
father who believes that she was lost in the wreck of the _Dorcas_.
Must she not be longing to be restored to him? She knows that he is
over there, in England, and how is she ever to join him there unless a
ship arrives some day?"

"Quite so," said Jack with a smile, for he guessed what was going on
within his brother's heart.

In about three-quarters of an hour the canoe reached the low-lying
rocks of Shark's Island.

Fritz and Jack's first business was to visit the interior and then
to make a circuit of the island. It was important to ascertain the
condition of the plantations made some years ago round the battery hill.

These plantations were much exposed to the winds from the north and
north-east, which lashed the island with their full force before
rushing down the funnel-like entrance into Deliverance Bay. At this
point there were actually atmospheric backwaters, or eddies, of
dangerous strength, which more than once already had torn the roofing
off the hangar under which the two guns were placed.

Fortunately the plantations had not suffered excessively. A few trees
were lying on the beach on the north side of the island, and these
would be sawn up to be stored at Rock Castle.

The enclosures in which the antelopes were penned had been so solidly
constructed that Fritz and Jack detected no damage done to them. The
animals had abundant pasture there throughout the year. The herd now
numbered fifty head, and was bound to go on increasing.

"What shall we do with all these animals?" Fritz asked, as he watched
them frolicking between the quickset hedges of the enclosures.

"Sell them," was Jack's answer.

"Then you do admit that some day or another ships will come to which it
will be possible to sell them?" Fritz enquired.

"Not a bit of it," Jack replied; "when we sell them it will be in open
market in New Switzerland."

"Open market, Jack! From the way you talk one would suppose it won't be
very long before New Switzerland has open markets."

"No doubt about it, Fritz; or that it will have villages and little
towns, cities, and even a capital, which, naturally, will be Rock
Castle."

"And when will that be?"

"When the provinces of New Switzerland have several thousand
inhabitants."

"Foreigners?"

"No, no, Fritz," Jack declared; "Swiss: none but Swiss. Our native land
has enough people to be able to send us a few hundred families."

"But it never has had any colonies, and I don't suppose it ever will,
Jack."

"Well, it will have one, at any rate, Fritz."

"But our countrymen don't seem to show any inclination to emigrate."

"What about ourselves?" Jack exclaimed. "Didn't we develop the liking
for colonisation--and not without some advantage?"

"Because we were obliged to," Fritz answered. "No, if ever New
Switzerland is to be populated, I am very much afraid she won't
continue to justify her name, and that the large majority of her
inhabitants will be Anglo-Saxon."

Fritz was right, and Jack knew it so well that he could not refrain
from making a grimace.

For at this period Great Britain was still frequently acquiring new
possessions. Bit by bit, the Indian Ocean was always giving her fresh
domains. So the great probability was that if a ship ever did come in
sight, the British flag would be flying at her peak and her captain
would take possession of New Switzerland and hoist the British flag on
the summit of Prospect Hill.

When they had finished their inspection of the island the two brothers
climbed the hill and went to the hangar where the battery stood.

Standing upon the edge of the upper terrace they swept with their
telescopes the whole vast segment of sea contained between False Hope
Point and the cape which shut in Deliverance Bay to the east.

Nothing but a desert waste of water! Right out to the extreme horizon,
where sky and ocean met, nothing was to be seen except, three or four
miles away to the north-east, the reef on which the _Landlord_ had run
aground.

Turning their eyes towards False Hope Point, Fritz and Jack perceived
between the trees upon the hill the belvidere of the villa at Prospect
Hill. The summer dwelling was still standing--which would be a
satisfaction to M. Zermatt, who was constantly afraid that it might be
destroyed by some of the sudden squalls of the rainy season.

The two brothers went into the hangar, which the storms had spared,
although there had been more than enough thunderstorms and squalls
during the two and a half months that the winter had lasted.

Their next business was to run up to the head of the mast near the
hangar the red and white flag which would wave there until the end of
autumn, and to honour it with the annual salute of two guns.

While Jack was busy taking the flag out of its case and fastening it
by the corners to the halyard, Fritz examined the two carronades that
were pointed towards the open sea. They were both in good condition,
and only required to be loaded. In order to economise powder, Fritz
was careful to use a wad of damped sod, as it was his practice to do,
which increased the intensity of the discharge. Then he fixed in the
touch-hole the quick match which would fire the gun the instant the
flag reached the top of the mast.

It was then half past seven in the morning. The sky, cleared now of the
mists of early dawn, was absolutely serene. Only towards the west a few
wisps of cloud rose in delicate spirals. The breeze seemed dying down.
The bay, glittering beneath the streaming rays of the sun, was almost
dead calm.

As soon as he had finished, Fritz asked his brother if he was ready.

"When you like, Fritz," Jack answered, satisfying himself that the
halyard would run without catching on the roof of the hangar.

"Number one, fire! Number two, fire!" cried Fritz, who took himself
very seriously as artilleryman.

The two shots rang out one after the other while the red and white
bunting fluttered out in the breeze.

Fritz busied himself reloading the two guns. But he had hardly put the
cartridge in the second cannon when he jumped upright.

A distant detonation had just struck upon his ear.

At once Jack and he rushed out of the hangar.

"A gun!" cried Jack.

"No!" said Fritz. "It isn't possible. We are mistaken."

"Listen!" answered Jack, scarcely breathing.

A second detonation rang through the air, and then after an interval of
a minute a third resounded.

"Yes, yes!" Jack insisted. "Those are cannon shots all right."

"And they came from the east," Fritz added.

Was it really a ship, passing within sight of New Switzerland, that had
replied to the double discharge from Shark's Island, and would that
ship steer her course for Deliverance Bay?




                              CHAPTER II

                      FRITZ AND JACK PLAY SAVAGES


Directly the double report rang out from the battery on Shark's Island
the echoes of Rock Castle repeated it from cliff to cliff. M. Zermatt
and his wife, Jenny, Ernest, and Frank, running down at once to the
beach, could see the whitish smoke of the two guns drifting slowly in
the direction of Falconhurst. Waving their handkerchiefs, they answered
with a cheer.

Then all were preparing to resume their several occupations when Jenny,
who was looking towards the island through her telescope, exclaimed:

"Fritz and Jack are coming back."

"Already?" said Ernest. "Why, they have barely had time to reload the
guns. Why are they in such a hurry to get back to us?"

"They certainly do seem to be in a hurry," M. Zermatt replied.

There could be no doubt that the moving speck revealed by the telescope
a little to the right of the island was the frail boat being lifted
swiftly along by the paddles.

"It is certainly odd," said Mme. Zermatt. "Can they have any news for
us--important news?"

"I think they have," Jenny answered.

Would the news be good or bad? That was the question each one asked
himself without attempting to answer it.

All eyes were fastened on the canoe which was growing larger to the
sight. In a quarter of an hour it was halfway between Shark's Island
and the mouth of Jackal River. Fritz had not hoisted his little sail,
for the breeze was dropping, and by paddling the two brothers travelled
faster than the wind over the almost unruffled waters of Deliverance
Bay.

It occurred to M. Zermatt's mind that this hurried return might be a
flight, and he wondered whether there would appear in chase some canoe
full of savages, or even a pirate vessel from the open sea. But he did
not communicate this highly alarming idea to anyone else. Followed by
Betsy, Jenny, Ernest and Frank, he hurried to the far end of the creek,
in haste to question Fritz and Jack.

A quarter of an hour later the canoe stopped by the nearest rocks,
which served as landing stage, at the end of the creek.

"What is the matter?" M. Zermatt cried.

Fritz and Jack jumped out onto the beach. Quite out of breath, their
faces bathed in perspiration and their arms worn out with exertion,
they could only answer with gestures at first, pointing to the coast
east of Deliverance Bay.

"What is the matter?" Frank repeated, grasping Fritz's arm.

"Didn't you hear?" Fritz asked at last when he had recovered his
breath.

"Yes: you mean the two guns you fired from the Shark's battery?" said
Ernest.

"No," Jack answered; "not ours; those that answered!"

"What?" M. Zermatt exclaimed. "Reports?"

"It isn't possible! It isn't possible!" Mme. Zermatt repeated.

Jenny had drawn near Fritz, and, pale with excitement, she asked in her
turn:

"Did you hear reports near here?"

"Yes, Jenny," Fritz answered; "three guns fired at regular intervals."

Fritz spoke so positively that it was impossible to believe he had made
a mistake. Besides, Jack confirmed what his brother said, adding:

"There can't be any doubt a ship is off New Switzerland and that her
attention has been caught by the discharge of our two cannon."

"A ship! A ship!" whispered Jenny.

"And you are sure it was to the eastward?" M. Zermatt insisted.

"Yes, to the eastward," Fritz declared; "and I am sure now that
Deliverance Bay can only be a few miles from the main sea."

This was very likely the case; but no one knew, as no exploration had
yet been carried out along that coast.

Great was the emotion of the inhabitants of New Switzerland after the
first moment of surprise, almost of stupefaction.

A ship--there really was a ship within sight, a ship, the report of
whose guns had been borne by the breeze to Shark's Island! It was a
connecting link by which this unknown land, where for eleven years the
survivors of the wreck of the _Landlord_ had lived, was united once
more to the rest of the inhabited world! The cannon is the deep voice
of ships that make long voyages, and that voice had just been heard
for the first time since the battery on Shark's Island welcomed the
returning dry season! It was almost as if this happening, on which they
had ceased to count, took M. Zermatt and his people unprepared, as if
this ship spoke a tongue which they had forgotten.

However, they pulled themselves together and only thought of the bright
side of this new situation. This distant sound which had reached them
was not one of those sounds of nature to which they had been so long
accustomed, the snapping of trees by the violence of the gale, the
roar of the sea broken by the tempest, the crash of the thunder in the
mighty storms of this intertropical zone. No! This sound was caused by
the hand of man! The captain and the crew of the ship which was passing
by at sea could no longer suppose that this land was uninhabited. If
they should come to anchor in the bay their flag would salute the flag
of New Switzerland!

There was none of them but saw there the certainty of an impending
deliverance. Mme. Zermatt felt herself freed from fears of the future;
Jenny thought of her father, whom she had despaired of ever seeing
again; M. Zermatt and his sons found themselves once more among their
kind.

So the first emotion felt by this family was that caused by the
realisation of their dearest wishes. Thinking only of the happy side of
this great event, they were all full of hope and of gratitude to heaven.

"It is right that we should first give thanks to God, Whose protection
has never failed us," said Frank. "It is to Him that our thanks ought
to ascend and to Him that our prayers should be given."

It was natural for Frank to express himself so. His religious feelings
had always been deep, and had become even deeper as he grew older. His
was an upright, tranquil character, full of affection for his people,
that is to say for what had been all human kind to him hitherto.
Although the youngest of the brothers, he was yet their counsellor
in the very few disputes that arose between the members of this most
united family.

What would his vocation have been if he had lived in his native
land? No doubt he would have sought in medicine, or the law, or the
priesthood to satisfy the devotional need which was the basis of his
being, as physical activity was in the case of Fritz and Jack, and
intellectual activity in the case of Ernest. And so he sent up a
fervent prayer to Providence, in which he was joined by his father and
mother, his brothers, and Jenny.

It was necessary to act without delay. The ship, of whose presence
no one would any longer admit a doubt, was probably anchored in one
of the little bays along the coast, and was not passing by off New
Switzerland. Would the sound of the guns to which it had replied
induce it to set about the exploration of this land? Would it even try,
perhaps, to make its entry into Deliverance Bay, after doubling the
cape which closed it in to the east?

That was what Fritz maintained, and he wound up his argument by saying:

"The only thing we have to do is to go and meet this ship, following
along the eastern coast, which must run from north to south."

"Perhaps we have waited too long as it is," said Jenny.

"I don't think so," Ernest answered. "It is out of the question that
the captain of this ship, whatever it is, won't try to find out all
about it."

"What is the good of all this talk, talk!" cried Jack. "Let us go!"

"Give us time to get the launch ready," said M. Zermatt.

"It would take too long," Fritz declared, "and the canoe will serve."

"Very well," said M. Zermatt. Then he added: "The important point is to
behave with the utmost caution. I do not think it likely that any Malay
or Australian savages have landed on the eastern coast, but the Indian
Ocean is infested by pirates, and we should have everything to fear
from them."

"Yes," said Mme. Zermatt, "and it would be better for this ship to go
away if----"

"I will go myself," M. Zermatt declared. "Before we get into
communication with these strangers we must know with whom we have to
deal."

This decision was a wise one. It only remained to put it into
execution. But as ill luck would have it, the weather had changed since
the early morning. After having dropped, the wind had now veered to the
west and was freshening perceptibly. The canoe could not have ventured
into the bay, even if it had only been a matter of getting to Shark's
Island. The sky was covered with clouds which were rising out of the
west, squall clouds of which a sailor is always mistrustful.

But, failing the canoe, and although it might involve a delay of an
hour or two in getting her ready, was it not possible to use the
launch, heavy as the swell might be outside the mouth of the bay?

Hugely to his disappointment, M. Zermatt was obliged to abandon the
idea. Before midday a veritable tempest was tossing the waters of
Deliverance Bay, rendering them unnavigable. Even if this sudden
change of weather could not last at this time of the year, at least it
thwarted all their plans, and if the storm endured only twenty-four
hours it might still be too late for them to find the ship. Besides,
if its anchorage did not offer it absolute protection, it would almost
certainly leave, and, with this wind blowing from the west, it would
speedily be out of sight of New Switzerland.

Ernest, on the other hand, argued that the vessel would perhaps try to
take refuge in Deliverance Bay if it happened to double the cape to the
east.

"That is possible, it is true," M. Zermatt replied, "and is even very
much to be wished, provided it is not pirates we have to deal with."

"Well, we will keep watch, Papa," said Frank. "We will keep watch all
day, and all night, too."

"If we could get to Prospect Hill, or even only to Falconhurst," Jack
added, "we should be in a better position still to keep watch over the
sea."

Obviously, but it was idle to think of that. During the afternoon the
weather became worse. The fury of the squalls was twice as violent. The
rain fell in such torrents that Jackal River overflowed its banks, and
Family Bridge was within an ace of being swept away. M. Zermatt and his
sons kept an unceasing vigil, and it was all they could do to prevent
the flood from invading the enclosure of Rock Castle. Betsy and Jenny
were unable to set foot outside. Never did day pass more heavily, and
if the ship went away was it not only too certain that it would not
return to these same waters?

When night came, the violence of the storm increased further. On the
advice of M. Zermatt, who was compelled by his children to take some
rest, Fritz, Jack, and Frank took it in turns to watch until day. From
the gallery, which they did not leave, they had a view of the sea as
far as Shark's Island. If any ship's light had appeared at the mouth
of the bay they would have seen it; if any gun had rung out they would
have heard it, in spite of the tumult of the waves which were breaking
upon the rocks with an appalling din. When the squall abated, somewhat,
all four wrapped themselves in their oilskins and went as far as the
mouth of Jackal River, to satisfy themselves that the launch and the
pinnace had not dragged their anchors.

The storm lasted for forty-eight hours. During the whole of that time
M. Zermatt and his sons were barely able to get as far as halfway to
Falconhurst in order to survey a wider sweep of horizon. The sea, white
with the foam of rolling waves, was absolutely deserted. Indeed, no
ship would have dared to venture close to shore during a storm like
this.

M. Zermatt and his wife had already given up their hopes. Ernest, Jack,
and Frank, who had been accustomed to their present existence since
childhood, did not very greatly regret the loss of this opportunity.
But Fritz regretted it for their sake, or rather for Jenny's sake.

If the ship had gone away and were never to return to these waters,
what a disappointment it would be for Colonel Montrose's daughter! The
chance of being restored to her father was slipping away. How long a
time would elapse before this opportunity of returning to Europe would
present itself again! Would it ever do so, indeed?

"Don't give up hope! Don't give up hope!" Fritz said over and over
again, overwhelmed by Jenny's distress. "This ship will come back, or
some other must come, since New Switzerland is now known!"

During the night of the 11th of October the wind veered back to the
north and the spell of bad weather came to an end. Inside Deliverance
Bay the sea dropped quickly, and with daybreak the rollers ceased to
sweep onto Rock Castle beach.

The whole family left the enclosure and turned their eyes out to the
open sea.

"Let us go to Shark's Island," was Fritz's immediate suggestion. "There
is no risk for the canoe."

"What will you do there?" Mme. Zermatt asked.

"Perhaps the ship is still lying up under shelter of the coast; and
even supposing it was compelled by the storm to stand out to sea, may
it not have come back again? Let us fire a few guns, and if they are
answered----"

"Yes, Fritz, yes!" cried Jenny eagerly.

"Fritz is right," said M. Zermatt. "We must not neglect any chance. If
the ship is there she will hear us and make herself heard."

The canoe was ready in a few minutes. But as Fritz was about to take
his seat in it M. Zermatt advised him to remain at Rock Castle with
his mother, his brothers, and Jenny. Jack would accompany his father.
They would take a flag in order to indicate whether there was any
good news or whether any danger threatened them. In the latter case
M. Zermatt would wave the flag three times and then throw it into the
sea, and Fritz was at once to take the whole family to Falconhurst. M.
Zermatt and Jack would join them there as speedily as possible, and
if necessary they would then take refuge at Wood Grange or Sugar-cane
Grove, or even at the hermitage at Eberfurt. On the other hand, if M.
Zermatt waved his flag twice and then planted it near the battery,
that would signify that there was no ground for anxiety, and Fritz
would await his return at Rock Castle.

Jack had brought the canoe to the foot of the rocks. He and his father
stepped into it. A few cables' length outside the creek the heavy swell
had given place to a slightly choppy sea. Driven by its paddles the
boat sped rapidly towards Shark's Island.

M. Zermatt's heart beat fast when he drew alongside the end of the
island; and it was at the top of their speed that he and Jack climbed
the little hill.

Outside the hangar they stopped. From that point their eyes swept the
wide horizon between the eastern cape and False Hope Point.

Not a sail was to be seen upon the sea, which was still rolling heavily
far out.

Just as they were about to go inside the hangar M. Zermatt said for the
last time to Jack:

"You are quite sure you heard----"

"Absolutely positive," Jack answered. "They really were reports that
came from the eastward."

"God grant it!" said M. Zermatt.

As the guns had been reloaded by Fritz they only needed to have the
match applied.

"Jack," said M. Zermatt, "you are to fire two shots at an interval of
two minutes, and then you will reload the first gun and fire a third
time."

"Very well, papa," Jack replied; "and you?"

"I am going to station myself at the edge of the plateau that faces
east, and if a report comes from that side I shall be in a good place
to hear it."

As the wind had changed to the north, although it was very faint, the
conditions were favourable. Any reports of heavy runs coming either
from the west or the east must be heard easily, provided the distance
were not more than three or four miles.

M. Zermatt took up his position by the side of the hangar.

Jack fired three guns from the battery at the intervals arranged. Then
he ran at once to his father's side, and both stayed motionless, their
ears strained towards the east.

A first report came distinctly to Shark's Island.

"Papa!" cried Jack, "the ship is still there!"

"Listen!" M. Zermatt rejoined.

Six other reports, at regular intervals, followed the first. The ship
was not only answering, but seeming to say that things must not remain
as they were.

M. Zermatt waved his flag and planted it near the battery.

If the reports of the ship's guns had not reached Rock Castle, at all
events the people there would know that there was no danger to be
feared.

And half an hour later, when the canoe had reached the creek again,
Jack called out:

"Seven guns! They fired seven guns!"

"May heaven be praised sevenfold!" was Frank's reply.

Deeply moved, Jenny seized Fritz's hand. Then she flung herself into
the arms of Mme. Zermatt, who wiped away her tears and kissed her.

There was no doubt now about the presence of the ship. For some reason
or another it must be lying up in one of the bays along the eastern
coast. Possibly it had not been obliged to leave the bay during
the storm; now, it would not leave without having got into direct
communication with the inhabitants of this unknown land, and perhaps
the best course would be to wait until it came in sight of the bay.

"No, let us go, let us go!" Jack insisted. "Let us go at once!"

But the cautious Ernest suggested some considerations of which M.
Zermatt expressed approval.

How were they to find out what the ship's nationality was? Was it not
possible that she might be manned by pirates who, as every one knows,
were very numerous in the waters of the Indian Ocean at this period?

"Well," Fritz declared, "they must be answered as quickly as possible."

"Yes, yes, they must!" Jenny repeated, unable to control her impatience.

"I am going to put off in the canoe," Fritz added, "and since the state
of the sea now allows of it, I shall have no difficulty in getting
round the eastern cape."

"Very well," M. Zermatt replied, "for we cannot remain in this state
of uncertainty. Still, before boarding this vessel it is necessary to
know all about it. I will come with you, Fritz."

Jack intervened.

"Papa," he said, "I am accustomed to paddling; it will take more than
two hours merely to reach the cape, and it may be a long way then to
where the ship is anchored. I must go with Fritz."

"That will be much better," Fritz added.

M. Zermatt hesitated. He felt that he ought to take part in an
undertaking like this, which called for caution.

"Yes, let Fritz and Jack go," Mme. Zermatt put in. "We can leave it to
them."

M. Zermatt yielded, and the most earnest injunctions were given to the
two brothers. After rounding the cape they were to follow the shore,
glide between the rocks that studded that part of the coast, see before
being seen, only ascertain the position of the vessel, on no account
go aboard, and come back at once to Rock Castle. M. Zermatt would then
decide what course to pursue. If Fritz and Jack could avoid being seen
at all it would be better.

Perhaps--too--as Ernest suggested--Fritz and Jack might manage to be
taken for savages. Why should they not dress themselves up like savages
and then blacken their faces and arms and hands, as Fritz had done
once, when he brought Jenny back to Pearl Bay? The ship's crew would be
less astonished to meet black men on this land in the Indian Ocean.

Ernest's suggestion was a good one. The two brothers disguised
themselves as natives of the Nicobars, and then rubbed soot all over
their faces and arms. Then they embarked in the canoe, and half an hour
later it was past the mouth of the bay.

Those left behind followed the canoe with their eyes as long as it was
visible, and only returned to Rock Castle after they had watched it go
out of Deliverance Bay.

Off Shark's Island Fritz manœuvred so as to get near the opposite
shore. If a boat put off from the ship and rounded the extreme point,
the canoe would have time to hide behind the reefs and remain on watch.

It took quite two hours to reach the cape, for the distance was more
than five miles. With the breeze blowing from the north it would have
been useless to set the little sail. It is true, the ebb tide had been
favourable to the progress of the cockleshell of a boat.

This cape was about to be rounded for the first time since the Zermatt
family had found refuge in Deliverance Bay. What a contrast it
offered to False Hope Point, which was outlined ten miles away to the
north-west! What an arid front this eastern part of New Switzerland
presented! The coast, covered with sand dunes and bristling with black
rocks, was set with reefs that stretched out several hundred fathoms
beyond the promontory against which the ocean swell, even in fine
weather, broke with never flagging violence.

When the canoe had rounded the furthest rocks, the eastern shore
revealed itself before the eyes of Fritz and Jack. It ran almost due
north to south, forming the boundary of New Switzerland on this side.
Unless it was an island, therefore, it must be on the south that this
land was joined to a continent.

The canoe skirted the coastline in such a way as to be
indistinguishable from the rocks.

A couple of miles beyond, within a narrow bay, a vessel appeared, a
three-master, with top-gallant-sails unstepped, undergoing repairs at
this anchorage. Upon the neighbouring beach several tents were pitched.

The canoe approached within half-a-dozen cables' length of the vessel.
The moment they were seen neither Fritz nor Jack could fail to
apprehend the signs of friendship made to them from on board. They even
heard a few sentences spoken in the English language, and it was clear
that they were being taken for savages.

On their part they could be in no doubt as to the nationality of this
vessel. The British flag was flying from the mizzen. She was an English
corvette carrying ten guns.

Thus, there would have been no objection to opening communication with
the captain of this corvette.

Jack would have liked to, but Fritz would not permit it. He had
promised to return to Rock Castle the moment he had ascertained the
position and the nationality of the ship, and he meant to keep his
promise. So the canoe resumed her northward course once more, and after
a voyage lasting two and a half hours passed through the entrance into
Deliverance Bay.




                              CHAPTER III

                    THE BRITISH CORVETTE "UNICORN"


The _Unicorn_, a small ten gun corvette, flying the British flag, was
on her way from Sydney to the Cape of Good Hope. Her commander was
Lieutenant Littlestone, and she had a crew of sixty men. Although
ordinarily a war-ship carries no passengers the _Unicorn_ had received
official permission to take on board an English family, the head of
which was compelled by considerations of health to return to Europe.
This family consisted of Mr. Wolston, a mechanical engineer, his wife,
Merry Wolston, and his two daughters Hannah and Dolly, aged seventeen
and fourteen, respectively. Mr. and Mrs. Wolston also had a son, James,
who at this time was living in Cape Town with his wife and young son.

The _Unicorn_ had left Sydney harbour in July, 1816, and after skirting
the southern coast of Australia had turned her course towards the
north-east waters of the Indian Ocean.

Lieutenant Littlestone had been ordered by the Admiralty to cruise
about these latitudes and endeavour to find, either upon the western
coast of Australia or in the neighbouring islands, traces of the
existence of any survivors of the _Dorcas_, of whom no news had been
heard for two and a half years.

It was not known precisely where the wreck had occurred, although there
was no doubt about the catastrophe, since the second mate and three
men of the crew had been picked up at sea and taken to Sydney, only
those four out of all who were in the ship's longboat. As for Captain
Greenfield, the sailors and the passengers--the daughter of Colonel
Montrose among them--it would have been difficult to cherish any hope
of their recovery after the story told of the wreck by the second
mate. However, the British Government had desired that further search
should be made in this portion of the Indian Ocean as well as in the
approaches to the Timor Sea. There are many islands there not much
frequented by trading vessels, and it was desirable to pay a visit to
those in the neighbourhood of the seas where the _Dorcas_ had probably
been lost.

So, after doubling Cape Leeuwin, at the south-west extremity of
Australia, the _Unicorn_ had borne northwards. She touched at a few of
the Sunday Islands without result, and resumed her journey to the Cape.
It was then that she met with a succession of violent storms against
which she had to struggle for a whole week, sustaining serious damage,
which compelled her to seek some anchorage for repairs.

On the 8th of October the lookout descried to the southward a land--in
all probability an island--which was not marked in the latest charts.
Lieutenant Littlestone steered for this land and found refuge in the
heart of a bay on its eastern coast which was completely sheltered
from adverse winds and offered an excellent anchorage.

The crew set to work at once. Tents were pitched on the beach at the
foot of the cliff. A regular camp was arranged, and every precaution
taken that prudence dictated. It was quite possible that this coast was
inhabited or visited by savages, and as everybody knows the natives of
the Indian Ocean have an evil reputation.

The _Unicorn_ had been at her moorings for two days when, on the
morning of the 10th of October, the attention of the commander and the
crew was arrested by a double detonation coming from the west.

This double report was entitled to a reply, and the _Unicorn_ answered
with the discharge of three guns from her port side.

Lieutenant Littlestone could do nothing but wait. His ship, being still
in dock undergoing repair, could not have got under way and rounded the
cape on the north-east. Several days were required before she would
be in a condition to put to sea. And in any case, he assumed that the
corvette's guns had been heard, since the wind was blowing off the sea,
and he quite expected to see some ship come within sight of the bay at
any moment.

So lookout men were posted at the mast-head. Evening came yet no sail
had appeared. The sea to the north was absolutely deserted, as was that
portion of the coast bounded by the bend of the bay. As for landing a
detachment of men and sending it to reconnoitre, Lieutenant Littlestone
decided not to do this from prudential considerations. Besides, the
circumstances did not appear to demand it imperatively. Directly the
_Unicorn_ was in a fit state to leave her moorings she would follow
round the coastline of this land, whose precise position had now been
definitely fixed as latitude 19° 30′, longitude 114° 5′ east of the
meridian of Ferro Island which belongs to the Canary Islands group in
the Atlantic Ocean.

Three days passed without anything fresh happening, except, indeed, a
violent storm, which caused wide and profound disturbance but left the
_Unicorn_ unharmed under the protection of the coast.

[Illustration: "A violent storm causes "Unicorn" to seek protection of
the coast."]

On the 13th of October several reports of cannon were heard from the
same direction as the former ones.

To this fire, each discharge of which was separated by an interval
of two minutes, the _Unicorn_ replied with seven guns fired at equal
intervals. Inasmuch as the new reports did not seem to come from
any nearer point than those which had preceded them, the commander
concluded that the ship whence they proceeded could not have changed
her position in the meantime.

On this same day, about four o'clock in the afternoon, Lieutenant
Littlestone, while pacing the bridge with his spyglass in use, caught
sight of a little boat. Manned by two men, it was gliding between the
rocks, coming from the promontory. These men, who were black-skinned,
could only be Malay or Australian aborigines. Their presence was proof
that this portion of the coast was inhabited, and accordingly steps
were taken to be prepared for an attack, an eventuality always to be
feared in these waters of the Indian Ocean.

However, the canoe drew near, a craft resembling an Esquimau kayak. It
was allowed to approach. But when it was within three cables' length of
the corvette, the two savages spoke in a language which was absolutely
unintelligible.

Lieutenant Littlestone and his officers waved their handkerchiefs and
held up their hands to show that they were unarmed. But the canoe
showed no disposition to draw nearer. A moment later it sped rapidly
away, to disappear behind the promontory.

At nightfall Lieutenant Littlestone took counsel with his officers as
to sending the ship's longboat to reconnoitre the northern coast. The
situation was certainly one which required to be cleared up. It could
not have been the aborigines who had fired the guns which had been
heard in the morning. Beyond all question there must be a ship on the
west of the island, and perhaps she was in distress and asking for
assistance.

Accordingly it was decided that a reconnaissance should be made next
morning in that direction and the ship's boat was on the point of being
launched, at nine o'clock, when Lieutenant Littlestone stopped the
proceedings.

There had just appeared at the extreme point of the cape, not a kayak,
nor yet one of the canoes commonly in use among the aborigines, but a
light vessel of modern construction, a pinnace of some fifteen tons.
As soon as she had drawn near the _Unicorn_ she hoisted a red and white
flag.

The astonishment of the commander, officers, and crew of the corvette
can be imagined when they saw a canoe put off from the pinnace,
carrying a white flag at the stern in sign of friendship, and make
straight for the corvette.

Two men came aboard the _Unicorn_ and introduced themselves. They were
Swiss, Jean Zermatt and his eldest son Fritz, survivors of the wrecked
_Landlord_, of whom no news had ever been heard.

The Englishmen welcomed most heartily the father and son, and
Lieutenant Littlestone responded with alacrity to the invitation they
gave him to go on board their pinnace.

It was only natural that M. Zermatt should feel some pride when
presenting the commander of the _Unicorn_ first to his brave helpmate
and then to his other three sons. It was impossible not to admire their
resolute bearing, their intelligent faces, their splendid health. Every
member of this family was good to look upon. Then Jenny was introduced
to Lieutenant Littlestone.

"But what land is this, where you have been living for these twelve
years past, M. Zermatt?" he enquired.

"We have named it New Switzerland," M. Zermatt replied, "a name which
it will always keep, I hope."

"Is it an island, commander?" Fritz asked.

"Yes: an island in the Indian Ocean, which was not marked on the
charts."

"We did not know that it was an island," Ernest observed, "for we have
never left this part of the coast, fearing that we might meet with
danger."

"You did right, for we have seen some aborigines," Lieutenant
Littlestone replied.

"Aborigines?" echoed Fritz, unable to conceal his surprise.

"Sure," the commander declared. "Yesterday--in a kind of canoe, or
rather a kayak."

"Those aborigines were only my brother and myself," Jack answered,
laughing. "We blackened our faces and arms in order to be taken for
savages."

"Why disguise yourselves?"

"Because we did not know whom we had to deal with, commander, and your
ship might have been a pirate ship!"

"Oh!" said Lieutenant Littlestone. "One of the ships of His Majesty
King George III.!"

"I quite agree," Fritz replied, "but we thought it better to get back
to our dwelling at Rock Castle so as to return all together."

"I must add," M. Zermatt put in, "that we should have done so at break
of day. Fritz and Jack had observed that your corvette was undergoing
repairs, and so we were sure of finding her in this bay."

Jenny's happiness was great when the commander told her that he knew
Colonel Montrose by name. Further, before the _Unicorn_ had sailed for
the Indian Ocean the papers had reported the Colonel's arrival at
Portsmouth, and later in London. But since, subsequently to this, the
news had been published that the passengers and crew of the _Dorcas_
had all perished, with the exception of the second mate and the three
sailors landed at Sydney, one can imagine the despair that must have
racked the unhappy father at the thought of his daughter's death. His
grief could only be equalled by his joy when he should learn that Jenny
had survived the wreck of the _Dorcas_.

Meanwhile the pinnace was getting ready to return to Deliverance Bay,
where M. and Mme. Zermatt proposed to offer hospitality to Lieutenant
Littlestone. The latter, however, wished to keep them until the end of
the day. And then, as they agreed to spend the night in the bay, three
tents were pitched at the foot of the rocks, one for the four sons,
another for the father and mother, and the third for Jenny Montrose.

And then the history of the Zermatt family could be related in full
detail, from the moment of their setting foot on this land of New
Switzerland. It was only natural that the commander and his officers
should express their keen desire to go and see the arrangements of the
little colony and the comfortable accommodations they had made at Rock
Castle and Falconhurst.

After an excellent repast served on board the _Unicorn_, M. and Mme.
Zermatt with their four sons and Jenny took leave of Lieutenant
Littlestone and sought the shelter of the tents within the bay.

When he was alone with his wife M. Zermatt spoke to her as follows:

"My dear Betsy, an opportunity is afforded us of returning to Europe,
of seeing our fellow-countrymen and our friends once more. But it
behooves us to think that our position is altered now. New Switzerland
is no longer an unknown island. Other ships will be putting in here
before long."

"Of what are you doubtful?" Mme. Zermatt asked.

"I am trying to decide whether or not we should take advantage of this
opportunity."

"My dear," Betsy replied, "ever since yesterday I have been thinking
earnestly, and this is the result. Why should we leave this land, where
we are so happy? Why should we try to renew relations which time and
absence must have broken altogether? Have we not come to an age when
one longs too ardently for rest to face the risks of a long voyage?"

"Ah! my dear wife," cried M. Zermatt, embracing her, "you have
understood me! Yes, it would be almost like ingratitude to Heaven to
forsake our New Switzerland! But it is not we alone who are concerned.
Our children----"

"Our children," Betsy rejoined. "I quite understand that they should
long to return to their own country. They are young; they have the
future before them; and although their absence must be a great grief to
us, it is only right to leave them free."

"You are right, Betsy; I agree with you."

"Let our boys sail on the _Unicorn_, my dear. If they go, they will
come back."

"And we must think of Jenny, too," said M. Zermatt. "We cannot forget
that her father, Colonel Montrose, has been in England two years, has
been mourning her for two years. It is only natural that she should
want to see her father again."

"It will be a great sorrow for us when we see her go," Betsy replied;
"she has become a daughter to us. Fritz has a deep affection for her,
and the affection is returned. But Jenny is not ours to dispose of."

M. and Mme. Zermatt talked long of all these things. They quite
realised the consequences involved by the alteration in their
situation, and it was at a very late hour that night that sleep came to
them.

The next day, after having left the bay, rounded Cape East, and gained
Deliverance Bay, the pinnace landed Lieutenant Littlestone, two of his
officers, the Zermatt family, and the Wolstons at the mouth of Jackal
River.

The Englishmen were as full of admiration and surprise as Jenny
Montrose had been when visiting Rock Castle for the first time. M.
Zermatt received his guests at his winter habitation before taking
them to see the chateau of Falconhurst, the villa at Prospect Hill,
the farms at Wood Grange and Sugar-cane Grove, and the hermitage at
Eberfurt. Lieutenant Littlestone and his officers could not fail to
marvel at the prosperity of this Promised Land, all due to the courage
and intelligence of a shipwrecked family during their eleven years'
stay on this island. At the end of the repast which was served to them
in the great hall of Rock Castle they did not forget to drink a toast
in honour of the colonists of New Switzerland.

In the course of this day Mr. Wolston, with his wife and his two
daughters, had an opportunity of becoming much more intimate with M.
and Mme. Zermatt. Before they separated for the night, Mr. Wolston
spoke thus:

"M. Zermatt, have I your permission to speak quite frankly and
confidentially?"

"Of course."

"The existence you lead upon this island delights me," said Mr.
Wolston. "I fancy I am better already in the midst of all these
beauties of nature, and I should think myself fortunate to live in a
corner of your Promised Land, provided, of course, you would be so kind
as to give your consent."

"Rest assured of it, Mr. Wolston!" M. Zermatt replied with enthusiasm.
"My wife and I would be enchanted to admit you a member of our little
colony and to share its happiness with you. Moreover, so far as we
two are concerned, we have made up our minds to end our days in New
Switzerland, which has become our second fatherland, and our intention
is never to leave it."

"Three cheers for New Switzerland!" cried their guests gaily.

And in honour of New Switzerland they emptied their glasses which had
been filled with the Canary wine which Mme. Zermatt substituted for the
native wine on great occasions.

"And three cheers for those who want to stay here whatever happens!"
added Ernest and Jack.

Fritz had not said a word, and Jenny was silent and hung her head.

Afterwards, when the visitors had gone in the ship's boat sent from
the _Unicorn_ to fetch them, and Fritz was alone with his mother he
embraced her without venturing to speak.

Then seeing her so affected by the idea that her eldest son was
thinking of leaving her, he dropped upon his knees beside her and cried:

"No, mother, no; I will not go away!"

And Jenny, who had joined them, threw herself into Mme. Zermatt's arms
and said over and over again:

"Forgive me! forgive me, if I am causing you pain; I who love you as if
you were my own mother! But, over there ... my father ... have I any
right to hesitate?"

Mme. Zermatt and Jenny remained together. And when their conversation
was ended it seemed as if Betsy were almost resigned to a separation.

M. Zermatt and Fritz came back at this moment and Jenny returned to M.
Zermatt.

"My father," she said--it was the first time that she had so addressed
him--"bless me as my mother has just blessed me! Let me--let us--leave
for Europe! Your children will come back to you, and you need not fear
that anything can ever separate them from you. Colonel Montrose is a
man of feeling who will wish to pay his daughter's debt. Let Fritz come
to England to meet him. Trust us to each other. Your son will answer
for me as I will answer for him!"

Finally, this was what was arranged, with the consent of the commander
of the _Unicorn_. The landing of the Wolstons would set some berths
on the corvette free. Fritz, Frank, and Jenny were to embark upon her
accompanied by Dolly, the younger of the Wolston girls. Dolly was to go
to Cape Town to join her brother whom she would then bring back to New
Switzerland with his wife and child. As for Ernest and Jack, they would
not hear of leaving their parents.

Lieutenant Littlestone's mission was accomplished, for he had found
Jenny Montrose, the sole survivor of the passengers on the _Dorcas_,
and in this island of New Switzerland had discovered an excellent
anchorage in the Indian Ocean. And since M. Zermatt, who in his
capacity of its first occupier was its owner, desired to offer it to
Great Britain, Lieutenant Littlestone promised to take the matter to a
satisfactory conclusion and to bring back the formal acceptance of the
British Government.

The presumption, therefore, was that the _Unicorn_ would return to take
possession of the island. She would bring back Fritz, Frank, and Jenny
Montrose, and would also embark at Cape Town James Wolston with his
sister Dolly, and his wife and child. Fritz would provide himself,
with the consent of M. and Mme. Zermatt, with the papers necessary for
his marriage--a marriage of which Colonel Montrose would be delighted
to approve. Everybody took it for granted that the colonel would want
to accompany the young couple to New Switzerland.

So everything was arranged. But still it would not be without much
sorrow that the members of the Zermatt family would be separated for a
time. Of course when Fritz came back, with Frank and Jenny, and Jenny's
father, with perhaps other colonists who might ask leave to accompany
them, there would be nothing but happiness--happiness that nothing
would disturb thereafter, and a prosperous future for the colony!

Preparations were made at once for the start. A few days more and the
_Unicorn_ would be ready to leave the bay upon the coast to which her
name had been given. Directly her rigging had been repaired and reset,
the corvette would stand out to sea again and turn her course towards
the Cape of Good Hope.

Jenny naturally wanted to take away, or, rather, take to Colonel
Montrose, the few articles she had made with her own hands upon Burning
Rock. Each one of them would be a reminder of the existence she had
endured so bravely during more than two years of utter solitude. So
Frank took charge of these things, which he would guard like priceless
treasure.

M. Zermatt placed in the hands of his two sons everything that had
marketable value and could be converted into money in England, the
pearls, which would produce a considerable sum, the coral picked up
along the islands in Nautilus Bay, the nutmegs and vanilla pods, with
which several sacks were filled. With the cash realised by the sale
of these various products, Fritz was to buy the material and stores
necessary to the colony--stores which would be sent out by the first
ship on which the future colonists might take passage with their own
outfit. The whole would form a cargo large and valuable enough to
require a vessel of several hundred tons.

M. Zermatt, on his part, made various exchanges with Lieutenant
Littlestone. He thus procured several casks of brandy and of wine,
clothes, linen, stores, and a dozen barrels of powder, shot, lead and
bullets. Inasmuch as New Switzerland was able to supply the needs of
her inhabitants, it was of the first importance to make sure of an
adequate supply of fire-arms. These were indispensable, not only for
hunting but also for purposes of self-defence in the event, possible
if unlikely, of the colonists being attacked by pirates or even by
aborigines.

At the same time the commander of the _Unicorn_ undertook to return to
the families of the passengers who had perished the valuable securities
and the jewelry that had been found on board the _Landlord_. As for
the journal of his life which M. Zermatt had kept from day to day,
Fritz was to arrange for its publication in England in order to secure
the place to which New Switzerland was entitled in geographical
nomenclature.[1]

[Footnote 1: It was this journal which appeared under the title of "The
Swiss Family Robinson."]

All these preparations were completed the day before the departure.
Every moment that Lieutenant Littlestone could spare from his work
he spent in the bosom of the Zermatt family. All hoped that before a
year should have passed, after touching at the Cape, and after having
received in London the Admiralty's orders with respect to the colony,
he would return to take official possession of it in the name of Great
Britain. When the _Unicorn_ returned the Zermatt family would be
reunited for good and all.

At last the 19th of October arrived.

The day before the corvette had left Unicorn Bay and dropped anchor
within a cable's length from Shark's Island.

It was a sad day for M. and Mme. Zermatt, and for Ernest and Jack, from
whom Fritz and Frank and Jenny would be parting the next morning, and
it was a sad day for Mr. and Mrs. Wolston, too, since their daughter
Dolly was leaving also.

At daybreak the launch took the passengers to Shark's Island. M.
and Mme. Zermatt, Ernest and Jack, Mr. and Mrs. Wolston, and Hannah
accompanied them.

It was on that island at the entrance into Deliverance Bay that the
last farewells were exchanged, while the launch took the baggage to the
corvette.

There could be no question of writing, since no means of communication
existed between England and New Switzerland. No; they only spoke of
seeing each other once more, of returning as speedily as might be, and
of resuming their life together again.

Then the ship's boat of the _Unicorn_ came for Jenny Montrose, for
Dolly Wolston entrusted to her care, and for Fritz and Frank, and took
them on board.

Half an hour later the _Unicorn_ weighed anchor, and with a fair
north-east breeze behind her she stood out to the open sea, after
having saluted the flag of New Switzerland with a discharge of three
guns.

To this salute the guns from the battery on Shark's Island, fired by
Ernest and Jack, replied.

An hour later the top sails of the corvette had disappeared behind the
farthest rocks of False Hope Point.




                              CHAPTER IV

                             A RETROSPECT


It will now be proper to give the reader a summary of the first ten
years spent in New Switzerland by the survivors of the wreck of the
_Landlord_.

On the 7th of October, in the year 1803, a family was cast upon an
unknown land situated in the east of the Indian Ocean.

The head of this family, of Swiss origin, was named Jean Zermatt, his
wife was named Betsy. The former was thirty-five years of age, the
latter thirty-three. They had four children, all sons, in the following
order of birth: Fritz, then fifteen; Ernest, twelve; Jack, ten; and
Frank, six.

It was on the seventh day of an appalling storm that the _Landlord_,
on which they had embarked, was driven out of her course in the midst
of the ocean. Blown southwards, far beyond Batavia, her port of
destination, she struck a mass of rock about four miles from the coast.

M. Zermatt was an intelligent and well-informed man, his wife a brave
and devoted woman. Their children presented varieties of character.
Fritz was bold and active, Ernest the most serious and studious of
the four, though inclined to be selfish, Jack thoughtless and full of
fun, Frank still almost a baby. They were a most united family, quite
capable of doing well even in the terrible conditions into which evil
fortune had just plunged them. Moreover, all of them were animated by
deep religious feeling.

M. Zermatt had realised his few effects and left the land of his birth
to settle in one of those Dutch over-sea possessions which at that time
were at the height of their prosperity, and offered so much promise
to active and hardworking men. Now, after a fair voyage across the
Atlantic and the Indian Oceans, the ship which carried him and his
family had been cast away. He and his wife and children, alone of all
the crew and passengers of the _Landlord_, had survived the wreck. But
it was necessary to abandon without the least delay the ship, entangled
among the rocks of the reef. Her hull rent, her masts broken off, her
keel snapped in half, and exposed to all the waves of the open sea, the
next gale would complete her destruction and scatter her fragments far
and wide.

Fastening half-a-dozen tubs together by means of ropes and planks, M.
Zermatt and his sons succeeded in making a sort of raft, on which all
the family took their seats before the day drew to an end. The sea was
calm, scarcely heaving with a slow swell, and the flowing tide ran
towards the coast. After leaving a long promontory on the starboard
side, the floating raft came ashore in a little bay where a river
emptied itself.

As soon as the various articles brought from the ship had been set
ashore a tent was pitched in this spot which afterwards received the
name of Tent Home. The encampment was gradually completed with the
ship's cargo which M. Zermatt and his sons went on the following days
to take from the hold of the _Landlord_, utensils, furniture, bedding,
tinned meats, grain of various kinds, plants, sporting guns, casks of
wine and liqueurs, tins of biscuits, cheeses and hams, clothes, linen,
everything, in short, which was carried in this four hundred ton vessel
freighted to supply the requirements of a new colony.

They found that game, both furred and feathered, swarmed upon
this coast. Whole flocks and herds were seen, of agoutis, a kind
of hare with head like that of a pig, ondatras, a species of musk
rat, buffaloes, ducks, flamingoes, bustards, grouse, peccaries, and
antelopes. In the waters of the bay which spread beyond the creek was
abundance of salmon, sturgeon, herrings, and a score of other species
of fish, as well as mussels, oysters, lobsters, crayfish, and crabs. In
the surrounding country, where cassava and sweet potatoes flourished,
cotton trees and cocoa trees were growing together with mangroves,
palms and other tropical species.

Thus existence seemed to be assured to these shipwrecked folk, upon
this land of whose bearings they knew nothing at all.

It had been found possible to land a number of domestic animals--Turk,
an English dog; Floss, a Danish bitch; two goats, six sheep, a sow
in farrow, an ass, a cow, and a perfect poultry yard of cocks, hens,
turkeys, geese, ducks, and pigeons, which soon acclimatised themselves
to the surface of the ponds and marshes and the grass lands adjoining
the coast.

The final trips to the ship had emptied it of everything valuable or
useful that it contained. Several four-pounder cannons were conveyed
to the shore for the defence of the encampment, and also a pinnace, a
light vessel which, as all its pieces were numbered, could easily be
put together, and to which the name _Elizabeth_ was given in compliment
to Betsy. M. Zermatt was then master of a ship, brigantine-rigged,
fifteen tons burthen, with square stern and after deck. Thus he had
every facility for exploring the seas either to the east or the west,
and for rounding the neighbouring promontories, one of which broke
away towards the north in a sharp point while the other stretched out
opposite Tent Home.

The mouth of the river was framed within lofty rocks which rendered it
difficult of access, and self-defence there would be easy, at any rate
against wild beasts.

One question which arose was as to whether the Zermatts had reached the
shore of an island or of a continent washed by the waters of the Indian
Ocean. The only information they had on this point was derived from the
bearings taken by the commander of the _Landlord_ before the shipwreck.

The ship was approaching Batavia when she was struck by a storm
which lasted for six days and threw her far out of her course, to
the south-east. The day before the captain had fixed his position
as being latitude 13° 40′ south, and longitude 114° 5′ east of the
island of Ferro in the Canary Group. As the wind had blown constantly
from the north, it was a fair assumption that the longitude had not
varied appreciably. By keeping the meridian at about the hundred
and fourteenth degree, M. Zermatt concluded from an observation of
latitude, taken with a sextant, that the _Landlord_ must have drifted
approximately six degrees southward, and consequently, that the coast
of Tent Home could be located between the nineteenth and the twentieth
parallels.

It followed that this land must be, in round figures, between six and
seven hundred miles west of Australia. And so, although he did possess
the pinnace, M. Zermatt would never have dared, however ardent his
desire to return to his native country, to trust his family to so
fragile a vessel and expose them to the dangers of the violent cyclones
and tornadoes common in these seas.

In the predicament in which they now found themselves, the shipwrecked
family could only look to Providence for help. At this date, sailing
vessels making for the Dutch colonies hardly touched this part of
the Indian Ocean. The western coast of Australia was almost unknown,
offered the greatest difficulties in the way of landing, and had no
geographical or commercial importance.

At the outset the family were content to live under canvas at Tent
Home, near the right bank of the water-course which they had named
Jackal River, in commemoration of an attack made upon them by those
carnivorous animals. But the heat, untempered by the sea-breeze,
became stifling between these lofty rocks. So M. Zermatt resolved to
settle upon the portion of the coast which ran south and north, a
little beyond Deliverance Bay, as the place was significantly named.

In the course of an excursion to the end of a magnificent wood not
far from the sea, M. Zermatt stopped before a huge mangrove, of the
mountain variety, the lower branches of which spread out quite sixty
feet above the ground. Upon these branches the father and his sons
succeeded in building a platform made of planks taken from the ship.
Thus they constructed an aerial dwelling, covered in with a solid roof
and divided into several chambers. It was called Falconhurst, "The
Falcon's Nest." What was more, like certain willows which only subsist
through their bark, this mangrove had lost its inner core, which
had been taken possession of by numerous swarms of bees, and it was
possible to put in a winding staircase, to replace the rope ladder by
which access to the Falcon's Nest had been gained originally.

Meanwhile exploring trips were extended to a distance of seven or eight
miles as far as False Hope Point, as the cape was called after M.
Zermatt had given up all hope of finding any passengers or members of
the crew of the _Landlord_.

At the entrance to Deliverance Bay, opposite Falconhurst, lay an island
about a mile and a quarter in circumference, and this was christened
Shark's Island because one of those enormous creatures got stranded
there the day the tub boat was taking the domestic animals to Tent Home.

Just as a shark was responsible for the naming of this island, so
a whale, a few days later, gave its name to another island about
three-quarters of a mile in circumference, situated in front of
Flamingo Bay, to the north of Falconhurst. Communication between this
aerial dwelling-place and Tent Home, which was about two and a half
miles distant, was facilitated by the construction of "Family Bridge,"
subsequently replaced by a swing bridge, thrown across Jackal River.

After passing the first few weeks under canvas, as the fine weather
had not come to an end before Falconhurst was completed, M. Zermatt
removed there with all the domestic animals. The enormous roots of the
mangrove, covered with tarpaulins, served as cattlesheds. No traces of
wild beasts had been found as yet.

However, it was necessary to think of preparing for the return of the
winter season, which, if not cold, was at any rate disturbed by those
torrential rains of the intertropical regions, which last from nine
to ten weeks. To remain at Tent Home, where all the stores from the
_Landlord_ would be kept, would mean risking the precious cargo saved
from the wreck. The encampment could not promise absolute safety. The
rains must swell the river into a torrent, and if it overflowed its
banks all the arrangements and fittings of Tent Home might be swept
away.

Thus M. Zermatt was justifiably anxious about finding a safe shelter,
when chance came to his rescue in the following circumstances.

On the right bank of Jackal River, a little to the rear of Tent Home,
there arose a wall of thick rock, in which with pick and hammer, and
perhaps with mine, a grotto could be excavated. Fritz, Ernest, and Jack
set about the task, but the work was making poor progress when, one
morning, the tool that Jack was wielding went right through the rock.

"I have gone through the mountain!" the lad cried out.

The fact was there was a vast hollow inside the solid mass. Before
entering it, in order to purify the air, bunches of burning grass were
thrown inside, followed by rockets found in the _Landlord's_ powder
chest. Then by the light of torches, father, mother, and sons gazed
with wonder and admiration at the stalactites which hung from its
vault, the crystals of rock salt which jewelled it, and the carpet of
fine sand with which its floor was covered.

A dwelling-place was speedily fitted up within it. It was furnished
with windows taken from the ship's stern gallery and escape pipes
to carry off the smoke from the stoves. On the left hand were
the work-shop, the stables and the cattlesheds; to the rear, the
storerooms, separated by partitions of planking.

On the right hand there were three rooms: the first allotted to the
father and mother; the second intended to serve as a dining-room; the
third occupied by the four boys, whose hammocks were hung from the
roof. A few weeks more, and this new installation left nothing to be
desired.

Later on, other establishments were founded in the midst of the grass
lands and the woods to the west of the coast line, which ran seven
miles between Falconhurst and False Hope Point. The farmstead of Wood
Grange was created, near Swan Lake; then, a little further inland, the
farmstead of Sugar-cane Grove; then, on a little hill near the cape,
the villa of Prospect Hill; and finally, the hermitage of Eberfurt, at
the entrance to the defile of Cluse, which bounded the Promised Land on
the west.

The Promised Land was the name given to the fertile country protected
on the south and west by a lofty barrier of rock which ran from Jackal
River to the shore of Nautilus Bay. On the east extended the coast
between Rock Castle and False Hope Point. On the north lay the open
sea. This territory, seven and a half miles wide by ten miles long,
would have been adequate to the needs of quite a little colony. It
was there that the family kept the domestic animals and the wild
animals which they had tamed--an onager, two buffaloes, an ostrich,
a jackal, a monkey, and an eagle. There the plantations of native
growths flourished, with all the fruit trees of which the _Landlord_
had carried a complete assortment, oranges, peaches, apples, apricots,
chestnuts, cherries, plums, and even vines, which, under the warm sun
of this land, were destined to produce a wine far superior to the palm
wine of intertropical regions.

Beyond doubt nature had befriended the shipwrecked family; but their
contribution in hard work, energy, and intelligence, was considerable.
From these sprang the prosperity of this land, to which, in memory of
their own fatherland, they gave the name of New Switzerland.

Within a year nothing remained of the wrecked vessel. An explosion
carefully prepared by Fritz scattered its last fragments, which were
picked up at various points along the coast. Before this was done
everything of value which it contained had been removed: the articles
which had been intended for trade with the planters of Port Jackson
and the savages of Oceania, the property of the passengers--jewels,
watches, snuff-boxes, rings, necklaces, and money amounting to a
large sum, which was, however, valueless on this isolated land in the
Indian Ocean. But other articles taken from the _Landlord_ were of
incalculable benefit, iron bars, pig lead, cart wheels ready to be
fitted, whetstones, pickaxes, saws, mattocks, spades, ploughshares,
iron wire, benches, vices, carpenter's, locksmith's, and blacksmith's
tools, a hand mill, a saw mill, an entire assortment of cereals, maize,
oats, and the like, and quantities of vegetable seeds.

The family spent the first rainy season under favourable conditions.
They lived in the grotto, and busied themselves in arranging it to
the best advantage. The furniture from the ship--seats, presses, pier
tables, sofas, and beds--were distributed among the rooms of this
dwelling-place, and now that it no longer consisted of tents the name
of Rock Castle was substituted for the former one of Tent Home.

Several years passed. No ship was seen in these remote waters. Yet
nothing had been omitted to draw attention to the situation of the
survivors of the _Landlord_. A battery was installed on Shark's Island,
containing two small four-pounder cannon. Fritz and Jack fired these
guns from time to time, but never obtained any reply from the open sea.

There was no indication that New Switzerland was inhabited anywhere in
the neighbourhood of this district. The country was almost certainly
a rather large one, and one day while making a journey of exploration
southwards as far as the barrier of rock which was pierced by the
defile of Cluse, M. Zermatt and his sons reached the far end of a
verdant valley, the "Green Valley." Thence a wide horizon spread before
their eyes, bounded by a range of mountains at a distance estimated at
five and twenty miles.

The possibility that this unknown land was roamed by savage tribes
caused them grave anxiety. But none had been seen in the neighbourhood
of the Promised Land. The only danger there was from the attacks of a
few wild animals, outside the actual district--bears, tigers, lions,
and serpents--amongst others one enormous boa-constrictor, which had
penetrated as far as the outer premises of Rock Castle, and to which
the ass fell a prey.

The following are some of the native products from which M. Zermatt
derived much advantage, for he had a very full knowledge of natural
history, botany, and geology. A tree resembling the wild fig-tree,
from whose cracked bark a gum was distilled, yielded india-rubber,
which rendered possible the manufacture of several articles, among
them water-proof boots. From certain other trees, they gathered a
kind of wax which was used in making candles. The cocoanuts, besides
supply food, were converted into almost unbreakable bowls and cups. The
cabbage palm yielded a refreshing drink, known as palm wine; the beans
of a cacao furnished a rather bitter chocolate, and the sago-tree a
pith which, when soaked and kneaded, yielded a most nutritious flour
constantly used in cooking. There was never any lack of sweetening,
thanks to the swarms of bees, which produced honey in abundance. There
was flax from the lanceolate leaves of the _phormium tenax_, though the
carding and spinning of this was not effected without some trouble.
Plaster was obtained by making red hot and then reducing to powder
fragments of the actual rock wall of Rock Castle. Cotton was found
in seed pods full to bursting. From the fine dust of another grotto
fuller's earth was taken and used to make soap. There were clove-apples
of extraordinary succulence. From the bark of the _ravensara_ an
aromatic flavouring was obtained in which the savours of nutmeg and
cinnamon were mingled. From a mica shot with long asbestos threads,
discovered in an adjacent cave, a kind of glass was manufactured.
Beavers and rabbits supplied fur for clothing. There were euphorbium
gum, useful for various medicinal purposes, china-clay, mead for a
refreshing beverage, and delicious jellies made from seaweed collected
on Whale Island in accordance with a method which Mme. Zermatt had
learned at Cape Town.

To all this wealth must be added the resources rendered available to
bold hunters by the fauna of New Switzerland. Among the wild animals
from which they had, though very occasionally, to defend themselves
were the tapir, lion, bear, jackal, tiger-cat, tiger, crocodile,
panther, and elephant; while the depredations of the apes were so
serious as to necessitate a general massacre. Among the quadrupeds,
some of which were capable of domestication, were the onager and the
buffalo, and among the winged tribe were an eagle, which became Fritz's
hunting bird, and an ostrich which Jack trained to be his favourite
mount.

As for game, both furred and feathered, there was abundance in the
woods round about Wood Grange and the hermitage at Eberfurt. Jackal
River supplied excellent crayfish. Among the rocks on the shore
molluscs and crustaceans swarmed. And finally, the sea teemed with
herrings, sturgeon, salmon, and other fish.

During this long period no journeys of exploration were carried out
beyond the country between Nautilus Bay and Deliverance Bay. The coast
beyond False Hope Point was explored later, to a distance of about
twenty-five miles. Besides the pinnace M. Zermatt now possessed a
longboat, built under his direction. And further, at Fritz's request,
they made a light canoe of the Greenlander pattern known as a kayak,
using the whalebone taken from a whale which had been stranded at the
entrance to Flamingo Bay for the ribs of the craft and the skins of
dog-fish for her hull. This portable canoe, which careful caulking and
tarring rendered quite water-tight, was provided with openings in which
two paddlers could sit; the second could be hermetically closed when
only the first was occupied.

Ten years passed without any incidents of serious importance. M.
Zermatt, now forty-five years of age, enjoyed invariable good health
and possessed a moral and physical endurance which had been developed
to a higher degree by the uncertainties of an existence so far removed
from the ordinary. Betsy, the energetic mother of four sons, was
entering upon her forty-third year. Neither her physical strength nor
her courage was abated, nor yet her love for her husband and children.

Fritz, now twenty-five, and the possessor of astonishing strength,
suppleness, and skill, with a frank countenance, open face and
amazingly keen eyes, had improved enormously in character.

Ernest, of graver bent than his twenty-two years warranted, and more
skilled in mental than in physical exercises, was a great contrast to
Fritz, and had educated himself highly by drawing upon the library
taken from the _Landlord_.

Jack at twenty bubbled over with the joy of life. He was vivacity
and perpetual motion incarnate, as adventurous as Fritz and as
passionately fond of sport.

Although little Frank had now become a big boy of sixteen, his mother
still petted and made much of him as if he were only ten.

Thus the existence of this family was as happy as could be, and many a
time Mme. Zermatt used to say to her husband:

"Ah, my dear, would it not be real happiness if we could always live
with our children, and if, in this solitude, we were not obliged to
pass away one after another, leaving the survivors to sorrow and
forlornness! Yes, I would bless the God who has given us this paradise
on earth! But, alas, a day will come when we must close our eyes."

That was, and had ever been, the gravest preoccupation of Betsy's mind.
Often did she and M. Zermatt confide to one another their only too
well-founded apprehensions on this score. But this year, an unexpected
event happened which was destined to modify their present and perhaps
their future situation.

On the 9th of April, about seven o'clock in the morning, when M.
Zermatt came out of the house with Ernest, Jack and Frank, he looked in
vain for his eldest son, whom he supposed to be engaged in some work
outside.

Fritz was often absent, and there was nothing in his being away now
to make his father or his mother uneasy, although Mme. Zermatt was
always rather nervous when her son ventured out on the open sea beyond
Deliverance Bay.

It was practically certain that the intrepid young fellow was at sea,
since the canoe was not in its shelter.

As the afternoon was wearing on M. Zermatt, with Ernest and Jack, took
the boat to Shark's Island, there to watch for Fritz's return. It was
arranged that M. Zermatt should fire a cannon if he were delayed in
getting home, in order that his wife might not be left in a state of
uncertainty.

There was, however, no occasion for this. Father and sons had barely
set foot on the island when Fritz came round False Hope Point. Directly
they saw him, M. Zermatt, Ernest, and Jack took to their boat again.
They landed in the bay at Rock Castle at the same moment that Fritz
jumped out onto the beach.

Fritz was then obliged to narrate the events of his voyage, which had
lasted for nearly twenty-four hours. For some time past he had been
contemplating an exploration of the northern coast. So that morning he
had taken his eagle, Blitz, and put his canoe in the water. He took
some provisions, an axe, a harpoon, a boat-hook, fishing lines, a gun,
a pair of pistols, a game-bag, and a flask of mead. The wind blowing
off shore, the ebb tide carried him rapidly beyond the cape, and he
followed the line of shore, sloping somewhat towards the south-west.

Behind the point, and behind a succeeding mass of enormous rocks piled
up by nature in awful disorder as the result of some violent volcanic
convulsion, a spacious bay was hollowed out in the coast, bounded on
the far side by a perpendicular promontory. This bay furnished an
asylum for all kinds of sea-birds, which made the welkin ring with
their cries. On the shore huge amphibians snored in the sun, seabears,
seals, walruses and others, while countless myriads of graceful
nautiluses rode on the surface of the water.

Fritz was not anxious to have any dealings with these formidable
sea-monsters in his frail boat. So, pushing out towards the mouth of
the bay, he continued his voyage westward.

After rounding a point of singular shape, to which he gave the name
of Cape Snub-nose, he entered a natural archway, the foot of whose
pillars was washed by the surf. Here there were thousands of swallows,
whose nests were plastered to the crannies of the walls and roof. Fritz
detached several of these nests, which were of strange construction,
and put them in a bag.

"These swallows' nests," said M. Zermatt, interrupting his son's story,
"are a very valuable article of commerce in China."

Outside the archway Fritz found another bay, contained between two
capes situated about four miles apart. These were linked together, so
to speak, by a sprinkling of reefs with an opening only wide enough to
permit the passage of a ship of three or four hundred tons at most.

Behind the bay, as far as eye could see, rolled broad savannahs watered
by clear streams, woods, marshes, and landscapes of every variety. The
bay itself held treasure of inexhaustible value in the shape of pearl
oysters, some magnificent samples of which Fritz brought back with him.

After partly rounding the inside of the bay, and crossing the mouth of
a river teeming with aquatic plants of every kind, the canoe reached
the promontory opposite the archway.

Fritz then decided that he must not carry his expedition any further.
The hour was getting late, so he resumed his course to the coast,
making for False Hope Point, which he rounded before the gun on Shark's
Island had been fired.

This was the story the young man told of the voyage which resulted in
the discovery of Pearl Bay. But when he was alone with M. Zermatt, he
amazed his father by telling him more in confidence.

Among the countless birds which wheeled and wound above the
promontory--sea-swallows, sea-gulls and frigate-birds--there were also
several pairs of albatrosses, one of which Fritz knocked down with a
blow from his boat-hook.

While he was holding the bird on his knees, Fritz saw a scrap of coarse
linen tied round one of its feet, and on this was legibly written in
English:

"Whoever you may be to whom God may send this message from an unhappy
woman, look for a volcanic island which you will know by the flames
escaping from one of its craters. Save the unfortunate woman who is
alone on the Burning Rock!"

Somewhere in the waters of New Switzerland, a hapless girl or woman
was living, had perhaps been living for several years, upon an island,
with none of the resources which the _Landlord_ had provided for the
shipwrecked family!

"What did you do?" M. Zermatt asked.

"The only thing that could be done," Fritz replied. "I tried to restore
the albatross, which was only stunned by the blow from the boat-hook,
and I succeeded in doing so by pouring a little mead down its beak.
On a piece of my handkerchief I wrote with the blood of a sea otter
these words in English: 'Put your trust in God. Perhaps His help is
near.' Then I tied the piece of handkerchief to the albatross's foot,
feeling sure that the bird was a tame one, and would go back to Burning
Rock with my message. The minute I set it free the albatross flew off
towards the west, so fast that I soon lost sight of it, and it was
quite impossible for me to go after it."

M. Zermatt was deeply concerned. What could he do to rescue
this unfortunate woman? Where was the Burning Rock? In the near
neighbourhood of New Switzerland or hundreds of miles to the west?
The albatross is powerful and tireless in flight, and can travel vast
distances. Had this one come from some far distant sea which the
pinnace could not reach?

Fritz was warmly commended by his father for having confided the secret
to him only, since its disclosure might only have upset the other boys
and Mme. Zermatt to no good purpose. The shipwrecked girl on Burning
Rock might now be dead. The note had no date on it. Several years might
have passed since the message was tied to the foot of the albatross.

So the secret was kept. Unhappily it was only too plain that no attempt
could be made to discover the English girl on her island.

However, M. Zermatt resolved to explore Pearl Bay and ascertain the
value of the oyster beds it contained. Betsy agreed, though rather
reluctantly, to remain at Rock Castle with Frank. Ernest and Jack were
to accompany their father.

The next day but one, the 11th of April, the longboat left the little
cove by Jackal River and was rapidly borne by the current towards
the north. Several of the pet animals joined the ship's company: the
monkey, Nip the Second, Jack's jackal, the old dog Floss, and lastly
Brownie and Fawn, two dogs in the prime of life.

Fritz, in his canoe, went in front of the boat, and having rounded
False Hope Point he took the westerly course through the midst of the
rocks where the walruses and other amphibian creatures of this shore
abounded.

But it was not these creatures that attracted M. Zermatt's attention
so much as the countless nautiluses already observed by Fritz. The
whole bay was covered with these graceful creatures, their little sails
spread out to catch the breeze, like a fleet of moving flowers.

After covering some seven miles from False Hope Point, Fritz pointed
out at the far end of Nautilus Bay Cape Snub-nose, a cape which really
was exactly like a nose of that shape. Four miles further on the
archway curved up, and beyond that was Pearl Bay.

As they went through this archway Ernest and Jack collected a quantity
of nests of the esculent swallow, though the birds defended them with
fury.

When the boat had passed through the narrow strait between the archway
and the ridge of reefs, the spacious bay was revealed in its full
extent, twenty to twenty-five miles in circumference.

It was a pure delight to sail over the surface of this splendid sheet
of water, from the midst of which three or four wooded islands emerged.
The bay was enclosed by verdant pasture lands, dense groves, and
picturesque hills. On the west, there ran into it a pretty river, whose
bed was hidden among the trees.

The boat touched shore in a little creek, close to the pearl oyster
bed. As evening was closing in, M. Zermatt pitched camp by the edge
of a stream. A fire was lighted, and some eggs were roasted in its
ashes; these, with pemmican, potatoes, and maize biscuits, furnished
the repast. Then, as a matter of precaution, all found quarters in
the boat, leaving to Brownie and Fawn the duty of defending the camp
against the jackals which could be heard howling all along the stream.

Three days, from the 12th to the 14th, were spent in fishing for
oysters, all of which held pearls. In the evening Fritz and Jack went
out after duck and partridge in a little wood on the right bank of
the water-course. They were obliged to be on their guard. Boars were
plentiful in this wood, and there were other more formidable animals.

Indeed, in the evening of the 14th, a huge lion and lioness appeared,
roaring and waving their tails in fury. After the lion had fallen, shot
through the heart by Fritz, the lioness fell too, but not before, with
a blow of her paw, she had broken the skull of poor old Floss, to her
master's keen regret.

Thus it was established that some wild beasts inhabited this portion
of New Switzerland, to the south and west of Pearl Bay, and outside
the Promised Land. It was a happy chance that hitherto none of these
creatures had forced their way into that district through the defile
of Cluse; but M. Zermatt determined to block up this defile, which cut
through the rampart of rock, as effectually as he could.

In the meanwhile a general instruction was issued, especially to Fritz
and Jack, whose passion for hunting sometimes led them into imprudent
excursions, that care should be taken to avoid such encounters as this.

The whole of this day was devoted to emptying the oysters piled up on
the shore, and as this mass of molluscs was beginning to throw off
exhalations that were anything but healthy, M. Zermatt and his sons
determined to leave next morning at daybreak. It was necessary to
return to Rock Castle, for Mme. Zermatt would be anxious. So the boat
set out, preceded by the canoe. But when they reached the archway,
Fritz passed a note to his father, and then sped away in the direction
of the west. M. Zermatt could not fail to understand that he was going
off to find the Burning Rock.




                               CHAPTER V

                      THE STORY OF JENNY MONTROSE


M. Zermatt felt very anxious when he thought of the risks his son was
about to run. But as he could neither stop him nor go with him the boat
was obliged to continue its course towards False Hope Point.

When he got back to Rock Castle M. Zermatt decided still to say nothing
to his children, or even to his wife. It would only have meant exciting
useless fears, and possibly raising idle hopes. He only talked about
an exploration to be conducted towards the west side of the shore. But
when the absent one had not come back, at the end of three days, M.
Zermatt was so uneasy that he resolved to go to look for him.

At daybreak on the 20th of April the _Elizabeth_ got under way. She had
been properly provisioned for this voyage, and had on board father,
mother, and the three sons.

A better wind could not have been wished for. A good breeze blew from
the south-west, allowing the pinnace to sail along the coast. In the
afternoon she rounded the rocks of the archway and entered Pearl Bay.

M. Zermatt dropped anchor near the oyster bed, at the mouth of the
river, where traces of the last camp were still to be seen. They were
all preparing to go ashore when Ernest exclaimed:

"A savage! A savage!"

And there indeed, towards the west of the bay, between the wooded
islets, was a canoe moving about, seemingly mistrustful of the pinnace.

Never as yet had there been any ground for believing that New
Switzerland was inhabited. Now, in view of a possible attack, the
_Elizabeth_ put herself on the defensive, with cannon loaded and guns
ready to fire. But as soon as the savage had approached within a few
cables' length, Jack cried out:

"It is Fritz!"

Fritz it was, alone in his canoe. Not having recognised from a distance
the pinnace, which he had not expected to see in these waters, he was
advancing cautiously, having even taken the precaution to blacken his
face and hands.

When he had joined his family and embraced his mother and brothers, not
without leaving a few smuts upon their cheeks, he led his father to one
side.

"I have succeeded," he said.

"What? The English girl on Burning Rock?"

"Yes, she is there, quite close, on an island in Pearl Bay," Fritz
replied.

Without a word to his wife or children, M. Zermatt turned the pinnace
towards the island pointed out by Fritz near the western shore of the
bay. As they approached they could see a little wood of palms close to
the beach, and in the wood a hut built in the Hottentot fashion.

They all landed, and Fritz fired a pistol in the air. Then they saw
what looked like a young man come down from a tree in whose branches he
was hiding.

But it was not a young man. It was a girl of about twenty, dressed like
a midshipman. She was Jenny Montrose, the young English girl of the
Burning Rock.

Mme. Zermatt, Ernest, Jack, and Frank now learnt the circumstances in
which Fritz had discovered the situation of the deserted creature on
a volcanic island in the open sea outside Pearl Bay, and how he had
replied in a note which the young girl had never received, for the
albatross did not return to Burning Rock.

How can one hope to describe the reception Jenny Montrose had, or the
tenderness with which Mme. Zermatt folded her in her arms? While they
had to wait for her to tell her story, Jenny had already heard from
Fritz the story of New Switzerland and of the shipwrecked passengers on
the _Landlord_.

The pinnace immediately left Pearl Bay, with all the family, now
augmented by the young English girl. On both sides English and German
were spoken sufficiently well for mutual understanding, and it was as
though Jenny had at once become a member of the Robinson family.

Of course the _Elizabeth_ carried home the few useful articles which
Jenny had made with her own hands during her stay on Burning Rock. It
was only natural that she should cling to these things, which had so
many memories for her.

Also there were two living creatures, two faithful companions from
which the young girl could never have parted--a cormorant that she had
trained to fish, and a tame jackal.

The _Elizabeth_ was favoured with a fresh breeze which enabled her
to carry every stitch of her canvas. The weather was so settled that
M. Zermatt could not resist the desire to put in at the various
establishments in the Promised Land as each came into view, when the
pinnace had rounded False Hope Point.

The villa on Prospect Hill was the first, situated on that green hill,
whence a view extended right to Falconhurst. The night was spent there,
and it was a long time since Jenny had enjoyed so quiet a sleep.

Fritz and Frank, however, started at earliest dawn in the canoe in
order to get everything ready at Rock Castle for the proper reception
of the young English girl. Some time afterwards the pinnace put to sea
again, and put in first at Whale Island, where a colony of rabbits was
swarming. M. Zermatt insisted on Jenny accepting this island for her
own--a present which she gratefully accepted.

From this point the passengers on the _Elizabeth_ might have taken the
land route and visited the farmstead at Wood Grange and the aerial
dwelling, Falconhurst. But M. Zermatt and his wife wanted to leave
Fritz the pleasure of taking their new companion to these.

Accordingly the pinnace continued to follow the windings of the shore
as far as the mouth of Jackal River. When she reached the opening into
Deliverance Bay she was received with a salute of three guns from the
battery on Shark's Island. At the same moment Fritz and Frank hoisted
the red and white flag in honour of the young girl.

When the salute had been returned by the two small guns aboard the
pinnace M. Zermatt came alongside just as Fritz and Frank landed from
the canoe. Then the entire family went up the beach to gain Rock Castle.

Jenny was overcome with wonder and admiration as she entered the fresh
and verdant verandah and saw the arrangement and the furniture of the
various rooms; when, too, she saw the dining table carefully laid by
Fritz and his brother, with bamboo cups, cocoanut plates, and ostrich
egg vessels side by side with utensils of European manufacture taken
from the _Landlord_.

The dinner consisted of fresh fish, roast fowl, peccary ham, and fruit,
with mead and canary wine as drinks.

Jenny Montrose was given the place of honour, between M. Zermatt and
his wife. Tears of joy sprang to her eyes when, on a banner garlanded
with flowers hung above the table, she read these words:

"Welcome to Jenny Montrose! God bless her entrance into the home of the
Swiss Family Robinson!"

Then she told her story.

Jenny was the only child of Major William Montrose, an officer in the
Indian army. While she was still quite young, a child indeed, she had
followed her father from garrison to garrison. Deprived of her mother
at the age of seven, she was brought up under her father's watchful
care, and equipped to meet all the struggles of life unaided, if her
last support should ever fail her. She was thoroughly instructed in
everything right for a girl to know, and physical exercises had been an
important part of her education--riding and hunting in particular.

In the middle of the year 1812 Major Montrose, now promoted Colonel,
was ordered to return to Europe on board a man-of-war bringing home
time-expired men from the Anglo-Indian army. He had been appointed to
the command of a regiment in a distant expedition, and there was every
probability that he would not return until he retired. This made it
necessary for his daughter, now seventeen, to journey to her native
country and make her home with an aunt in London. There she was to
await the return of her father when at last he should rest from the
fatigues of a life devoted to the service of arms.

As Jenny could not travel on a troopship, Colonel Montrose put her,
with a maid to attend her, in the charge of a friend of his, Captain
Greenfield, commander of the _Dorcas_. This ship sailed a few days
before the one which was to take the colonel.

The voyage was ill-starred from the very first. On leaving the Bay of
Bengal the _Dorcas_ encountered storms of fearful violence; later she
was chased by a French frigate, and compelled to seek refuge in the
harbour of Batavia.

When the enemy had left these waters, the _Dorcas_ set sail once more,
and steered her course for the Cape of Good Hope. Her passage was a
most difficult one at this stormy season. Contrary winds continued
to blow with astonishing persistence. The _Dorcas_ was put out of her
course by a storm which swept up from the south-west. For an entire
week Captain Greenfield was unable to take his bearings. In fact he
could not have told whereabouts in the Indian Ocean he had been carried
by the storm, when during the night his ship struck a reef.

An unknown coast rose some little distance off and the crew, jumping
into the first boat, made an attempt to reach it. Jenny Montrose, with
her maid and a few passengers, got into the second boat. The ship was
breaking up already, and had to be abandoned as speedily as possible.

Half an hour later the second boat was capsized by a huge wave just as
the first boat was disappearing in the darkness.

When Jenny recovered consciousness she found herself upon a beach where
the surf had laid her, probably the sole survivor of the wreck of the
_Dorcas_.

The girl did not know what length of time had elapsed since the boat
was swamped. It was almost a miracle that she had strength enough left
to drag herself into a cave, where, after she had eaten a few eggs, she
found a little rest in sleep.

When she awoke she dried in the sun the man's clothes which she had put
on at the time the ship struck, in order to be less hampered in her
movements, and in one of the pockets of which there was a tinder-box
which would enable her to make a fire.

Jenny walked all along the shore of the island but could not see any
of her shipmates. There was nothing but fragments of the ship, a few
pieces of wood from which she used to keep up her fire.

But, so great was the physical and moral strength of this young girl,
so potent was the influence of her almost masculine education, that
despair never took hold of her. She set her home within the cave
in order. A few nails taken from the wreckage of the _Dorcas_ were
her only tools. Clever with her fingers, and of an inventive mind,
she contrived the few things that were absolutely necessary. She
succeeded in making a bow and fastening a few arrows, with which to
hunt the furred and feathered game, and so provide for her daily food.
There were a few animals which she was able to tame, a jackal and a
cormorant, for instance, and these never left her side.

In the centre of the little island upon which she had been cast by the
sea there rose a volcanic mountain from whose crater smoke and flames
constantly belched. Jenny climbed to the top of this, a hundred fathoms
or so above the level of the sea, but could see no glimpse of land on
the horizon.

Burning Rock, which was about five miles in circumference, had on its
eastern side only a narrow valley through which a little stream ran.
Trees of various kinds sheltered here from too keen winds, covered it
with their thick boughs and foliage; and on one of these mangroves
Jenny established her dwelling-place, just as the Zermatt family had
done at Falconhurst.

Hunting in the valley and neighbourhood, fishing in the stream and
among the rocks with hooks fashioned out of nails, edible pods, and
berries from different trees--these, supplemented by a few cases of
preserved food and casks of wine, cast up on the shore during the three
or four days following the wreck, enabled the young English girl to
make an addition to the roots and shellfish which were her only food at
first.

How many months had Jenny Montrose lived in this fashion on Burning
Rock until the hour of her deliverance came?

At the beginning she had not thought of keeping count of time. But she
was able to calculate roughly that two years and a half had passed
since the wreck of the _Dorcas_.

Throughout all those months, rainy season and hot weather alike, not
a day passed when she did not search the horizon. But never once did
a sail appear on the background of the sky. From the highest point of
the island, however, when the atmosphere was clear, she fancied two or
three times that she could detect land to the eastward. But how was she
to cover the intervening distance? And what was this land?

Although in this intertropical region the cold was not severe, Jenny's
sufferings were great during the rainy season. Ensconced within her
cave, which she was unable to leave either to hunt or to fish, she was
still obliged to find food for herself. Happily the eggs, of which
there were numbers among the rocks, the shellfish densely packed at the
mouth of the cave, and the fruit stored in readiness for this season,
made her food supply secure.

More than two years had passed when the idea occurred to her, like an
inspiration from on high, to fasten to the foot of an albatross which
she had caught a note telling of her deserted state upon the Burning
Rock. She was quite unable to indicate its position. As soon as she set
the bird free it took flight towards the north-east. What likelihood
was there of its ever coming back to Burning Rock?

Several days went by without its reappearing. The faint hope the girl
had had from this venture gradually faded away. But she would not
lose all hope. If the help that she waited for did not come from this
source, it would from some other.

Such was the story which Jenny told to the Zermatts.

They still had to learn the circumstances in which Fritz had discovered
the Burning Rock.

When the boat left Pearl Bay, Fritz, who was in front of it in his
canoe, passed a note to his father acquainting him with his intention
to go to find the young English girl. So after passing the archway,
instead of following the coast to the east, he went off in the opposite
direction.

The shore was sown with reefs and fringed by enormous rocks. Beyond
were masses of trees as fine as those at Wood Grange and Eberfurt.
Numerous water-courses found their outlet in little bays. This
north-west coast was unlike that between Deliverance Bay and Nautilus
Bay.

Fritz was compelled by the heat, which was very great the first day,
to go ashore in order to find a little shade. He had to be rather
cautious, for the hippopotami which lived at the mouth of the streams
could easily have reduced the canoe to fragments.

Arriving at the outskirts of a dense wood, Fritz drew his light boat to
the foot of a tree. Then, tired out he sank to sleep.

Next morning the voyage was continued until midday. When he put in to
shore on this occasion Fritz was obliged to repulse the attack of a
tiger which he wounded in the flank while his eagle tried to tear out
the eyes of the brute. Two pistol shots stretched it dead at his feet.

But, to Fritz's bitter regret, the eagle, disembowelled by a blow from
the tiger's claw, had ceased to breathe. Poor Blitz was buried in the
sand, and his master resumed his voyage, grieved by the loss of his
faithful hunting companion.

The second day had been spent following the winding coastline. No smoke
out at sea indicated the presence of the Burning Rock. Now, as the sea
was calm, Fritz determined to go farther out, in order to see if any
smoke was visible above the south-western horizon. Accordingly he drove
his canoe in that direction. His sail bellied out in the brisk breeze
off the land. After sailing for a couple of hours he was preparing to
put about when he thought he could perceive a faint smoke.

At once Fritz forgot everything, the uneasiness his prolonged absence
would cause at Rock Castle, his own fatigue, and the risks he would run
in venturing out so far to sea. Driven by paddle as well as the wind,
the canoe flew over the sea.

An hour later Fritz found himself within half-a-dozen cable-lengths of
an island topped by a volcano, from which smoke and flame were escaping.

The eastern coast of the island seemed to be quite barren. But as he
wound round it Fritz saw that it was intersected by the mouth of a
stream at the extremity of a green valley.

The canoe was driven into a narrow creek and pulled up on the strand.

On the right hand was a cave, at the entrance to which a human being
was lying, sunk in a deep sleep.

Fritz gazed at her with profound emotion. She was a girl of seventeen
or eighteen, dressed in coarse sailcloth, which yet was clean and
decently arranged. Her features were charming, and her face was very
gentle. Fritz did not dare to waken her, and yet it was salvation which
would greet her when she woke.

At last the girl opened her eyes. At the sight of a stranger she
uttered a cry of alarm.

Fritz reassured her with a gesture, and then said in English:

"Do not be frightened, miss. I intend you no harm. I have come to save
you."

And before she had time to reply he told her how an albatross had
fallen into his hands, bearing a note begging help for the Englishwoman
on the Burning Rock. He told her that a few miles to the east there was
a land where a whole shipwrecked family was living.

Then, after throwing herself on her knees to thank God, the girl
stretched out her hands to him in gratitude. She told her story briefly
and invited Fritz to visit her wretched abode.

Fritz accepted the invitation, but stipulated that the visit must be a
short one. Time pressed, and he was longing to take the young English
girl to Rock Castle.

"To-morrow," she said, "we will start to-morrow, Mr. Fritz. Let me
pass this one night more upon Burning Rock, since I shall never see it
again."

"Very well, to-morrow," the young man answered.

And together they shared a meal provided from Jenny's stores, and the
food carried in the canoe.

At length Jenny said her evening prayers and withdrew inside the cave,
while Fritz lay down at the entrance to it, like a faithful watchdog.

Next day at earliest dawn they put into the canoe the little articles
which Jenny did not want to leave behind, not forgetting her cormorant
and her jackal. The young girl, in her man's dress, took the stern seat
in the light vessel. The sail was hoisted, the paddles were wielded,
and an hour later the last trails of smoke from the Burning Rock were
lost on the far horizon.

Fritz had intended to make direct for False Hope Point. But the canoe,
being heavily loaded, struck a snag of rock, and it was necessary to
repair it. So Fritz was obliged to put into Pearl Bay, and he took his
companion to the island, where the pinnace picked them up.

That was the narrative which Fritz related.

The addition of Jenny Montrose to the family circle increased its
happiness. The weeks went by, busy with the up-keep of the farmsteads
and the care of the animals. A beautiful avenue of fruit trees now
connected Jackal River with Falconhurst. Improvements had been
carried out at Wood Grange, at Sugar-cane Grove, at the hermitage at
Eberfurt, and at Prospect Hill. Many delightful hours were spent in
this last-named villa, built of bamboo on the plan of the Swiss chalet.
From the top of the hill the eye could range on one side over a large
part of the Promised Land, and on the other over a vista of twenty-five
miles, bounded by the line where sea and sky met.

June brought again the heavy rains. It was necessary to leave
Falconhurst and return to Rock Castle. These two or three months were
always rather trying, made depressing, as they were, by the constant
bad weather. A few trips to the farms to attend to the animals, and
a few hours hunting which took Fritz and Jack out into the immediate
neighbourhood of Rock Castle, represented the whole of the outdoor
business of each day.

But they were not idle. Work went on under the direction of Mme.
Zermatt. Jenny helped her, bringing to bear all her ingenious
Anglo-Saxon energy, which was different from the rather more methodical
Swiss system. And while the young girl studied German with M. Zermatt,
the family studied English with her, Fritz speaking that language
fluently at the end of a few weeks. How could they have made any but
rapid progress with such a teacher?

So there was no complaint of dull days during the rainy season. Jenny's
presence lent the evenings a new charm. No one was in a hurry for
bed now. Mme. Zermatt and Jenny busied themselves with needlework.
Sometimes the young girl was asked to sing, for she possessed a
charming voice. She learned the songs of Switzerland, those mountain
melodies which will never grow old, and it was enchanting to hear them
from her lips. Music was varied by reading aloud, when Ernest drew upon
the best works in the library, and it seemed that time for bed always
came too soon.

In this domestic atmosphere M. Zermatt, his wife, and his children,
were as happy as mortal man can be. Yet they could not entirely forget
their fears for the future, the improbability of rescue coming from
outside, or their old homeland. Jenny, too--must not her heart have
been rent sometimes when her thoughts turned to her father? Nothing had
ever been heard of the ship that was taking her home, the _Dorcas_, and
was it not the obvious conclusion that she had foundered with all hands?

The unlooked-for event which altered their situation so profoundly has
already been described.




                              CHAPTER VI

                         PLANNING AND WORKING


During the first few days following the departure of the _Unicorn_
deep depression reigned at Rock Castle. M. and Mme. Zermatt were
inconsolable at having let two of their children go, although they
realised the necessity of doing so.

But it is vain to ask of a parent's heart more than it is able to give.
Fritz, that gallant young fellow, was gone, Fritz, the stout right arm
of his family, in whose eyes he represented the future. Gone, too, was
Frank, following in the footsteps of his eldest brother.

Ernest and Jack were left, it is true. Ernest had never lost his taste
for study and, thanks to his reading, his education was as solid as
it was practical. Jack shared Fritz's love of hunting and fishing
and riding and sailing, and, keenly eager to wrest her last secrets
from New Switzerland, he would take his brother's place in daring
explorations.

And lastly, she, too, was gone, the charming and beloved Jenny, whose
absence Betsy regretted as much as that of a dear daughter. It was
heart-breaking to see their places in the rooms of Rock Castle, their
seats at table and in the hall where all assembled in the evenings,
empty.

They would all come back, no doubt, and then the grief of the parting
and the sadness of their absence would be forgotten. They would all
come back, and new friends with them--Colonel Montrose, who would be
unwilling to be separated from his daughter after he had given her as
wife to her rescuer, and Dolly Wolston, and her brother James with his
wife and child. They would all be glad to settle in this land. And
other emigrants would soon be coming to populate this remote colony of
Great Britain.

Yes: in a year at latest, one fine day a ship would appear out beyond
False Hope Point, sailing from the west, not to disappear in the north
or east! She would shape her course into Deliverance Bay. Most likely
she would be the _Unicorn_. But whatever ship she was, she would bring
Colonel Montrose and his daughter, Fritz and Frank, Mr. and Mrs.
Wolston's children!

The situation was entirely altered. The inhabitants of this New
Switzerland were no longer merely the shipwrecked survivors of the
_Landlord_, who had found refuge on an unknown land. The position of
this land was definitely established now in latitude and longitude.
Lieutenant Littlestone had its exact bearings. He would report them to
the Admiralty, and the Admiralty would give the necessary orders for
taking possession. When she left New Switzerland the corvette uncoiled
behind her, as it were, a cable thousands of miles in length, a cable
which bound New Switzerland to the old world, and which nothing could
break thereafter.

As yet, indeed, only a portion of its northern coast was known, the
thirty or forty miles, at most, between Unicorn Bay and the seas to the
east of Burning Rock. Even the three deep bays, Deliverance, Nautilus
and Pearl, had not been completely explored. In the whole course of
these eleven years M. Zermatt and his sons had scarcely set foot beyond
the great rampart of mountain outside the defile of Cluse. They had
confined their excursions to the middle line of the Green Valley, and
had never ascended the opposite heights.

Owing to the presence of the Wolstons the number of inhabitants of Rock
Castle had not been diminished by the departure of the _Unicorn_.

Mr. Wolston, at this time forty-five years of age, was a man of sound
constitution. He had been weakened by fever contracted in New South
Wales, but the healthy climate of New Switzerland and the care which
would be lavished on him there would soon restore him to health and
strength. His engineering knowledge and experience could not fail to
be of the greatest service, and M. Zermatt fully intended to use them
in effecting improvements which he had not been able to carry out
hitherto. But first of all Mr. Wolston, to whom Ernest felt himself
drawn by a certain resemblance of tastes and character, must regain his
health.

Mrs. Wolston, Merry, was a few years younger than Mme. Zermatt. The two
women could not fail to like each other, and their friendship would
grow as they knew each other. Household duties engaged them together
at Rock Castle, and they would share the work when visiting the
farmsteads at Wood Grange, the hermitage at Eberfurt, and Sugar-cane
Grove.

Hannah Wolston was only seventeen. Her health, like her father's, had
been impaired, and it was certain that her stay in the Promised Land
would strengthen her constitution and bring back the colour to her pale
cheeks. She gave promise of developing into a very attractive woman,
being fair, with pretty features, a complexion which would soon recover
its bloom, a pleasant look in her blue eyes and a graceful carriage.
She presented a great contrast to her sister, the sparkling Dolly, with
her fourteen years, and her fresh and ringing laugh, which would have
filled the rooms of Rock Castle, a brunette who was always singing,
always chattering, and full of merry repartee. But she, too, would come
back soon, the bird that had flown away, and her warbling would again
delight all this little world.

Meantime the enlargement of Rock Castle was a matter of pressing
necessity. When the _Unicorn_ returned this dwelling would be too
small. If only Colonel Montrose and Jenny, Fritz and Frank, James
Wolston and his sister, wife, and child, were reckoned, they could not
live there together unless some parts of the great cave were specially
adapted to their use. If any fresh colonists came with them new houses
would have to be built. There would be plenty of room for these along
the right bank of Jackal River, the shore towards Flamingo Bay, or the
shady road between Rock Castle and Falconhurst.

M. Zermatt had many long talks with Mr. Wolston on this subject, talks
in which Ernest eagerly took part, making sound suggestions.

During this time Jack, who now undertook alone the duties he had
formerly shared with his eldest brother, made it his constant business
to supply the needs of the larder. Followed by his dogs, Brownie
and Fawn, he went hunting every day in the woods and plains, where
game, furred and feathered, abounded. He ransacked the marshes, where
wild duck and snipe furnished a change for the daily bill of fare.
Coco, Jack's jackal, was an ardent rival of the dogs, whose constant
companion he was on these hunting expeditions. Sometimes the young
hunter bestrode his onager, Lightfoot, who abundantly justified his
name; sometimes the buffalo, Storm, who swept like a storm across the
forest land. Strict injunctions had been laid upon the daring young
fellow never to venture outside the confines of the Promised Land, and
never to go through the defile of Cluse, opening into the Green Valley,
where he would run the risk of encountering fierce animals. Yielding
to his mother's urgent entreaty, he had promised not to be away longer
than a day at a time, and always to come home for the evening meal. But
in spite of his promises Betsy could not hide her fears when she saw
him vanish like an arrow from a bow beyond the trees near Rock Castle.

For his part, Ernest preferred the peaceful occupation of fishing
to hunting. He would settle himself by the side of Jackal River or
at the foot of the rocks in Flamingo Bay. There were quantities of
crustaceans, molluscs, and fish there--salmon, herrings, mackerel,
lobster, crayfish, oysters, and mussels. Sometimes Hannah Wolston would
join him, not a little to his satisfaction.

The young girl was unsparing of her attentions to the cormorant and
the jackal brought from Burning Rock. It was to her that Jenny had
committed them before she went away, and they were in good hands. When
she came back Jenny would find her two faithful companions in the
pink of health, and at liberty to come and go as they pleased in the
paddocks of Rock Castle.

While the cormorant agreed very well with the other inhabitants of the
poultry yard, the jackal was on bad terms with Jack's jackal, which had
tried in vain to make friends. The two creatures were jealous of each
other, and were forever scratching and quarrelling.

"I give up trying to make them agree," Jack said one day to Hannah,
"and I hand them over to you."

"Trust me, Jack," Hannah replied. "With a little patience I hope to
bring them together."

"Try, my dear girl, for jackals should always be friends."

"It seems to me, Jack, that your monkey, too----"

"Nip the Second? Oh, all he wants is to bite Jenny's pet!"

And really, Nip the Second did appear to be very ill-disposed towards
the newcomer. Tame as these creatures were with human beings, it would
be difficult to establish harmony between them.

The days slipped by. Betsy and Merry never had an idle hour. While
Mme. Zermatt was mending clothes, Mrs. Wolston, who was a very clever
needle-woman, was making dresses and petticoats out of the materials
that had been treasured from the wreck of the _Landlord_.

The weather was superb, the heat still not excessive. In the forenoon
the breeze blew off the land, in the afternoon off the sea. The nights
remained fresh and restful. The last week of October, the April of the
southern latitudes, was about to retire before November, the month of
renewal, the month of spring in that hemisphere.

The two families paid frequent visits to the farms, sometimes on foot,
sometimes in the cart drawn by its team of buffaloes. More often than
not Ernest rode the young ass, Rash, and Jack bestrode the ostrich. Mr.
Wolston got much benefit from these walks. He had fewer and lighter
attacks of fever.

They used to go from Rock Castle to Falconhurst by the fine road
planted ten years before, which was now completely shaded by chestnut,
walnut, and cherry trees. Sometimes the stay at the aerial country-seat
was prolonged for four and twenty hours; and it was delightful, when
they had climbed the winding staircase inside, to step out onto the
platform sheltered beneath the foliage of the magnificent mangrove. The
dwelling-place seemed rather small now; but in Mr. Wolston's opinion
there was no need to consider its enlargement. And one day M. Zermatt
answered his argument thus:

"You are quite right, my dear Wolston. To live among the branches of a
tree was all very well for the Robinsons, whose first care was to find
a refuge from wild beasts, and that was our case at the beginning of
our life on this island. But now we are colonists, real colonists."

"And besides," Mr. Wolston pointed out, "we have to get ready for the
return of our children, and we have none too much time to put Rock
Castle into a condition to receive them all."

"Yes," said Ernest, "if there are any enlargements to be made it is at
Rock Castle. Where could we find a more secure home during the rainy
season? I agree with Mr. Wolston; Falconhurst has become insufficient,
and during the summer I think it would be better to move into Wood
Grange or Sugar-cane Grove."

"I should prefer Prospect Hill," Mme. Zermatt remarked. "It would be
quite easy with supplementary arrangements."

"An excellent idea, mamma!" Jack exclaimed. "The view from Prospect
Hill is delightful, right over the sea to Deliverance Bay. That hill is
simply marked out as the site for a villa."

"Or a fort," M. Zermatt replied; "a fort to command that point of the
island."

"A fort?" Jack repeated enquiringly.

"Well, my boy," M. Zermatt answered, "we must not forget that New
Switzerland is going to become an English possession, and that it will
be to the interest of the English to fortify it. The battery on Shark's
Island would not be strong enough to defend the future town which will
probably be built between Flamingo Bay and Rock Castle. So it seems to
me indispensable that Prospect Hill should be used in the near future
for a fort."

"Prospect Hill, or a little farther forward, on False Hope Point," Mr.
Wolston suggested. "In that case the villa might be preserved."

"I should like that much better," Jack declared.

"And so should I," Mme. Zermatt added. "Let us try to keep all these
memorials of our early days, Prospect Hill as well as Falconhurst. I
should be very sorry to see them disappear."

Of course, Betsy's feeling was a very natural one. But the situation
had changed. While New Switzerland belonged to the shipwrecked
survivors of the _Landlord_ only, there had never been any question
of putting it in a state of defence. When it became a dependency of
England, it must have coast defences.

And all things considered, could its first occupants really regret the
consequences involved by the arrival of the _Unicorn_ in these waters
of New Switzerland?

"No," was M. Zermatt's conclusion, "so let us leave the future to bring
about gradually all the various changes it requires."

Moreover, there were other things to be done that were much more urgent
than the repairs at Falconhurst and Prospect Hill. It was nearly time
to get in all the crops, to say nothing of the attention that had to
be given to the animals at Wood Grange, the hermitage at Eberfurt, and
Sugar-cane Grove.

When they paid their first visit to Whale Island M. Zermatt and Mr.
Wolston had been amazed at the number of rabbits it contained. There
were hundreds of these most prolific rodents. Fortunately the island
produced quite enough herbaceous plants and roots to guarantee their
food supply. So Jenny, to whom M. Zermatt had made a present of this
island, would find it in a highly prosperous condition when she
returned.

"You were very wise to enclose your rabbits there," Mr. Wolston
remarked. "There will be thousands of them some day, and they would
have eaten up every field in the Promised Land! In Australia, where I
come from, these creatures threaten to become a worse plague than the
locusts in Africa, and if the most stringent measures are not taken
against the depredations of the breed, the entire surface of Australia
will be consumed."[2]

[Footnote 2: Mr. Wolston was not deceived in speaking like this;
seventy years later the extraordinary increase of the rabbits had
become such a menace to Australia that the most active steps had to be
taken for their destruction.]

During these latter months of the year 1816 it was obvious more than
once that Fritz and Frank were badly missed, although the Wolstons did
not spare their efforts. The harvest season was always a very busy
one. An immense amount of work was involved in the proper farming of
the fields of maize and tapioca and of the rice plantation beyond the
marsh near Flamingo Bay, in the cropping of the fruit trees, both the
European species and the indigenous species, such as bananas, guavas,
cacaos, cinnamons, and others, in the extraction and preparation
of sago, and finally in the harvesting of the grain, wheat, rice,
buckwheat and barley, and the cutting of the sugar-canes, which grew in
such abundance on the farm fields of Sugar-cane Grove. All this made
heavy work for four men, although the three women helped them bravely.
And it would all have to be begun over again in a few months, for the
soil was so prolific that there was no danger of its being exhausted by
two crops every year.

On the other hand, it was important that Mme. Zermatt, Mrs. Wolston,
and Hannah should not give up entirely their domestic work. And for
this reason, while Mr. Wolston and M. Zermatt and his two sons went off
to work out of doors, they most commonly remained at Rock Castle.

Fertile as the soil of the Promised Land was, however, there was yet
the possibility that its yield might be prejudicially affected by an
excessive drought during the summer. What was lacking was a system
of irrigation suitably carried all over the surface of this area of
several hundred acres. The only water-courses were the Jackal and
Falconhurst Rivers to the east, and to the west the Eastern River,
which ran into the south end of Nautilus Bay. This defect had struck
Mr. Wolston, and one day, the 9th of November, after the midday meal,
he brought the conversation round to this subject.

"Nothing would be easier," he said, "than to fix up a water-wheel,
using the Jackal River fall a mile and a half above Rock Castle. There
are two ship's pumps among the material you took out of the _Landlord_,
my dear Zermatt. Well, the wheel, once it is fixed, could work them
with quite sufficient force, could pump the water up into a reservoir
and carry it through pipes as far as the fields at Wood Grange and
Sugar-cane Grove."

"But the pipes," said Ernest; "how can we make them?"

"We would do on a big scale what you have already done on a small scale
to bring water from Jackal River to the kitchen garden at Rock Castle,"
Mr. Wolston replied. "Instead of using bamboos, we would use trunks of
the sago-tree, cleared of their pith. An installation like that would
not be beyond our powers."

"Splendid!" Jack declared. "When we have made our land more fertile
still it will produce more; it will produce too much, and we shall not
know what to do with our crops, for after all, there is no market yet
at Rock Castle."

"There will be one, Jack," M. Zermatt replied, "as there will be a town
by and by, and then several towns, not only in the Promised Land, but
all over New Switzerland. We must look ahead, my son."

"And when there are towns," Ernest added, "there will be inhabitants
whose food supply must be secured. So we must get out of the soil all
that it is capable of yielding."

"We shall get it all right," Mr. Wolston added reassuringly, "by means
of this system of irrigation, which I will study if you like."

Jack held his tongue and did not give in. It was by no means an
agreeable idea to him that the English colony would some day number a
considerable population, and if Mme. Zermatt's inmost heart could have
been read the same regret at the thought of the future might have been
found there.

However this may be, in the few hours of leisure left to them
occasionally by their work in the fields, Mr. Wolston, M. Zermatt and
Ernest, who found this kind of task most interesting, studied the
question of irrigation. They ascertained accurately the line and level
of the country, and were convinced that its disposition was favourable
to the construction of a canal.

Rather more than half-a-mile to the south of Wood Grange lay Swan Lake,
filled by the rains during the rainy season, but attaining during the
dry season a low water mark which rendered it useless. The trenches
that might have been cut would not have enabled the water at summer
level to drain away. But if they succeeded in keeping a constant
surplusage in the lake, by drawing upon Jackal River, it would be easy
to divert it over the surrounding land and bring fresh elements of
fertility to it by a carefully considered system of irrigation.

The distance between the waterfall and the southern extremity of the
lake was a good two and a half miles, it is true, and to build a
conduit of that length could not fail to be a task of much magnitude.
It would necessitate the felling of a great many sago-trees.

Happily, another examination of the ground, carried out by Ernest and
Mr. Wolston, demonstrated the fact that the length of the conduit could
be materially reduced.

One evening, when the two families were sitting together in the common
hall after a busy day both in and out of doors, Ernest said:

"Papa, Mr. Wolston and I have found out all about the levels. If we
raise the water from Jackal River thirty feet, that will be enough to
carry it four hundred yards to the place where the ground begins to
slope again down to Swan Lake. A trench cut from that point will serve
as a canal for the water and will take it direct into the lake."

"Good!" said M. Zermatt. "That will simplify the task enormously."

"And then Swan Lake will form the reservoir for irrigating the fields
at Wood Grange, Sugar-cane Grove, and even the hermitage," Mr. Wolston
added. "Besides, we will only supply it with enough water for the
actual requirements of the irrigation system, and if a surplusage
should accumulate we could easily drain it off towards the sea."

"Quite so," said M. Zermatt. "We shall deserve the thanks of all future
colonists when once we have completed this canal."

"But not of the old ones, who were satisfied with what nature had given
them!" Jack remarked. "Poor old Jackal River! They are going to tire it
out turning a wheel; they are going to take a bit of it away; and all
for the material advantage of people we do not even know!"

"It is plain that Jack is not an advocate of colonisation," said Mrs.
Wolston.

"Our two families settled in this district, and their existence
assured--what more could we wish for, Mrs. Wolston?"

"Good!" said Hannah Wolston. "But Jack will change his ideas with all
the improvements you are going to introduce."

"Do you think so?" Jack answered with a laugh.

"When shall you begin this great undertaking?" Betsy enquired.

"In a few days, dear," M. Zermatt assured her. "After we have got
in our first harvest we shall have three months' leisure before the
second."

This being settled, a most laborious task ensued, lasting for five
weeks from the 15th of November to the 20th of December.

Expeditions had to be made to Prospect Hill for the purpose of
felling several hundred sago-trees in the adjacent woods. There was
no difficulty in hollowing them out, and their pith was carefully
collected in bamboo barrels. It was the hauling of the trees that
constituted the really hardest part of the work. This devolved upon
M. Zermatt and Jack, assisted by the two buffaloes, the onager, and
the young ass, which drew a kind of trolley or truck, like those used
later in Europe. It was Ernest who hit upon the idea of suspending
these heavy lengths of timber to the axle-tree of the two wheels of
the waggon, previously detached from the body for that purpose. If the
tree-trunks did scrape along the ground, they only did so at one end,
and their hauling was effected under much easier conditions.

All the same, buffaloes, onager and ass had plenty to do, so much,
indeed, that one day Jack said:

"It is a pity, papa, that we have not got a pair of elephants in our
service! What a lot of fatigue our poor beasts would be saved!"

"But not the worthy pachyderms themselves," M. Zermatt
replied--"converted into our poor beasts in their turn."

"Oh, elephants have plenty of strength," Jack retorted; "they would
drag these sago-tree trunks along like so many matches! There are some
in New Switzerland, and if we could only----"

"I am not very keen on these creatures getting into the Promised Land,
Jack. They would soon get our fields into a pretty mess!"

"No doubt, papa. But if we should have an opportunity of meeting them
in the savannahs of Pearl Bay, or in those plains where the Green
Valley opens out----"

"We would take advantage of it," M. Zermatt answered. "But don't let us
create the opportunity. It is better not to."

While M. Zermatt and his son were proceeding with these many hauling
journeys, Mr. Wolston and Ernest were busy making and fixing the
pumping machine. In the construction of the water-wheel the engineer
displayed great skill, and particularly interested Ernest, who had a
great bent for everything connected with mechanics.

This wheel was set up at the foot of the waterfall in Jackal River, in
such a way as to work the _Landlord's_ pumps. The water, brought up to
a height of thirty feet, would be stored in a reservoir hollowed out
between the rocks on the right bank, and this would be fitted with the
water-pipes made from the sago-tree trunks, the first of which were
soon laid along the river bank.

The work was carried on so steadily and methodically that about the
20th of December it was finished, including the trench or drain cut
through the surface of the ground to the southern end of Swan Lake.

"Shall we have an opening ceremony?" Hannah Wolston asked that evening.

"I rather think so!" Jack replied. "Just as if it were a matter of
opening a canal in our own old Switzerland! What do you say, Mamma?"

"Just as you like, dears," Betsy answered.

"Then that is settled," said M. Zermatt. "The ceremony shall begin
to-morrow with the starting of our machinery."

"How shall it end?" Ernest asked.

"With an excellent dinner in honour of Mr. Wolston."

"And of your son Ernest," said Mr. Wolston, "for he deserves great
praise for his keenness and intelligence."

"I am delighted with your praise, sir," the young fellow replied, "but
I had a good teacher."

The next day, about ten o'clock, the canal was formally opened in the
presence of the two families who had assembled near the waterfall. The
wheel, set in motion by the fall, revolved regularly, the two pumps
worked and the water was let into the reservoir, which was filled in an
hour and a half. Then the sluices were opened and the water travelled
through the conduit, a distance of four hundred yards.

Everybody hastened to this spot, and there was much clapping of hands
when the first trickles of water entered the portion of the canal
which was open to the sky. After Ernest had thrown in a little buoy,
the members of both families got into the waggon, which was waiting,
and drove off towards Swan Lake, Jack speeding in front mounted on his
ostrich.

The waggon made such good speed that, although it had a détour to make,
it reached the far end of the canal at the same moment that the buoy
floated out onto the surface of the lake.

Loud cheers greeted it; the work had been brought to a satisfactory
conclusion. It would only be necessary to make a few breaches in the
banks for the water, even in the height of the drought, to irrigate
generously all the surrounding country during the hot weather.

Three months had now passed since the _Unicorn_ had sailed. If nothing
occurred to delay her she ought to be seen again off Deliverance Bay
in three times that time.

Not a day passed without some talk about the absent ones. They were
followed at every stage of their voyage. Now they had reached the Cape
of Good Hope, where James Wolston was waiting for his sister Dolly. Now
the corvette was working up the Atlantic, along the African coast. Now
she was arriving at Portsmouth; Jenny and Fritz and Frank were landing
and reaching London. There Colonel Montrose was clasping in his arms
the daughter whom he had never thought to see again, and, with her,
him who had rescued her from the Burning Rock, whose union with her he
would sanction with his blessing.

Thus ended the year 1816, which had been marked by events whose
consequences must profoundly alter the situation of New Switzerland.




                              CHAPTER VII

                      THE START OF AN EXPEDITION


On the 1st of January good wishes were exchanged between the Zermatts
and the Wolstons. They also gave one another presents, valuable chiefly
for the goodwill of the givers--such trifles as time transforms into
souvenirs. There were mutual congratulations, too, and much handshaking
when the day dawned, a day observed as a holiday all over the world,
when the new year

    Makes its bow upon the stage
    Of the unknown future age,

as a French poet has said. This New Year's day was very different from
the twelve that had preceded it since the survivors of the wreck of
the _Landlord_ had first set foot on the beach at Tent Home. Heartfelt
joy now entered into their emotions. It was a chorus of pure happiness
and merriment they raised, and Jack took part in it with the lively
enthusiasm which he put into everything.

M. Zermatt and Mr. Wolston embraced each other. They were old friends
now, and had had time to learn to appreciate and esteem one another in
the common life they led together. M. Zermatt treated Hannah as if
he were her father, and Mr. Wolston, Ernest and Jack as if they were
his sons. It was the same with the two mothers who made no difference
between their respective children.

Hannah Wolston must have been particularly touched by the
congratulations which Ernest offered to her. It will be remembered
that this young man was somewhat addicted to poetry. Once before,
when the worthy donkey had had its fatal encounter with the enormous
boa-constrictor, he had adorned its tomb with a few quite respectable
lines. On the present occasion, in honour of this maiden, his
inspiration stood him in good stead, and Hannah's cheeks flushed warmly
when the young poet congratulated her on having recovered her health in
the good air of the Promised Land.

"Health--and happiness, too," she answered, kissing Mme. Zermatt.

The day, which was Friday, was observed like a Sunday in that thanks
were offered to the Most High, whose protection of the absent ones was
invoked, while heartfelt gratitude was expressed for all His blessings.

Then Jack exclaimed:

"And what about our animals?"

"Well; what about our animals?" M. Zermatt enquired.

"Turk, and Brownie and Fawn; our buffaloes, Storm and Grumbler; our
bull, Roarer; our cow, Paleface; our onager, Lightfoot; our asses,
Arrow and Fleet and Swift; our jackal, Coco; our ostrich, Whirlwind;
our monkey, Nip the Second; and indeed all our friends two and four
footed."

"Come, come, Jack," said Mme. Zermatt, "you are not suggesting that
your brother should write poetry for the whole farm and poultry yard,
are you?"

"Of course not, Mamma, and I don't suppose the excellent creatures
would appreciate the most beautiful verses in the world. But they do
deserve that we should wish them a happy new year and give them double
rations and fresh litter."

"Jack is quite right," said Mr. Wolston; "to-day all our beasts----"

"Including Jenny's jackal and cormorant," said Hannah Wolston.

"Well said, my dear," said Mrs. Wolston. "Jenny's pets shall have their
share."

"And since to-day is the first day of the year the whole world over,"
said Mme. Zermatt, "let us think of those who have left us, who are
certainly thinking of us."

And affectionate thoughts were wafted by both families to the beloved
passengers on the _Unicorn_.

All the animals were treated according to their high deserts, and
sugar was lavished upon them as well as caresses.

Then the whole party sat down in the dining-room at Rock Castle to an
appetising luncheon, the gaiety of which was increased by a few glasses
of old wine presented by the commander of the corvette.

There was no question of doing any of the usual daily work on a holiday
like this, so M. Zermatt proposed a walk to Falconhurst, a short two
and a half miles that could be travelled without much fatigue beneath
the shade of the fair avenue which connected the summer and winter
residences.

The weather was splendid, although the heat was great. But the double
row of trees along the avenue barred the sun's rays with their dense
foliage. It was just a pleasant trip along the shore, with the sea upon
the right hand and the country on the left.

A start was made about eleven o'clock so as to allow of a whole
afternoon's rest at Falconhurst and a return in time for dinner. The
two families had not stayed at Wood Grange this year, nor yet at
Prospect Hill or the hermitage at Eberfurt, because these farmsteads
required enlargements which would not be undertaken until the _Unicorn_
came back. The arrival of new colonists would probably necessitate
other changes in the Promised Land.

After leaving the kitchen garden and crossing Jackal River by Family
Bridge, the party went along the avenue of fruit trees, which had grown
with tropical luxuriance.

There was no need to hurry, as an hour would take them to Falconhurst.
The dogs, Brownie and Fawn, gambolled in front. On either hand fields
of maize, millet, oats, wheat, barley, cassava, and sweet potatoes
displayed their rich stores. The second harvest promised to be a good
one, without taking into account that which would be reaped on the land
farther to the north, irrigated from Swan Lake.

"It was a fine idea to utilise that water from Jackal River, which
until then was wasted, since the sea had no need of it!" Jack remarked
thoughtfully to Mr. Wolston.

Every few hundred yards a halt was made, and the talk was resumed
with new enjoyment. Hannah gathered some of the pretty flowers whose
perfume scented the whole avenue. Hundreds of birds fluttered among the
branches laden with fruit and leaves. Game of all kinds sped across
the meadow lands, hares, rabbits, grouse, hazel-hens, snipe. Neither
Ernest nor Jack had been allowed to bring a gun, and it seemed as if
the winged tribe knew this.

Before they had started Mme. Zermatt, seconded by Hannah, had urged the
point.

"I beg," she said, "I beg that to-day all these unoffending creatures
may be spared."

Ernest had agreed with good grace. He had no burning desire to shine as
a hunter. But Jack had protested. To go out without his gun, if he were
to be believed, was like being deprived of an arm or a leg.

"I can take it, even if I don't use it," he said. "I promise not to
fire, not even if a covey of partridges gets up within half-a-dozen
yards."

"You would not be able to keep your promise, Jack," Hannah replied.
"With Ernest there would be no need for anxiety, but you----"

"And suppose some wild beast appeared, a panther, a bear, a tiger, a
lion? There are some on our island."

"Not in the Promised Land," Mme. Zermatt answered. "Come, Jack, give in
to us this time. You will still have three hundred and sixty-four days
in the year."

"Isn't it Leap Year by any chance?"

"No," Ernest replied.

"No luck!" the young sportsman exclaimed.

It was about an hour later when the two families stopped at the foot of
Falconhurst, after crossing the mangrove wood.

M. Zermatt's first care was to ascertain that the fence which enclosed
the poultry yard was in sound condition. Neither the monkeys nor the
wild boars had indulged their instinct to destroy. There really would
have been no need for Jack to make reprisals on these marauders on this
occasion.

The party began by taking a rest on the semi-circular terrace of clay
made above the roots of the huge mangrove and rendered water-proof by a
mixture of resin and tar. They all took a little refreshment there from
the barrels of mead which were stored under the terrace. Then they went
up the winding staircase, built inside the tree, to the platform forty
feet above the ground.

It was an unfailing pleasure to the Zermatts to be among the broad
leaves of the tree. Was not this their first nest, the one which held
so many memories for them? The nest had become a fresh and delightful
habitation, with its two trellised balconies, its double floor, its
rooms roofed in with nicely fitted bark, and its light furniture.
Henceforward it would be no more than a mere resting place. More
spacious buildings were to be erected at Prospect Hill. But M. Zermatt
meant to preserve the old "falcon's nest" as long as the gigantic tree
would hold it in its arms, until, worn out by years, it fell to pieces
from old age.

That afternoon, while they chatted on the balcony, Mrs. Wolston made
a remark which called for consideration. She was a woman of such
enlightened piety, and so steeped in religious feeling, that no one was
surprised when she spoke in this way.

"I have often marvelled, my dear friends, and I marvel still at all
you have done in this corner of your island. Rock Castle, Falconhurst,
Prospect Hill, your farms, your plantations, your fields, all prove
your intelligence to be as great as your courage in hard work. But I
have already asked Mme. Zermatt how it is that you have not got----"

"A chapel," Betsy answered quickly. "You are right, Merry dear, and we
do undoubtedly owe it to God to build to His glory----"

"Something better than a chapel--a temple," exclaimed Jack, whom
nothing ever dismayed; "a monument with a splendid steeple! When shall
we begin, Papa? There is material enough and to spare. Mr. Wolston will
draw the plans and we will carry them out."

"Excellent!" replied M. Zermatt with a smile; "but if I can see the
temple with my mind's eye, I cannot see the pastor, the preacher."

"Frank will be that when he comes back," said Ernest.

"Meantime do not let that worry you, M. Zermatt," Mrs. Wolston put in.
"We will content ourselves with saying our prayers in our chapel."

"It is an excellent idea of yours, Mrs. Wolston, and we must not forget
that new colonists will be coming very soon. So we will look carefully
into the matter in our spare time during the rainy season. We will look
for a suitable site."

"It seems to me, dear," said Mme. Zermatt, "that if we cannot use
Falconhurst as a dwelling-place any longer, it would be quite easy to
alter it into an aerial chapel."

"And then our prayers would be half way to heaven already, as Frank
would remark," Jack added.

"It would be a little too far from Rock Castle," M. Zermatt replied.
"I think it would be better to build this chapel near our principal
residence, round which new houses will gradually gather. But, as I said
before, we will look carefully into the idea."

During the three or four months which remained of the fine weather
all hands were employed in the most pressing work, and from the 15th
of March until the end of April there was not a single holiday. Mr.
Wolston did not spare himself; but he could not take the place of Fritz
and Frank in providing the farmsteads with fodder for the winter keep.
There were now a hundred sheep, goats and pigs at Wood Grange; the
hermitage at Eberfurt and Prospect Hill, and the cattlesheds at Rock
Castle would not have been large enough to accommodate all this stock.
The poultry was all brought into the poultry yard before the rainy
season, and the fowls, bustards, and pigeons were attended to there
every day. The geese and ducks could amuse themselves on the pond, a
couple of gunshots away. It was only the draught cattle, the asses and
buffaloes, and the cows and their calves that never left Rock Castle.
Thus, irrespective of hunting and fishing, which were still very
profitable from April to September, supplies were guaranteed merely
from the produce of the yards.

On the 15th of March, however, there was still a good week before the
field work would require the service of all hands. So, during that
week, there would be no harm done by devoting the whole time to some
trip outside the confines of the Promised Land. And this was the topic
of conversation between the two families in the evening.

Mr. Wolston's knowledge was limited to the district between Jackal
River and False Hope Point, including the farms at Wood Grange, the
hermitage at Eberfurt, Sugar-cane Grove and Prospect Hill.

"I am surprised, Zermatt," he said one day, "that in all these twelve
years neither you nor your children have attempted to reach the
interior of New Switzerland."

"Why should we have tried, Wolston?" M. Zermatt replied. "Think! When
the wreck of the _Landlord_ cast us on this shore, my boys were only
children, incapable of accompanying me on a journey of exploration. My
wife could not have gone with me, and it would have been most imprudent
to leave her alone."

"Alone with Frank, who was only five years old," Mme. Zermatt put in.
"And besides, we had not abandoned hope of being picked up by some
ship."

"Before all else," M. Zermatt went on, "it was a matter of providing
for our immediate needs and of staying in the neighbourhood of the ship
until we had taken out of her every single thing that might be useful
to us. At the mouth of Jackal River we had fresh water, fields that
could be cultivated easily on its right bank, and plantations all ready
grown not far away. Soon afterwards, quite by chance, we discovered
this healthy and safe dwelling-place at Rock Castle. Ought we to have
wasted time merely satisfying our curiosity?"

"And besides," Ernest remarked, "might not leaving Deliverance Bay have
meant exposing ourselves to the chance of meeting natives, like those
of the Nicobars and Andamans perhaps who are such fierce savages?"

"At all events," M. Zermatt went on, "each day brought some task that
sheer necessity forbade us to postpone. Each new year imposed upon us
the work of the year before. And gradually, with habits formed and an
accustomed sense of well-being, we struck down roots in this spot, if
I may use the phrase; that is why we have never left it. So the years
have gone by, and it seems only yesterday that we first came here. What
would you have had us do, Wolston? We were very well off here, in this
district, and it did not occur to us that it would be wise to go out of
it to look for anything better."

"That is all perfectly reasonable," Mr. Wolston answered, "but for my
part, I could not have resisted for so many years my desire to explore
the country towards the south, east and west."

"Because you are an Englishman," M. Zermatt replied, "and your native
instinct urges you to travel. But we are Swiss, and the Swiss are a
peaceful, stay-at-home people who never leave their mountains without
regret; and if circumstances had not compelled us to leave Europe----"

"I protest, Papa!" Jack answered. "I protest, so far as I am concerned.
Thorough Swiss as I am, I should have loved to travel all over the
world!"

"You ought to be an Englishman, Jack," Ernest declared, "and please
understand that I do not blame you a bit for having this inborn desire
to move about. Besides, I think that Mr. Wolston is right. It really is
necessary that we should make a complete survey of this New Switzerland
of ours."

"Which is an island in the Indian Ocean, as we know now," Mr. Wolston
added; "and it would be well to do it before the _Unicorn_ comes back."

"Whenever Papa likes," exclaimed Jack, who was always ready to take a
hand in any new discovery.

"We will talk about that again after the rainy season," M. Zermatt
said. "I have not the least objection to a journey into the interior.
But let us acknowledge that we were highly favoured in being permitted
to land upon this coast which is both healthy and fertile. Is there
another equal to it?"

"How do we know?" Ernest answered. "It is true, the coast we passed
in the pinnace, when we doubled Cape East on our way to Unicorn Bay,
was nothing but naked rocks and dangerous reefs, and even where the
corvette was moored there was nothing but sandy shore. But beyond that,
to the southward, it is quite likely that New Switzerland presents a
less desolate appearance."

"The way to make sure of that," said Jack, "is to sail all round it in
the pinnace. We shall know then what its configuration is."

"But if you have never been beyond Unicorn Bay to the eastward," Mr.
Wolston insisted, "you have been much further along the northern coast."

"Yes, for something like forty miles," Ernest answered; "from False
Hope Point to Pearl Bay."

"And we had not even the curiosity to go to see Burning Rock," Jack
exclaimed.

"A desert island, which Jenny never wanted to see again," Hannah
remarked.

"The best thing to do," M. Zermatt decided, "will be to explore the
territory near the shore of Pearl Bay, for beyond that there are green
prairies, broken hills, fields of cotton trees, with leafy woods."

"Where are the truffles!" Ernest put in.

"You glutton!" Jack exclaimed.

"Yes, truffles," M. Zermatt replied, laughing, "and where there are
creatures too that dig the truffles up."

"Not forgetting panthers and lions!" Betsy added.

"Well," said Mr. Wolston, "the net result of all that is that we must
not venture that way or any other without taking precautions. But since
our future colony will be obliged to spread beyond the Promised Land,
it seems to me that it would be better to explore the interior than to
sail round the island."

"And to do so before the corvette comes back," Ernest added. "My view,
indeed, is that it would be best to cross the defile of Cluse and go
through the Green Valley so as to get right up to the mountains that
one can see from the rising ground at Eberfurt."

"Did they not seem a very long way off from you?" Mr. Wolston asked.

"Yes; about twenty-five miles," Ernest replied.

"I am sure Ernest has mapped out a journey already," said Hannah with a
smile.

"I confess I have, Hannah," the young man answered, "and I am longing
to be able to draw an accurate map of the whole of our New Switzerland."

"My good people," said M. Zermatt, "this is what I suggest to begin to
satisfy Mr. Wolston."

"Agreed to in advance!" replied Jack.

"Wait, you impatient fellow! It will be ten or twelve days before we
are required for the second harvest, and if you like we will spend
half that time in visiting the portion of the island which skirts the
eastern shore."

"And while M. Zermatt with his two sons and Mr. Wolston are on this
trip," Mrs. Wolston objected disapprovingly, "Mme. Zermatt, Hannah and
I are to remain alone at Rock Castle; is that it?"

"No, Mrs. Wolston," M. Zermatt answered; "the pinnace will hold us all."

"When do we start?" cried Jack. "To-day?"

"Why not yesterday?" M. Zermatt answered, with a laugh.

"Since we have surveyed the inside of Pearl Bay already," said Ernest,
"it really is better to follow up the eastern coast. The pinnace would
go straight to Unicorn Bay and then southwards. We might perhaps
discover the mouth of some river which we might ascend."

"That is an excellent idea," M. Zermatt declared.

"Unless perhaps it were better to make a circuit of the island," Mr.
Wolston remarked.

"The circuit of it?" Ernest replied. "Oh, that would take more time
than we have to give, for when we made our first trip to the Green
Valley we could only make out the faint blue outline of the mountains
on the horizon."

"That is precisely what it is important to have accurate information
about," Mr. Wolston urged.

"And what we ought to have known all about long ago," Jack declared.

"Then that is settled," said M. Zermatt in conclusion; "perhaps we
shall find on this east coast the mouth of a river which it will be
possible to ascend, if not in the pinnace at any rate in the canoe."

And the plan having been agreed upon, it was decided to make a start on
the next day but one.

As a matter of fact, thirty-six hours was none too long a time to ask
for preparation. To begin with, the _Elizabeth_ had to be got ready
for the voyage, and at the same time provision had to be made for the
feeding of the domestic animals during an absence which might perhaps
be protracted by unforeseen circumstances.

So one and all had quite enough to get through.

Mr. Wolston and Jack made it their business to inspect the pinnace
which was moored in the creek. She had not been to sea since her trip
to Unicorn Bay. Some repairs had to be done, and Mr. Wolston was clever
at this. Navigation would be no new thing to him, and Jack, too, could
be relied upon, as the fearless successor to Fritz, to handle the
_Elizabeth_ as he handled the canoe.

M. Zermatt and Ernest, Mme. Zermatt, Mrs. Wolston and Hannah, were
entrusted with the duty of providing the cattlesheds and the poultry
yard with food, and they did it conscientiously. There was a large
quantity left of the last harvest. Being graminivorous, the buffaloes,
onager, asses, cows and the ostrich would lack nothing. The fowls,
geese, ducks, Jenny's cormorant, the two jackals, the monkey, were made
as sure of their food supply. Brownie and Fawn were to be taken, for
there might be need to hunt on this trip, if the pinnace put in at any
point on the coast.

All these arrangements of course made visits necessary to the
farmsteads at Wood Grange, the hermitage at Eberfurt, Sugar-cane Grove,
and Prospect Hill, among which the various animals were distributed.
All these places were carefully kept in a state to receive visitors for
a few days. But with the help of the waggon, the delay of thirty-six
hours, stipulated for by M. Zermatt, was not exceeded.

There really was no time to be lost. The yellowing crops were on the
point of ripening. The harvest could not be delayed beyond a fortnight,
and the pinnace must be back by that time.

At last, in the evening of the 14th of March, a case of preserved meat,
a bag of cassava flour, a cask of mead, a keg of palm wine, four guns,
four pistols, powder, lead, enough shot for the _Elizabeth's_ two small
cannon, bedding, linen, spare clothes, oilskins, and cooking utensils
were put on board.

Everything being ready for the start, all that had to be done was to
take advantage, at the very first break of day, of the breeze which
would blow off the land in order to reach Cape East.

After a peaceful night the two families went on board, at five o'clock
in the morning, accompanied by the two dogs which gambolled and
frolicked to their hearts' content.

As soon as the party had all taken their place on deck, the canoe
was triced up aft. Then, with mainsail, foresail, and jib set, with
M. Zermatt at the helm and Mr. Wolston and Jack on the lookout, the
pinnace picked up the wind, and after passing Shark's Island speedily
lost sight of the heights of Rock Castle.




                             CHAPTER VIII

                      EXPLORERS OF UNKNOWN COASTS


As soon as she had cleared the entrance to the bay the pinnace glided
over the surface of the broad expanse of sea between False Hope Point
and Cape East. The weather was fine. The grey-blue sky was tapestried
with a few clouds through which the sun's rays filtered.

At this early morning hour the breeze blew off the land and was
favourable to the progress of the _Elizabeth_. It would not be until
she had rounded Cape East that she would feel the wind from the sea.

The light vessel was carrying all her brig sails, even a flying jib and
the pole sails of her two masts. To the swing of the open sea, with
full sails, and a list to her starboard quarter, she clove the water,
as still as that of a lake, and sped along at eight knots, leaving a
long track of rippling foam in her wake.

What thoughts thronged Mme. Zermatt's mind, what memories of these
twelve years that had passed! She saw again in fancy the tub boat
roughly improvised for their rescue, which the least false stroke might
have capsized; that frail contrivance making for an unknown shore with
all that she loved within it, her husband, and her four sons, of whom
the youngest was barely five years old; then she was landing at the
mouth of Jackal River, and the first tent was set up at the spot which
was Tent Home before it became Rock Castle.

And what fears were hers whenever M. Zermatt and Fritz went back to
the wreck! And now here she was, upon this well-rigged, well-handled
pinnace, a good sea-boat, sharing without a tremor of fear in this
voyage of discovery round the eastern coast of the island.

What changes, too, there had been in the last five months, and what
changes, more important still, perhaps, could be anticipated within the
very near future!

M. Zermatt was manœuvring so as to make the best use of the wind which
tended to die away as the _Elizabeth_ drew farther away from the land.
Mr. Wolston, Ernest, and Jack stood by the sheets ready to haul them
taut or ease them as need might be. It would have been a pity to become
becalmed before coming off Cape East, where the pinnace would catch the
breeze from the open sea.

Mr. Wolston said:

"I am afraid the wind is scanting; see how our sails are sagging!"

"The wind certainly is dropping," M. Zermatt answered, "but since it is
blowing from aft let us put the foresail one side and the mainsail the
other. We are sure to gather some pace that way."

"It should not take us more than half an hour to round the point,"
Ernest remarked.

"If the breeze drops altogether," Jack suggested, "we have only to put
out the oars and paddle as far as the cape. With four of us at it the
pinnace won't stay still, I should imagine."

"And who will take the tiller while you are all at the oars?" Mme.
Zermatt enquired.

"You will, mamma, or Mrs. Wolston, or even Hannah," Jack replied. "Why
not Hannah? I am sure she would shove the tiller to port or starboard
as well as any old salt?"

"Why not?" answered the girl, laughing. "Especially if I have only to
do what you tell me, Jack."

"Good! It is as easy to manage a boat as it is to manage a house, and,
of course, all women are adepts at that from the start," Jack answered.

There was no need to resort to the oars, or to what would have been
much simpler--towing by the canoe. As soon as the two sails had been
set crosswise the pinnace obeyed the breeze more readily and made
appreciable progress towards Cape East.

Various signs went to show that beyond the cape the wind from the west
would make itself felt. The sea on this side was vivid green a couple
of miles from the shore. Sometimes little waves, deploying in white
lines, gleamed with bright reflections. The voyage proceeded gaily, and
it was scarcely half past eight when the _Elizabeth_ was athwart the
cape.

The sails were trimmed again and the little vessel put on a faster
pace, lightly rocked by a sea that distressed no one on board.

As the breeze was plainly settled, M. Zermatt suggested that they
should go up again towards the north-east, so as to go round the mass
of rocks on which the _Landlord_ had been broken.

"We can do it easily," said Mr. Wolston, "and for my own part I should
very much like to see the reef onto which the storm threw you, so far
off the course from the Cape of Good Hope to Batavia."

"A wreck that cost many lives," said Mme. Zermatt, whose face clouded
at the memory. "My husband, my children, and myself were all who
escaped death."

"So it has never been known whether any of the crew was picked up at
sea or found refuge on any neighbouring land?" Mr. Wolston enquired.

"Never," M. Zermatt answered, "according to what Lieutenant Littlestone
declared; and for a long time the _Landlord_ was supposed to have been
lost with all hands."

"As for that," Ernest observed, "it must be pointed out that the crew
of the _Dorcas_, on which Jenny took her passage, had better luck than
ours had, since the boatswain and two sailors were taken to Sydney."

"That is true," M. Zermatt replied. "But can we be positive that no
survivors from the _Landlord_ succeeded in finding a refuge on some
one of these shores in the Indian Ocean, and even that after all these
years they are not there still, as we are in New Switzerland?"

"There is nothing impossible in that," Ernest declared, "for our island
is only seven or eight hundred miles from Australia. As the west coast
of Australia is seldom visited by European ships the shipwrecked
people might have had no opportunity of being rescued from the natives."

"The conclusion to be drawn from it all," said Mr. Wolston, "is that
these seas are dangerous and that storms are frequent here. In only a
few years there have been the loss of the _Landlord_ and the loss of
the _Dorcas_."

"Quite so," replied Ernest. "But let us remember that at the time those
wrecks occurred, the position of our island was not marked on the
charts, and it is not surprising that several ships were lost upon the
reefs by which it is surrounded. But very soon now its bearings will be
on record as exactly as those of the other islands of the Indian Ocean."

"The more's the pity!" cried Jack. "Yes: the more's the pity, since New
Switzerland will now become known."

The _Elizabeth_ was manœuvring by this time off the west side of the
reef, and as she had been obliged to beat up against the wind in order
to round the farthest rocks she now had only to sail before the wind in
this direction.

M. Zermatt pointed out to Mr. Wolston on the opposite side of the reef
the narrow gap into which an enormous wave had thrust the _Landlord_.
The breach made in the timbers of the ship, first with the axe and
then by an explosion, had permitted the removal of the things that she
contained, prior to the time when a final explosion by gunpowder had
accomplished her total destruction.

Of the ruined fragments of the ship, nothing remained upon the reef,
the tide having washed everything to the shore, things which could
float of themselves and also those which had previously been made
floatable by means of empty casks, such as boilers, pieces of iron,
copper and lead, and the four-pounder cannon, two of which were now on
Shark's Island, and the rest in the battery at Rock Castle.

As they skirted the edge of the rocks, the party on the pinnace tried
to see if there were any pieces of wreckage visible beneath the clear
and calm water. Two and a half years previously Fritz, when he had
gone in his canoe on a trip to Pearl Bay, had been able to discern at
the bottom of the sea a number of large cannon, gun-carriages, cannon
balls, pieces of iron, and fragments of the keel and capstan, which
it would have required a diving-bell to raise. Even if he had had the
opportunity of employing such a contrivance, however, M. Zermatt would
not have been much better off. Now, none of these things was visible on
the bottom. A thick carpet of sand mixed with long sea-weeds covered
the last remnants of the _Landlord_.

After making the round of the reef, the _Elizabeth_ bore away obliquely
towards the south, in such a way as to draw close to Cape East.
M. Zermatt steered a careful course, for one point ran out to sea
surrounded by reefs.

Three-quarters of an hour later, after passing this point, which in
all probability marked the eastern extremity of New Switzerland, the
pinnace was able to follow the line of the coast for a mile and more,
getting the wind from the north-west over land.

While sailing thus, M. Zermatt could not fail to observe once more how
deserted an appearance the eastern coast of the island presented. There
was not a tree upon the cliffs, not a trace of vegetation at their
foot, not a stream trickling among the naked and deserted beaches.
Nothing but rocks calcined by the sun. What a contrast to the verdant
shores of Deliverance Bay and their extension onwards as far as False
Hope Point!

M. Zermatt spoke:

"If after the wreck of the _Landlord_ we had fallen upon this eastern
coast, what would have become of us, and how should we have found
anything to live upon?"

"Necessity would have compelled you to go into the interior," Mr.
Wolston answered. "And in making your way round Deliverance Bay you
would certainly have come to the spot where the tents of Tent Home were
pitched."

"That is so, Wolston," M. Zermatt replied, "but think of the effort
involved, and think of the despair we should have been a prey to during
those first days."

"Who can tell, too," Ernest put in, "if our tub boat would not have
been smashed on these rocks? How different from the mouth of Jackal
River, where we were able to land without any risk or difficulty!"

About eleven o'clock the _Elizabeth_ reached Unicorn Bay, and half an
hour later dropped anchor at the foot of a rock near the spot where
the English corvette had been moored.

M. Zermatt's plan, of which all approved, was to land in this corner
of the bay and spend the rest of the day there, then to start again at
daybreak next morning to continue the voyage along the coast line.

When the anchor was fast the stern of the pinnace was brought in by a
hawser, and the landing was effected on fine, hard sand.

The bay was surrounded by a limestone cliff about a hundred feet in
height from the foot to the top, which could only be gained by means of
a narrow gap in the centre of it.

The party walked over the beach, which still bore traces of the last
encampment. Here and there a few prints could still be seen in the sand
above high water mark, with bits of wood left from the repairs to the
corvette, holes made by the tent pegs, lumps of coal scattered among
the shingle, and ashes from the fires.

All this prompted M. Zermatt to make the following remarks, fully
justified by the circumstances:

"Just imagine if this were our first visit to the east coast of the
island; with all these indisputable proofs before us of a landing,
which the marks show to have been recent, think of the regrets and
disappointment we should have felt! A ship had anchored here, her crew
had camped within this bay, and we did not know anything about it! And
after leaving this utterly deserted shore, could we have ventured to
hope that she would ever come back?"

"That is very true," Betsy replied. "How was it that we learned of the
arrival of the _Unicorn_?"

"By chance," said Jack; "pure chance!"

"No, my boy," M. Zermatt answered; "whatever Ernest may have said, it
was due to our custom of firing our guns at Shark's Island every year
at this season, to which the corvette replied with three guns."

"I must acknowledge that I was wrong," Ernest confessed.

"And think of our anxiety and our despair," M. Zermatt went on, "during
the next three days, when the storm prevented us from going back to the
island to repeat our signals, and think of our fear that the ship might
have left again before we could reach her!"

"Yes, indeed," said Mr. Wolston, "that would have been a frightful
disappointment! Fancy knowing that a ship had anchored in this bay and
that you had not been able to communicate with her! And yet, in my
opinion, your chances of being restored to your own home were still
greatly increased."

"That is certain," Ernest said emphatically, "for our island was
no longer unknown, seeing that the ship must have ascertained its
position, which would have been entered in the charts. Some day or
other a ship would have come to take possession of this land."

"Well, finally and in conclusion," said Jack, "the _Unicorn_ did come,
the _Unicorn_ was observed, the _Unicorn_ was visited, the _Unicorn_
has gone, the _Unicorn_ will come back, and what we have to do now, I
think, is----"

"Have lunch?" Hannah Wolston put in, laughing.

"Exactly," Ernest answered.

"Let us sit down then," Jack claimed, "for I am hungry enough to eat my
plate--and I could digest it!"

They settled themselves at the top of the beach, near the gap in the
cliff, where there was shelter from the rays of the sun. Provisions
were fetched from the pinnace, potted meat, smoked ham, cold chicken,
cassava cakes, and bread baked the day before. To drink they had mead,
of which there were several casks in the pinnace's store room, and a
few bottles of Falconhurst wine to be uncorked later.

After the provisions and utensils had been brought ashore, Mrs. Wolston
with Mme. Zermatt and Hannah laid the cloth on a smooth stretch of fine
sand spread over thick bunches of very dry seaweed. Then all enjoyed a
good luncheon, which would satisfy them until the six o'clock dinner.

But it would not have been worth while to undertake the toil of a
voyage like this merely in order to land on this beach, go aboard
again, and anchor at some other point along the shore only to leave it,
too, in the same conditions. The Promised Land could only be a very
small portion of New Switzerland.

So directly the meal was finished Mr. Wolston said:

"I suggest that we spend this afternoon pushing into the interior of
the island."

"And at once," exclaimed Jack. "We ought to be a good two miles away
already."

"You would not have talked like that before lunch," Hannah remarked
with a smile; "you ate enough for four people."

"And now I am ready to walk four times as far as anyone else," Jack
answered; "ready to go to the end of the world--our small world, I
mean."

"But if you go so far, so very far, my dear boy," said Mme. Zermatt,
"we shall not be able to follow you."

"Upon my word," said M. Zermatt emphatically, slapping his son on the
shoulder, "I am at my wits' end to know how to curb Jack's impatience!
There is absolutely no way of holding him in. Why, I think even Fritz
never showed such----"

"Fritz?" Jack retorted. "Well, isn't it my duty to try to take his
place in everything? When he comes back he won't be what he was before
he went away."

"Why not?" Hannah asked.

"Because he will be married, father of a family, papa and grand-papa,
too, if he does not come back soon."

"Do you think so, Jack?" Mrs. Wolston laughed. "Fritz a grandfather
after one year's absence?"

"Well, grandfather or not, he will be married."

"And why shouldn't he be what he was, even then?" Hannah insisted.

"Let Jack talk, Hannah," Ernest answered. "His turn will come to make
an excellent husband just as Fritz's will."

"Just as yours will, my boy," Jack retorted, with a shrewd look at
Ernest and the young girl. "For my own part I should be mightily
surprised at such a thing; I think nature specially cut me out to be an
uncle, the very best of uncles, an Uncle of New Switzerland! But there
is no question to-day, so far as I am aware, of parading in bridal
array before the Mayor of Rock Castle; the question is, are we to
explore beyond this cliff?"

"I think," said Mrs. Wolston, "that Mme. Zermatt, Hannah, and I
had better stay here while you make your trip, which is sure to be
very tiring if it lasts until the evening. This beach is absolutely
deserted, and we need not be afraid of any unpleasant visitors.
Besides, it would be quite easy for us to return to the pinnace. If
you leave us like this at the camp there will be no risk of your being
delayed or stopped."

"I believe you would be perfectly safe here, my dear Merry," said M.
Zermatt, "and yet I should not be easy at leaving you."

"Right!" Ernest exclaimed, "I ask nothing better than to stay too,
while----"

"Ah!" cried Jack, "there's our student all over! To stay--no doubt to
shove his nose into his musty books! I am sure he has stuffed one or
two volumes into the bottom of the hold. Well, let him stay, but on
condition that Hannah comes with us."

"And your mother and Mrs. Wolston too," M. Zermatt added. "Upon
consideration that is much better. They will stop when they are tired."

"And then Ernest will be able to keep them company," said Jack,
laughing again.

"Don't let us waste time," said Mr. Wolston. "The difficulty might have
been to scale this cliff, which I should guess to be a hundred or a
hundred and fifty feet high. But, fortunately, the pitch of this gap is
not very steep, and that will take us onto the upper level. When once
we are on the top we will decide what is best to be done."

"Let's go! Let's go!" Jack repeated.

Before starting M. Zermatt went to examine the _Elizabeth's_ mooring.
He satisfied himself that there would be no danger of her grounding at
low tide or of striking against the rocks at high tide.

Then they all moved towards the gap. Each of the men carried a gun, a
shot bag, a powder flask, and some ball cartridge prepared by Jack.
The young sportsman quite expected indeed to bag some game, perhaps
some wild animal of known or unknown species, in this part of New
Switzerland.

Brownie and Fawn hunted in front. The party followed them up a slanting
track, the steepness of which was lessened by its many windings. In the
rainy season the gap doubtless served as a shoot for the water from the
platform above, which then would form a torrent. But now, at the height
of summer, its bed was dry. It was necessary to be careful in walking
between these rocks, which might easily have fallen like an avalanche
if the least shock had upset their equilibrium.

Quite half an hour was required to reach the top of the cliff.

The first to step out onto the top was the eager Jack.

Before him, towards the west, a vast plain extended as far as eye could
see.

Jack stood wonderstricken. He turned about to gaze round. When Mr.
Wolston joined him he exclaimed:

"What a country! What a surprise, and what a disappointment!"

The discomfiture was general when M. Zermatt and the others emerged
upon the plateau.

Mrs. Wolston and Mme. Zermatt, with Hannah near them, sat down at the
foot of a great block of rock. There was not a tree to give the least
shelter from a raging sun, no grass on which to lie down. The stony
ground, strewn haphazard with great rocks, unadapted to any vegetable
growth, was carpeted in places with some of those wild mosses which do
not require soil. As M. Zermatt declared, it was a desert of Arabia
Petræa adjoining the fertile district of the Promised Land.

It was indeed an amazing contrast to the region lying between Jackal
River and False Hope Point, and to the country beyond the defile of
Cluse, the Green Valley, and the land abutting on Pearl Bay. And Mme.
Zermatt's question may well be echoed, what would have been the plight
of the shipwrecked family if the tub boat had deposited them on the
eastern coast of the island?

From this cliff as far as Deliverance Bay, which could be discerned
five miles away to the west, the eye saw nothing but a desert country,
without verdure, without a tree, without a single stream. Upon its
surface no four-footed creature could be descried. It seemed to be
forsaken even by the birds of land and sea.

"This is the end of our excursion," said M. Zermatt, "at any rate in
this portion of our island."

"Beyond all question," Mr. Wolston replied; "I think it is quite
useless to brave this tropic heat to reconnoitre a stony country with
which nothing can be done."

"How capricious and fantastic nature is!" Ernest remarked. "She only
proceeds by contrasts! Down there, all her productive energy in action:
here, the most appalling sterility!"

"I think the best thing we can do," said Mme. Zermatt, "is to go down
to the beach again and return to the ship."

"I also think so," said Mr. Wolston.

"Very well," said Jack, "but not until we have climbed to the top of
the last rocks."

And he pointed to a heap of rocks which rose up on the left, sixty feet
or so above the ground level. In less than five minutes he was at the
top of it. Then after looking all round the horizon he called to Mr.
Wolston and to his father and brother to come and join him.

Did it mean that he had made some discovery in the south-west, in which
direction he was pointing?

Mr. Wolston and M. Zermatt were soon up beside him, though not without
some trouble.

In this direction the littoral did really present an entirely different
aspect.

About five miles from Unicorn Bay the cliff dropped abruptly and ended
at a broad valley, probably watered by one of the main rivers of the
island. On the further side of this depression were rolling, verdant
masses of dense woods. In the breaks in these and beyond them the
country displayed a most luxuriant vegetation to the extreme limits of
the south and south-west.

The arid district seemed to be confined to the immediate area of
some twelve to fifteen square miles contained between Cape East and
Deliverance Bay.

If ever a country called for exploration, it was certainly that which
now was seen for the first time. What surprises and what opportunities
might it not have in store, although it could never surpass the
Promised Land!

"Let us go," said Jack.

"Let us go," Mr. Wolston echoed, eager to hurry towards the new valley.

But five long miles over ground strewn with boulders, following a way
among the rocks--think of the time needed to do them, and the fatigue,
to say nothing of the danger of sunstroke on this shadeless tableland!

So M. Zermatt was obliged to restrain the impatience of Mr. Wolston and
Jack.

"Not to-day," he said. "It is getting too late. Let us wait until
to-morrow. Instead of crossing this district on foot, we will go by
sea. The valley we can see almost certainly ends in some section of
the sea-shore, in some creek where a river runs out. If the pinnace
finds a good anchorage there we will devote one or two days to a really
serious exploration of the interior."

It was the wisest course, and no one could raise an objection to it.

After a parting glance all round, M. Zermatt, with Mr. Wolston and
Jack, went down and explained to the others what had been decided.
The exploration, postponed until the morrow, would be carried out
under conditions which would enable the whole party to take part in it
without danger or fatigue.

It now only remained to descend the path through the gap in the cliff,
and it took but a few minutes to reach the foot.

Though there was an entire absence of game on the shores of Unicorn
Bay, as Jack complained, there were swarms of fish in its waters and
of crustaceans among its rocks, with which Ernest expressed himself
as being entirely satisfied. With the help of Hannah he set some nets
and got some good fishing, with the result that for dinner there was
a supplementary dish of large crabs with most excellent flesh and of
small fried soles of good quality.

After dinner they took a final stroll as far as the end of the beach
and about nine o'clock all the party went on board the _Elizabeth_
again.




                              CHAPTER IX

                            MONTROSE RIVER


Next morning M. Zermatt's first thought was to scan the eastern
horizon. Behind a light veil of mist, soon to be dispersed, the solar
disk was looming, enlarged by the refraction. A magnificent day was
heralded. There was nothing to indicate any atmospheric disturbance.
For three or four days the barometer had been set fair. The atmosphere
was rendered a little opaque by the dust, unweighted by humidity, which
it held in suspension. Further, the breeze, which was rather fresh,
seemed to be settled in the north-west. The sea would be calm for quite
a couple of miles out. So the pinnace would be able to continue her
voyage along the line of coast in perfect safety.

At six o'clock everybody was on deck and the hawsers were cast off.
With her foresail, mainsail, and jibs all hauled aboard and gathered,
the little vessel cleared the point and took the open sea, where the
wind was more appreciably felt. Half an hour later, with her course set
southwards and Mr. Wolston at the helm, the _Elizabeth_ was following
the meanderings of the coast at a distance of ten cable-lengths, so
that the eye could see its least details from the indentations of the
beach to the top of the rocky cliffs.

As far as could be calculated, it must be from ten to twelve miles from
Unicorn Bay to the valley which had been observed to the southward.
Two or three hours would suffice to accomplish that distance. The
tide, which had been on the flood since sunrise, was setting in that
direction and would probably be slack by the time the _Elizabeth_
reached her destination.

On both sides of the _Elizabeth_ swift companies of magnificent
sturgeons were darting and playing in the water, some of them measuring
seven to eight feet in length. Jack and Ernest were wild to harpoon
them, but M. Zermatt would not allow them to do so. No good purpose
would have been served by delaying the voyage for this sport. Mackerel
and weevers, which could be taken while sailing, were another matter.
So some lines were trailed from the stern and brought up several dozen
of those excellent fish, which, boiled in salt water, would make their
appearance at luncheon at the first stop.

There was no change in the appearance of the coast. It still presented
an unbroken front of limestone or granite, a lofty wall rising from the
sand, pierced with caverns in which the roaring of the sea must have
been appalling when the waves rushed into them, driven before the gales
blowing from the open sea. The impression made upon the mind by this
coast was one of profound gloom.

Yet, as the ship got further south a certain animation became
noticeable, due to the incessant flight of frigate birds, booby birds,
sea-gulls, and albatrosses, whose cries were deafening. Sometimes they
came within gunshot. Jack was itching to shoot, and he might not have
been able to resist his temptation if Hannah had not interceded for the
inoffensive creatures.

"Perhaps Jenny's albatross is among all these others," she suggested.
"What a pity it would be, Jack, if you were to kill that poor creature!"

"Hannah is right," said Ernest.

"As usual," Jack answered, "and I promise not to shoot another
albatross until we have found the one that brought the message from
Burning Rock."

"Would you like me to tell you what I think?" Hannah went on.

"Of course!" Jack replied.

"Well, that we shall see that albatross again some day."

"Naturally, since I shan't have killed it."

About nine o'clock the pinnace was almost abreast of the depression
formed by an abrupt bend of the cliff towards the interior. The ridge
of the coast was becoming lower. Broad mounds, less rugged of aspect,
connected it now with the sandy beach, which was broken by large
protuberances of a blackish hue. There were many reefs, covered at high
tide, in some cases running out several cable-lengths from the shore.
The _Elizabeth_ approached them cautiously. Mr. Wolston leaned over
the bow and observed the water attentively, noting every suspicious
agitation and every change of colour which might indicate the proximity
of a reef.

Suddenly Jack cried:

"Ah, at any rate no one can say that this coast is deserted! There are
people over there, and fine people, too!"

All eyes turned towards the beach and the rocks where Jack's keen eyes
detected numbers of living creatures.

"What do you mean, my boy?" his mother asked. "You see men
there--savages perhaps?"

It was of savages, the fierce Indo-Malay savages, that Mme. Zermatt was
always and quite reasonably, most afraid.

"Come, Jack, answer!" said his father.

"Don't be uneasy! Don't be uneasy!" Jack replied. "I did not say
anything about human beings. These have got two legs, but they have
feathers too."

"Then they are penguins?" Ernest enquired.

"Or auks."

"It is easy to confuse them, Jack," said Ernest, "for those birds are
closely allied in the order of palmipedes."

"Let us say in the goose family, to save any dispute," M. Zermatt
answered; "and goose is the best name for these stupid birds."

"Perhaps that is why they are sometimes mistaken for men," Jack
suggested slyly.

"Wag!" Hannah exclaimed.

"Only from a distance," M. Zermatt added. "And really, just look at
their necks with a ring of white feathers, their small wings hanging
down like two little arms, their upright heads, their black feet,
and the regular lines in which they are drawn up! They look like a
regiment of soldiers in uniform. Do you remember, boys, what a number
of penguins there used to be on the rocks at the mouth of Jackal River?"

"Rather!" said Ernest; "I can still see Jack rushing into the midst of
the foe, with water up to his waist, and hitting out so stoutly that he
knocked over half-a-dozen of the penguins with his stick!"

"Exactly," Jack acknowledged. "And as I was only ten years old at the
time didn't I show promise?"

"You have fulfilled the promise, too," added M. Zermatt with a smile.
"The poor creatures that we ill treated thus evidently made haste to
abandon the beach at Deliverance Bay, and came to take refuge on this
coast."

Whether this was so or not, it was the fact that the auks or penguins
had absolutely deserted the shores of the bay within the first few
months after the settlement at Rock Castle.

Continuing on her way along the line of coast, the _Elizabeth_ passed
by wide stretches where at low water vast sheets of salt deposit must
be left high and dry. There must have been enough to employ a hundred
hands salt-raking, and the future colony would be able to collect there
all the salt it could possibly require.

From the foot of the cliff, which ended here in a sharp angle, a
promontory ran out beneath the water. The pinnace was obliged to sheer
off more than a mile to sea. When she again put in towards the coast,
it was to make for the creek where the valley debouched which had been
seen from the heights above Unicorn Bay.

"A river! There is a river!" cried Jack, perched at the top of the
foremast.

M. Zermatt was examining the shore through a telescope, and this is
what he saw:

On the right hand, the cliff bent sharply and went back along the slope
of the interior. On the left hand, the coast line ended in a cape
at least ten or fifteen miles away. The whole campaign was verdant
with grass lands and woods, rising tier on tier to the limits of the
horizon. Between these two points curved the creek, forming a natural
harbour, screened by curtains of rock from the adverse easterly winds,
and apparently having easily navigable passages.

Across this creek was a calm and limpid river shaded by fine trees.
It appeared to be navigable, and as far as could be judged from this
distance, its course bent towards the south-west.

This was manifestly the spot for the pinnace to put in at, as there
was an excellent anchorage. So her head was turned towards the passage
which gave entrance to it, and, with all sail taken in except the
mainsail and jib, she beat up against the wind, on the starboard tack.
The flood tide, which had still an hour to run, helped her. The sea was
absolutely calm. At lowest ebb perhaps a reef might show here and there
amid the splashing surf.

No precaution that prudence dictated was neglected. M. Zermatt at the
tiller, Mr. Wolston and Ernest posted at the bow, and Jack astride
the cross-bars, all kept their eyes on the passage up the middle of
which the _Elizabeth_ was moving. Mme. Zermatt, with Mrs. Wolston and
her daughter, sat upon the poop. All maintained silence, under the
two-fold influence of curiosity and of vague anxiety in approaching
this new country in which human beings were about to set foot probably
for the first time. The silence was only broken by the murmur of the
water along the hull, mingled with the flapping of the sails which were
spilling the wind, the directions called out by Jack and the cries of
gulls and sea-mews flying wildly towards the rocks surrounding the
creek.

It was eleven o'clock when the anchor was dropped beside a kind of
natural quay on the left of the river mouth, where an easy landing was
available. A little behind, some tall palm trees offered a sufficient
protection from the rays of the sun which had now almost reached the
meridian. After luncheon an organised exploration of the interior could
be arranged.

The mouth of this river appeared to be as deserted as the mouth of
Jackal River had been when the shipwrecked people first came ashore
there. It did not look as if human foot had ever been set there
before. The only difference was that instead of a narrow, winding,
and unnavigable stream, a water-course was here displayed which must
certainly run far back into the middle portion of the island.

Jack jumped ashore the moment the _Elizabeth_ had anchored, and,
hauling on to a hawser made fast to her stern, drew her alongside
of the rocks. This rendered it unnecessary to use the canoe to land
by, and in a few minutes all were upon the beach. After carrying the
provisions up to the shade of the clump of trees, the first business
was the satisfaction of an alarming appetite, sharpened by a voyage of
several hours in the keen air.

But eating did not wholly interfere with the interchange of question
and answer.

"Is it perhaps not a pity that we did not rather anchor on the left
bank of the river?" said Mr. Wolston. "The bank is low on this side,
whereas on the other the buttress of the cliff towers a hundred feet
above it."

"And I should not have had any difficulty in climbing to the top," Jack
declared. "From there at least we should have been able to get a first
view of the country."

"There is nothing easier than to cross the creek in the canoe," M.
Zermatt answered. "But why should we be sorry? On the other bank I can
only see stones and sand as far as the desert which reaches from Cape
East to this bay. On this side, on the contrary, we have vegetation,
trees and shade, and, beyond, opens out the country which we saw from
the sea, and which it will be easy to explore. In my opinion we could
not have chosen better."

"And we do approve of the choice, don't we, Mr. Wolston?" said Betsy.

"Quite, Mme. Zermatt; and we go over to the other bank whenever we
like."

"I should like to add," said Mrs. Wolston, "that we are so very
comfortable where we are----"

"That you would like to stay here!" Jack finished gaily. "Come, that's
settled! Let us abandon Rock Castle, Falconhurst, the Promised Land,
and let us come and found the ultimate capital of New Switzerland here
at the mouth of this magnificent river."

"Jack is off again!" Ernest answered. "But in spite of his joking, it
is clear that the size of this river and the depth of the creek into
which it runs do offer greater advantages for the establishment of a
colony than the mouth of Jackal River does. But we must explore this
region thoroughly, study its resources, and ascertain whether or not it
is frequented by any dangerous animals."

"That is talking like a wise man," said Hannah Wolston.

"As Ernest always talks," his brother retorted.

"In any case," M. Zermatt added, "splendid and rich as this country may
be, we could not abandon the Promised Land."

"Certainly not," said Mme. Zermatt emphatically. "It would break my
heart to leave it altogether."

"I quite understand you, Betsy dear," Mrs. Wolston replied, "and I
would never consent to separate from you in order to live here."

"Well," said Mr. Wolston, "there is no question of doing that, but only
of walking about the immediate neighbourhood after lunch."

The question being stated in terms like that, all were unanimous in
hailing Mr. Wolston's proposal. Yet his wife and daughter and Mme.
Zermatt would have excused themselves from taking part in an expedition
which could not fail to be a tiring one, if after some reflection M.
Zermatt had not said:

"I should not like to think of you alone in this place, even for only
a few hours, and you know, Betsy, that I have never left you at Rock
Castle without putting you in charge of one of the boys. In the event
of danger during our absence, what would become of you? I should not be
easy for a minute. But we can arrange everything; since the river is
navigable, why should we not all go up it together?"

"In the canoe?" Ernest asked.

"No; in the pinnace, which, moreover, I would prefer not to leave
anchored here while we are away."

"Agreed," Betsy replied; "we are all three ready to go with you."

"Will the _Elizabeth_ be able to make way against the stream?" Mr.
Wolston enquired.

"We shall have the current with us," M. Zermatt answered, "if we wait
for the flood tide. The tide will turn soon, and in six hours we shall
be able to take advantage of it."

"Will it not be too late to make a start then?" Mrs. Wolston suggested.

"Well, yes, it would be too late," M. Zermatt replied. "So it seems to
me it would be wiser to finish the day here, spend the night on board,
and get under way with the flood tide at daybreak."

"And until then?" Jack enquired.

"Until then," M. Zermatt answered, "we shall have time to inspect the
creek and the immediate neighbourhood. But, as the heat is very great,
I advise the ladies to await our return at the camp."

"Willingly," said Mrs. Wolston, "provided you do not go very far away."

"It is merely a matter of a walk along the right bank of the river,
from which we will not wander," M. Zermatt promised.

This plan permitted of an investigation of the lower valley being made
before penetrating into the hinterland.

M. Zermatt and Mr. Wolston, with Ernest and Jack, climbed up onto the
bank again, and reached some slightly swelling ground which connected
the water-course with the country on the western side.

This territory presented a very fertile appearance--woods, here and
there, in dense masses; plains carpeted with thick grass, where
thousands of ruminants might have found sustenance; a veritable network
of little streams all running towards the main river; and lastly, like
a barrier on the south-western horizon, the mountain range which had
already been remarked in that direction.

"Talking of that," said M. Zermatt, "I must admit that the range is not
so far away as we supposed when we saw it for the first time from the
heights above the Green Valley. Probably it was a haze that gave it its
bluish tint, and I estimated the distance at more than thirty miles. It
was an optical illusion. Ernest understands that, I expect."

"Quite, Papa; that day the distance looked twice what it really is.
If we estimate the distance of that range from the Green Valley at
eighteen or twenty miles we shall be pretty near the truth, I believe."

"I think so, too," said Mr. Wolston. "But is it actually the same
range?"

"Oh, yes, it is the same," Ernest answered; "I do not think New
Switzerland is large enough to contain another of that size."

"Why not?" Jack asked. "Why should not our island be as large as
Sicily, or Madagascar, or New Zealand, or Australia?"

"And why should it not be a continent?" exclaimed Mr. Wolston, laughing.

"You seem to think that I always exaggerate everything," Jack retorted.

"You do, my boy," said M. Zermatt; "after all, that only means you
are over-imaginative. But just think: if this island were as large
as you suppose, and probably wish, it could hardly have escaped the
observation of navigators."

"Of the old and the new world too," Ernest added. "Its position in
this part of the Indian Ocean is much too valuable, and if it had been
known, you may be quite sure that England, for example----"

"Don't stand upon ceremony, my dear Ernest," said Mr. Wolston
good-humouredly. "We English are born colonisers, and claim a right to
colonise everything we come across."

"And so, to make an end of it," M. Zermatt resumed, "from the day our
island had been discovered it would have figured in the Admiralty
charts and no doubt would have been called New England instead of New
Switzerland."

"Anyhow," said Mr. Wolston, "it will not have lost anything by the
waiting since you, its first occupant, have surrendered it to Great
Britain."

"And since the _Unicorn_ is going to bring it the official certificate
of adoption," added Jack.

It had still to be ascertained whether the range rose in the centre of
the island or at the extreme end of its southern coast.

When this point had been established Ernest would be in a position
to complete his map of New Switzerland. And this natural desire was
justification for Mr. Wolston's suggestion that they should explore
the country as far as the foot of the mountains, and even make the
ascent of these. But this plan could only be carried into effect at the
beginning of the next dry season.

Ernest had taken and recorded with approximate accuracy the bearings
of all the portions of the island that had been visited. The coast
line on the north was about thirty miles in length; on the east it ran
in an almost straight line from Cape East to the mouth of Deliverance
Bay; next came that bay, hollowed out somewhat like a leather bottle,
and joining the rocky coast between Falconhurst beach and the reefs
of False Hope Point; beyond this, to the westward, Nautilus Bay was
scooped out, terminated by Cape Snub-nose, and receiving the waters of
the Eastern River; lastly, in broad, sweeping curves, the vast Pearl
Bay was cut out of the littoral, between the archway and the opposite
promontory, behind which, ten miles out at sea in the south-west, lay
Burning Rock.

Thus the Promised Land, contained between the sea on one side and
Nautilus Bay on the other, and enclosed by a long wall of mountains
extending from the mouth of Deliverance Bay to the innermost point
of Nautilus Bay, was inaccessible except through the defile of Cluse
on its southern boundary. This district of about ten square miles
contained Jackal River, the stream at Falconhurst, Swan Lake, the
dwelling-places of Rock Castle and Falconhurst, and the farmsteads at
Wood Grange, Sugar-cane Grove, and the hermitage at Eberfurt.

The exploration was now carried out along the banks of the
water-course, from which M. Zermatt did not care to move away. This was
quite to Ernest's mind, and he said:

"When we get back from this trip I shall be able to trace the course
of part of this river and of the valley it irrigates. In view of the
fertility of this new territory, it is unquestionable that our island
could support several thousand colonists."

"As many as that?" exclaimed Jack, not attempting to conceal his
vexation at the idea that his "second fatherland" might be so densely
populated some day.

"Further," Ernest went on, "since it is always well for a town to be
built near the mouth of a river, future inhabitants will most likely
decide to settle here beside this creek."

"Well, we won't dispute it with them," M. Zermatt remarked. "Not one of
us could ever make up his mind to leave the Promised Land."

"Especially as Mme. Zermatt would never consent to do so," Mr. Wolston
observed. "She has formally proclaimed that."

"Mamma is right," Jack exclaimed. "And ask all our good servants,
furred and feathered; ask Storm, and Grumbler, and Swift, and Paleface,
and Bull and Arrow, and Nip the Second, the Lightfoot, and Whirlwind,
and Turk, and then ask Brownie and Fawn, who are here present, if they
would ever consent to move into a new house! Give them a vote, and
have a scrutiny, and as they are the majority I know what the popular
decision will be!"

"Be sensible, Jack," M. Zermatt answered. "There is no need for us to
consult any of our dumb brutes."

"Not such brutes as the name might lead you to suppose!" Jack retorted,
running and shouting to excite the two young dogs to wilder frolic.

About six o'clock M. Zermatt and his companions returned to the
encampment, by way of the coast, which was bordered by long beaches
with a background of resinous trees. Dinner was taken on the grass, and
the diners enjoyed a dish of fried gudgeon taken from the fresh water
of the river with the lines which Ernest had got ready for Hannah. This
river appeared to be full of fish, and in the streamlets which flowed
into it higher up there were swarms of crayfish, some dozens of which
they promised to catch before leaving.

After dinner no one evinced any desire to return on board the pinnace,
and it was only the absence of a tent that rendered the wish to sleep
on the shore impracticable. It was a magnificent evening. A light
breeze laden with the fragrance of the country, sweet as the savour
stealing from a bowl of rose-leaves, perfumed and refreshed the entire
atmosphere. After a long day under a tropical sun it was pure joy to
draw this life-giving, life-restoring air deep into the lungs.

There was every guarantee of fine weather. A light haze shaded the
horizon out at sea. The atmospheric dust held in the higher regions of
the air just dimmed the scintillation of the stars. Beneath those stars
the party walked and talked over their plans for the morrow. Then,
about ten o'clock, all went on board the _Elizabeth_ and each and all
made ready to regain their berths except Ernest who was to take the
first watch.

Just as they were going below Mme. Zermatt made a remark:

"There is one thing you have forgotten," said she.

"Forgotten, Betsy?" said M. Zermatt enquiringly.

"Yes: to give a name to this river."

"Quite right," M. Zermatt admitted; "it is an oversight that would have
vexed Ernest in his map-making."

"Well," said Ernest, "there is a name already indicated for it. Let us
call the river Hannah."

"Excellent!" said Jack. "Would you like that, Hannah?"

"Of course I should," the young girl replied, "but I have another name
to suggest, and it deserves the compliment."

"What is it?" Mme. Zermatt asked.

"Our dear Jenny's family name."

Every one agreed, and henceforward Montrose River figured on the map of
New Switzerland.




                               CHAPTER X

                          THE DISTANT SMOKE!


The next morning about six o'clock, at low tide, the points of a few
rocks which had not been visible the day before were exposed round the
edge of the creek. It was ascertained, however, that even at lowest ebb
practicable passages remained forty to fifty fathoms in width. This
meant that the Montrose river was navigable at all stages of the tide.
The depth of water near the rocks where the _Elizabeth_ was moored was
so great that she was still floating five or six feet above the sandy
bottom.

About seven o'clock ripples were breaking along the rocks, forerunners
of the flood tide, and the pinnace would soon have swung round upon her
anchor if she had not been held by the hawser aft.

Mr. Wolston and Ernest, who had been ashore since daybreak, came back
at this moment, after inspecting the condition of the creek lower down.
They merely had to jump on deck to rejoin M. and Mme. Zermatt and Mrs.
Wolston and her daughter. Jack had gone out hunting with his two dogs,
and was still absent. A few gunshots notified his presence in the
neighbourhood and suggested his success in his sport. It was not long
before he put in an appearance, with his game-bag bulging with a brace
of partridges and half-a-dozen quails.

"I have not wasted my time or my powder," he remarked as he flung the
brilliant-plumaged game down in the bows.

"Our congratulations," his father replied; "and now do not let us waste
any more of the flood tide. Cast off the hawser and jump aboard."

Jack obeyed, and leaped onto the deck with his dogs. The anchor being
apeak already, it was only necessary to trice it up to the cathead.
The pinnace was immediately caught by the tide, and, driven by a light
breeze blowing in from the sea, she entered the mouth of the Montrose
river. Then with the wind behind her she began to ascend it, keeping to
the middle of the channel.

The breadth of the stream from one bank to the other was not less than
two hundred and fifty or three hundred feet. There was no indication
of its narrowing, as far as the eye could see the banks ahead. On the
right hand still ran the escarpment of the cliff, gradually diminishing
in height while the ground rose in a barely perceptible slope. On the
left, over the rather low bank, the eye travelled over plains broken
by woods and clumps of trees, the tops of which were turning yellow at
this season of the year.

After half an hour's good travelling, the _Elizabeth_ reached the first
bend of the Montrose, which, making a loop of about thirty degrees, now
wound towards the south-west.

Beyond this bend the banks were not more than ten or twelve feet
high--the height of the highest tides. This was proved by the layers of
grass deposited among the tangled reeds, sharp-edged like bayonets.
Inasmuch as on this date, the 19th of March, the equinoctial tides
attained their maximum height, the conclusion was that the bed of the
river was deep enough to contain all the sum of its waters, and that it
never overflowed the surrounding country.

The pinnace was moving at from eight to ten knots an hour, which meant
that she might expect to cover somewhere near twenty miles during the
time the flood tide lasted.

Ernest had taken note of her speed and remarked:

"That is more or less the distance at which we have calculated the
mountains rise in the south."

"Quite so," Mr. Wolston replied; "and if the river washes the foot of
the range we shall have no difficulty in reaching it. In that case we
need not postpone our projected trip for three or four months."

"Still, it would take more time than we can spare now," M. Zermatt
answered. "Even if the Montrose did take us to the foot of the range
we should not have reached our goal. We should still have to ascend to
the summit, and in all probability that would involve much time and
trouble."

"Besides," Ernest added, "when we have ascertained whether the river
continues its course towards the south-west, we have yet to learn
whether the stream is broken by rapids or barred by any obstacles we
cannot pass."

"We shall soon see," M. Zermatt replied. "Let us go on while the flood
tide carries us, and we will make up our minds on the other point in a
few hours' time."

Beyond the bend the two banks were much less steep, and enabled a wide
view to be obtained of the region traversed by the Montrose.

Game of every kind swarmed in the grass and among the reeds along the
banks; bustards, grouse, partridges and quails. If Jack had sent his
dogs foraging along the banks and in the adjacent country, they could
not have gone fifty yards without putting up rabbits, hares, agoutis,
peccaries, and water-cavies. In this respect this district equalled
that round Falconhurst, and the farmsteads--even in regard to the
monkey tribe, which capered from tree to tree. A little way off, herds
of antelope raced by, of the same species as that which was penned on
Shark's Island. Herds of buffalo, too, were seen in more than one spot
in the direction of the range, and sometimes distant glimpses were
caught of herds of ostriches, half running, half flying as they sped
away. On this occasion, M. Zermatt and his two sons did not mistake
them for Arabs, as they had mistaken the first ostriches they saw from
the heights above the hermitage at Eberfurt.

Jack was impatient at being pinned to the _Elizabeth's_ deck and unable
to jump ashore, at having to watch all these birds and animals going by
without being able to speed them with a shot. Yet there would have been
no good in bringing down any of the game, since it was not required.

"We are not hunters to-day," his father reminded him; "we are
explorers, and, more particularly, geographers on a mission in this
part of New Switzerland."

The young Nimrod did not see the matter in that light, and made up his
mind to beat the country with his dogs as soon as the pinnace reached
her first anchorage. He would further the cause of geography in his own
fashion; that is, he would survey partridges and hares instead of the
points of the compass. This last was the job for the learned Ernest
who was so anxious to add to his map the new territory that lay to the
south of the Promised Land.

Of carnivorous animals and of those wild beasts which, as has been
said, were so numerous in the woods and plains at the end of Pearl Bay
and at the entrance to the Green Valley, not a trace was seen along the
banks of the Montrose during the course of this voyage. By great good
fortune no lions or tigers, panthers or leopards, showed themselves.
Jackals could be heard, indeed, howling in the outskirts of the nearest
woods. The conclusion was that these beasts, which belong to a subgenus
of the Canidæ family, between the wolf and the fox, constituted the
majority of the fauna of the island.

It would be an oversight not to make mention of the many waterfowl
seen, duck, teal, and snipe, which flew from one bank to another or
took cover among the reeds. Jack would never willingly have thrown
away such opportunities of exercising his skill. So he fired a few
successful shots, and no one found fault with him for doing so, unless,
perhaps, it was Hannah, who always begged quarter for these inoffensive
creatures.

"Inoffensive, perhaps, but excellent--when they are cooked to a turn!"
Jack retorted.

And it really was matter for congratulation that at luncheon and
dinner the bill of fare was supplemented by the wild fowl which Fawn
retrieved from the stream of the Montrose.

It was a little after eleven o'clock that the _Elizabeth_ reached a
second bend in the river which turned further to the west, according to
Ernest's expectation. From its general direction it could be deduced
with sufficient certainty that it came down from the range, still some
fifteen miles or more away, from which it was manifestly fed largely.

"It is annoying that the tide has almost finished running," said
Ernest, "and that we cannot go any farther."

"Really annoying," M. Zermatt replied, "but it is slack now, and the
ebb will be perceptible quite soon. Well, as this is the season of
the highest tides, it is clear that the flood tide never reaches much
beyond this bend of the Montrose."

"Nothing could be clearer," Mr. Wolston agreed. "So now we must decide
whether we shall moor here or whether we shall take advantage of the
ebb to go back to the creek, which the pinnace could reach in less than
two hours."

The spot was charming, and every one was much tempted to spend the day
there. The left bank formed a tiny cove, into which a little tributary
of fresh and running water fell. Above it bent some mighty trees, with
dense foliage, in which myriad chirpings and rustlings of wings were
heard. It was a clump of enormous Indian fig-trees, almost identical
with the mangrove-trees at Falconhurst. Behind this were groups of
evergreen oaks, through whose shade the sun's rays could not pierce.
Right at the back, under the dome of guava trees and cinnamons, down
the whole length of the tributary stream, a fresh breeze stole, swaying
the lower branches like so many fans.

"What a perfectly delightful spot!" Mme. Zermatt exclaimed. "Expressly
designed to be the site of a villa! A pity it is so far from Rock
Castle!"

"Yes: much too far, my dear," M. Zermatt replied. "But the site will
not be wasted, you may be quite sure, and we must not take everything
for ourselves. Would you leave nothing for our future fellow-citizens?"

"You may be quite sure, Betsy," Mrs. Wolston said, "that this part of
the island, watered by the Montrose river, will be much sought after by
new colonists."

"Meanwhile," said Jack, "I vote we camp here until evening, and even
till to-morrow morning."

"That is what we have to decide," M. Zermatt declared. "We must not
forget that the ebb can take us back to the creek in a couple of hours,
and that we should be back at Rock Castle by to-morrow evening."

"What do you think about it, Hannah?" Ernest asked.

"Let your father decide," the girl answered. "But I quite agree that
this spot is delightful, and it would be pleasant to stay in it for one
afternoon."

"Besides," Ernest continued, "I should like to take a few more
bearings."

"And we should like to take a little nourishment," Jack exclaimed.
"Let us have lunch! Of your pity, let us have lunch!"

It was agreed that they should spend the afternoon and evening in this
loop of the Montrose. Then, at the next ebb tide, about one o'clock in
the morning, when the night was clear--there would be a full moon--the
pinnace would go down the river without the least risk. After leaving
the creek she would either go to Unicorn Bay and anchor there, or would
round Cape East and make Rock Castle, as the state of the sea and the
direction of the wind might dictate.

As soon as the pinnace was made fast by her bows to the foot of a tree,
her stern immediately swung round down stream, clear proof that the ebb
tide was beginning to run.

After luncheon Mme. Zermatt, Mrs. Wolston, and Hannah agreed to
settle themselves down in the encampment while the exploration of the
surrounding country was effected. It really was important to make a
more complete survey of this region. So it was arranged that M. Zermatt
and Jack should go and hunt along the little tributary, remaining
comparatively close to its mouth, and that Mr. Wolston and Ernest
should take the canoe and go as far up the river as they could, to
return in time for dinner.

The canoe, paddled by Mr. Wolston and Ernest, set off up river, while
M. Zermatt and Jack went along the bank of the winding streamlet which
ran down from the north.

Beyond this loop the Montrose bent towards the south-west. The canoe
kept on its way along banks bordered by leafy forest trees and
rendered almost inaccessible by tangled grasses and interlaced reeds.
It would have been impossible to effect a landing there, and it was not
necessary. The important thing was to ascertain the general direction
of the river by ascending it as far as possible. Moreover, the field of
vision was soon enlarged. A mile or so further up, the forest mass grew
less dense. Further on again, broad plains succeeded, deformed with
rocky excrescences, which appeared to reach unbroken right to the foot
of the mountains.

The surface of the Montrose river shone like a mirror. There was good
reason to regret leaving the shadow of the trees which bordered it
lower down. Moreover, in the midst of a broiling atmosphere, where
there was now scarcely a breath of air, paddling was really hard work.
Fortunately, the force of the stream was not increased by the tide
running down, for the flood did not reach beyond the last loop or
elbow. They only had to contend with the normal flow of the river. The
waters were low now. Matters would be different in a few weeks' time,
during the rainy season, when the mountain range would send down its
contribution through the natural issue of the Montrose.

In spite of the heat, Mr. Wolston and Ernest paddled along
energetically. Among the fantastic bluffs of the river, behind the
points, there were occasional backwaters which they chose to take, so
as to economise their labour.

"It is not impossible," said Mr. Wolston, "that we might reach the
foot of the range in which the Montrose must have its source."

"So you cling to your idea, sir?" Ernest replied, shaking his head.

"Yes, I do, and it is most devoutly to be wished it may be so, my dear
boy. You will never know your island thoroughly until you have surveyed
its entire extent from the top of those mountains, which, I may further
remark, do not appear to be very lofty."

"I estimate their height at from twelve to fifteen hundred feet, Mr.
Wolston, and I agree with you that from the top of them it will be
possible to see all over New Switzerland, unless it is much larger than
we suppose. What is there beyond that range? The only reason why we do
not know already is that during these past twelve years we have never
felt pinched for room in the Promised Land."

"Quite so, my dear boy," Mr. Wolston replied; "but it is a matter of
real concern now to ascertain the actual size and importance of an
island which is destined to be colonised."

"That will be done, sir, next dry season, and before the _Unicorn_
comes back, you may be quite sure. To-day, however, I think it will be
wisest to limit ourselves to just these few hours' exploring; that will
be enough to enable us to ascertain the general course of the river."

"Yet with a little perseverance, Ernest, we might perhaps be able to
reach the range, and climb its northern slope."

"Provided the climb is not too steep, sir."

"Oh, well, with a good pair of legs----"

"You ought to have brought Jack instead of me," said Ernest with a
smile. "He would not have gainsaid you; he would have urged you to push
on as far as the mountains, even if you could not have got back before
to-morrow or the day after; and a nice state of anxiety we should all
have been in, during your long delay!"

"Well, yes, you are quite right, my dear boy," Mr. Wolston admitted.
"We must keep our promise since we have given it. One more hour's
going, and then our canoe shall return with the stream. No matter! I
shall not rest until we have planted the flag of old England on the
highest peak of New Switzerland!"

Mr. Wolston's ambition, so warmly declared, was that of a good
Englishman, at a time when Great Britain was sending her sailors over
all the seas in the wide world to extend her colonial possessions. But
he saw that it would be better to defer taking possession of the island
until later, and he refrained from pressing the matter further now.

They went on their way in the canoe. The further they penetrated
towards the south-west, the more open, treeless, and sterile the
country became. The grass lands were succeeded by barren tracts strewn
with stones. Hardly any birds flew over this naked area. There was no
sign of animal life except the howling of packs of jackals, which kept
out of sight.

"Jack was well advised not to come with us this time," Ernest remarked.

"Yes, indeed," Mr. Wolston answered; "he would not have had the chance
for a single shot. He will have much better luck in the forest land
that is watered by the little tributary of the Montrose."

"Anyhow, what we bring back as the result of our trip is the
information that this part of the island is like the part above Unicorn
Bay," said Ernest. "Who can say whether it is not much the same on the
other side of the range? Most likely the fertile part of the island is
the north and the middle only, between Pearl Bay and the Green Valley."

"So when we set out on our big excursion," Mr. Wolston replied, "I
think it will be best to march straight south instead of going all
round the coast to the east or west."

"I think so, too, sir, and the best way to get into the country will be
through the defile of Cluse."

It was now nearly four o'clock. The canoe was five or six miles above
the encampment when a sound of roaring waters became audible from
higher up the stream. Was it a mountain stream rushing into the bed of
Montrose? Or was it the Montrose itself, forming rapids there? Did some
dam of rocks render it unnavigable in the upper reaches?

Mr. Wolston and Ernest, stationary at the moment in a back water under
the shelter of a bluff, were just preparing to turn back. As the bank
was too steep for them to see above it Mr. Wolston said:

"Let us take a few strokes more and turn the point."

"Certainly," said Ernest; "it looks as if the Montrose will not help a
boat to get up to the foot of the mountains."

Mr. Wolston and Ernest began to paddle again with what strength they
had left after their four hours' toil under a burning sun.

The river here made a bend towards the south-west, which was manifestly
its general direction. A few moments later, some hundred yards further
up, a much longer reach came into view. It was dammed by a heap of
rocks scattered from one bank to the other, with only narrow breaks
between, through which the water poured in noisy falls that spread
commotion fifty yards below.

"That would have stopped us if we had meant to go on," Ernest remarked.

"It might have been possible to carry the canoe beyond the dam," Mr.
Wolston answered.

"If it is nothing more than a dam, sir."

"We will find out, my dear boy, for it is really important to know. Let
us get ashore."

On the left hand there was a narrow gorge, quite dry at this season,
which wound away across the upland. In a few weeks' time, no doubt,
when the rainy season began, it would serve as the bed of a torrent
whose roaring waters would join those of the Montrose.

Mr. Wolston drove the boat-hook into the ground; and he and Ernest
stepped onto the bank, up which they went so as to approach the dam
from the side.

It took them about a quarter of an hour to cover the intervening
distance, the path being strewn with stones loosely held in the sand by
coarse clumps of grass.

Scattered here and there, too, were pebbles of a brownish tint, with
rounded corners, very like shingle, and about the size of nuts.

When Mr. Wolston and Ernest reached the dam they discovered that the
Montrose was unnavigable for a good mile and a half. Its bed was
obstructed with rocks among which the water boiled, and the portage of
a canoe up stream would be a very laborious business.

The country appeared to be absolutely barren right up to the foot of
the range. For any trace of verdure it was necessary to look towards
the north-west and north, in the direction of the Green Valley, the
distant forests of which could just be seen on the boundary of the
Promised Land.

So there was nothing for it but to retrace their steps, and this Mr.
Wolston and Ernest did, greatly regretting that the Montrose was
blocked in this portion of its course.

As they went along the winding gorge Ernest picked up a few of the
brownish pebbles, which were heavier than their size seemed to warrant.
He put a couple of the little stones in his pocket with the intention
of examining them when he got back to Rock Castle.

It was with a good deal of vexation that Mr. Wolston turned his back on
the south-western horizon. But the sun was getting low, and it would
not have done to be belated so far from the encampment. So the canoe
took to the stream once more, and, driven along by the paddles, made
good speed down the river.

At six o'clock the whole party was gathered together again at the
foot of the clump of evergreen oaks. M. Zermatt and Jack were well
satisfied with their sport, and had brought back an antelope, a brace
of rabbits, an agouti, and several birds of various kinds.

The little tributary of the Montrose watered a very fertile tract
of country, sometimes crossing plains which were admirably suitable
for raising grain, sometimes running through dense woods. There were
also game districts where the sound of the sportsman's gun had almost
certainly just been heard for the first time.

A good dinner was waiting for the men after their excursion. It was
served under the shadow of the trees, on the bank of the stream, whose
running waters murmured over their sandy bed, sprinkled with aquatic
plants.

At nine o'clock all went to their berths aboard the _Elizabeth_ to
sleep well and soundly.

It had been settled that the pinnace should make a start at the
beginning of the ebb, that is to say about one o'clock in the morning,
so as to get the full advantage of the tide running out. Thus the time
for sleep was limited. But this could be made up for the following
night, either at Unicorn Bay, if they were in there, or at Rock Castle
if the _Elizabeth_ arrived there within the twenty-four hours.

In spite of the remonstrances of his sons and of Mr. Wolston, M.
Zermatt had decided to remain on deck, undertaking to awaken them at
the time arranged. It was necessary never wholly to relax caution.
At night wild beasts, unseen by day, leave their lairs, drawn to the
water-courses by thirst.

At one o'clock M. Zermatt called Mr. Wolston, Ernest, and Jack. The
first rippling of the ebb was just becoming audible. A light breeze
blew off the land. The sails were hoisted, hauled aboard, and gathered,
and the pinnace yielded to the two-fold action of the stream and wind.

The night was very clear, the sky strewn with stars like snowflakes
hung in space. The moon, almost full, was sinking slowly down towards
the northern horizon.

Nothing occurred to disturb this night voyage, although some
hippopotami were heard grunting, when half the journey was done. It
will be remembered from Fritz's narrative of his trip on the Eastern
River, that these amphibian monsters were already known to be in
occupation of the water-courses of the island.

As the weather was splendid and the sea calm, it was agreed that the
pinnace should make use at once of the morning breeze which was just
rising out at sea. M. Zermatt was glad to think that they might get
back to Rock Castle in about fifteen hours, that is to say before
nightfall.

In order to take the shortest route and make Cape East in a straight
line, the _Elizabeth_ was sailed a mile or more away out to sea. Her
passengers were then able to get a more complete view of the coast for
fully fifteen miles in a southerly direction.

M. Zermatt ordered the sheets to be hauled in, so as to work to
windward, and the pinnace shaped her course for Cape East on the
starboard tack.

Just at this moment Mr. Wolston, who was standing in the bows, raised
his spyglass to his eyes. He wiped its glass and scrutinised one of
the points of the coast with extreme attention.

Several times in succession he raised and then lowered the instrument,
and everyone was struck by the interest with which he scanned the
horizon to the south-east.

M. Zermatt handed over the tiller to Jack, and came forward with the
intention of questioning Mr. Wolston, who removed the telescope from
his eye and said:

"No; I am mistaken."

"What are you mistaken about, Wolston?" M. Zermatt enquired. "What did
you think you saw over there?"

"Smoke."

"Smoke?" echoed Ernest, who had come up, disturbed by the reply.

For the smoke could only come from some camp pitched on that part of
the shore. And that theory involved some disturbing questions. Was the
island inhabited by savages? Had they come from the Australian shore
in their canoes and landed, and would they attempt to penetrate into
the interior? The inhabitants of Rock Castle would be in considerable
danger if such people ever set foot within the Promised Land.

"Where did you see the smoke?" M. Zermatt asked sharply.

"There--above the last point that projects from the shore on this side."

And Mr. Wolston pointed to the extreme end of the land, twelve miles
or so away, which beyond that point turned off to the south-west and
was lost to sight.

M. Zermatt and Ernest, one after the other, examined the indicated spot
with the utmost care.

"Nothing at all," Ernest added.

Mr. Wolston watched for a few minutes more with the closest attention.

"No; I cannot distinguish the smoke now," he said. "It must have been
some light greyish vapour--a little cloud lying very low, perhaps,
which has just melted away."

The answer was reassuring. Yet as long as the point was within sight M.
Zermatt and his companions never took their eyes off it. But they saw
nothing which could cause them any uneasiness.

The _Elizabeth_, under full sail, was moving rapidly over a rather
choppy sea, which did not check her way. At one o'clock in the
afternoon she was off Unicorn Bay, which was left a couple of miles to
larboard; then, approaching nearer to the coast, she made in a straight
line towards Cape East.

The cape was rounded at four o'clock and as the flood tide was setting
to the west of Deliverance Bay, an hour would suffice to cover that
distance. Rounding Shark's Island, the _Elizabeth_ made at full speed
towards Jackal River, and thirty-five minutes later her passengers set
foot on the beach at Rock Castle.




                              CHAPTER XI

                        IN THE SEASON OF RAINS


Four days and a half had been the length of its inhabitants' absence
from Rock Castle. It might have been as long again without the domestic
animals suffering thereby, as their sheds had been provisioned for
a long period. Mr. Wolston would then have had time to carry his
exploration to the foot of the range, to which he was comparatively
close when at the dam across the river. Very probably too, he would
have suggested to M. Zermatt that they should stay three or four days
longer at the anchorage up the Montrose, if there had been no obstacle
in the way of the canoe going up the course of the river.

But the voyage of exploration had not been without results. The pinnace
had been able to reconnoitre the eastern coast for a distance of some
twenty-five miles from Cape East. This, with the addition of an equal
extent of littoral visited in the north as far as Pearl Bay, was the
sum of what was known of the contour of the island. With respect to
its perimeter on the west and south, the aspect it presented and the
districts it bounded, whether barren or fertile, the two families could
have no certain knowledge without making a voyage all round the island,
unless indeed the ascent of the mountains should enable a view to be
obtained of the whole of New Switzerland.

There was, of course, the probability that the _Unicorn_ had made a
survey of its dimensions and its shape when she resumed her voyage. And
so, in the event of the expedition planned by Mr. Wolston not resulting
in a complete discovery of the island, they would only have to wait for
the return of the English corvette to know all about it.

Meantime, and for the next seven or eight weeks, every hour would be
fully occupied with the work of haymaking and harvesting, threshing,
grapegathering, and getting in the crops. No one would be able to take
a single day off if they were to get all the farms in order before the
broken weather, which constituted the winter in this latitude of the
southern hemisphere.

So every one set to work, and, as a beginning, the two families moved
to Falconhurst. By this removal they put themselves within easy reach
of Wood Grange, Sugar-cane Grove, and Prospect Hill. The summer
dwelling was lacking in neither space nor comfort, for new rooms had
been built among the gigantic roots of the mangrove, and there was
also, of course, the upper storey in the air which the surrounding
foliage rendered so delightful. At the foot of the tree a large yard
was provided for the animals, with sheds and out-houses, surrounded by
an impenetrable hedge of bamboo and thorny shrubs.

It is unnecessary to describe in detail all the work which was
undertaken and successfully accomplished during these two months. They
had to go from one farm to another, store all the grain and fodder
in the barns, gather all the ripe fruit and make all arrangements to
protect the birds in the poultry-yards from the inclemency of the rainy
season.

Thanks to the irrigation from Swan Lake, which was abundantly supplied
by the canal, the yield of the farms had increased appreciably. This
district of the Promised Land could have provided a hundred colonists
with a safe living, and its present inhabitants had plenty of work to
get in all the harvest.

In anticipation of the stormy weather, which would last for eight or
nine weeks, they also had to safeguard the farmsteads, against damage
by wind or rain. The gates and fences of the yards and fields, and
the doors and windows of the buildings were tightly closed, caulked,
and shored up. The roofs were weighted with heavy logs, to resist the
fierce easterly squalls. Like precautions were taken in the case of the
out-houses, barns, sheds, and fowl-houses, whose occupants, two-legged
and four-legged, were too numerous to be brought into the outbuildings
at Rock Castle. Moreover, the various buildings on Whale Island and
Shark's Island were put into condition to withstand the tremendous
gales to which they were directly exposed by their situation near the
shore.

On Whale Island the resinous trees, the evergreen sea-pines, now formed
thick woods. The nursery plantations of cocoa-trees and other species
had thriven, since they had been protected by thorn hedges. There
had been no risk of damage since then from the hundreds of rabbits
which in the early days used to devour all the shoots. These voracious
rodents found plenty of food among the seawrack. Jenny would certainly
find the island, of which M. Zermatt had given her the sole possession,
in perfect condition.

In the case of Shark's Island again, the plantations of cocoa-trees,
mangroves, and pines had prospered greatly. The enclosures for the
antelopes that were being tamed had to be strengthened. Of grass and
leaves, which form the food of these ruminants, there would be no lack
during the winter. Fresh water, thanks to the inexhaustible spring
discovered at the far end of the island, would not run short. M.
Zermatt had built a central shed of stout planks in which provisions of
every kind were stored. Finally, the battery erected on the flat top of
the little hill was covered in with a solid roof and protected by the
trees over which the flagstaff rose.

On the occasion of this visit, in accordance with the custom at the
beginning as at the end of the rainy season, Ernest and Jack fired the
regulation two guns. This time no answering report was heard from the
open sea, such as had happened six months before after the arrival of
the English corvette.

When the two guns had been reloaded and primed, Jack exclaimed:

"Now it will be our turn to answer the _Unicorn_, when she salutes New
Switzerland, and think of the delight with which we shall send her our
answer!"

It was not long before the last crops were got into the barns and
storerooms of Rock Castle; wheat, barley, rye, rice, maize, oats,
millet, tapioca, sago, and sweet potatoes. Peas, kidney beans,
broad beans, carrots, turnips, leeks, lettuce, and endive would be
supplied in abundance from the kitchen garden, which had been rendered
extraordinarily productive by proper attention to the rotation of the
crops. Fields of sugar-cane and orchards of fruit trees were within a
stone's throw of the dwelling-place, on both banks of the stream. The
gathering of the grapes in the vineyard at Falconhurst was finished
in due time, and for the making of mead there was no lack of honey,
or of the spices and rye-cakes required to assist its process of
fermentation. There was also plenty of palm wine, not to mention the
reserve store of Canary. Of the brandy left by Lieutenant Littlestone
there were several kegs in the cool basement of the rocky cave. Fuel
for the kitchen stove was provided by dry wood piled in the woodsheds,
and further, the gales might be relied upon to strew the beaches
outside Rock Castle with branches, while the flood tides drove more
onto the shore of Deliverance Bay. Moreover, there was no need to
use this fuel to warm the hall and rooms. In the tropics, below the
nineteenth parallel, the cold is never distressing. Fires were only
needed for cooking, washing, and other housework.

The second fortnight of May arrived, and it was time for all this
work to be finished. There was no mistaking the signs that heralded
the approach of the bad weather. Each sunset the sky was covered with
mists, which grew denser day by day. The wind gradually settled in the
east, and when it blew from that quarter all the storms at sea swept
madly upon the island.

Before withdrawing into Rock Castle M. Zermatt determined to spend the
whole day of the 24th on a trip to the hermitage at Eberfurt, and Mr.
Wolston and Jack were to go with him.

It was desirable to make sure that the defile of Cluse was effectively
closed against the invasion of wild beasts. It was of the utmost
importance to prevent their breaking through and causing wholesale
destruction of the plantations.

This farmstead, the most remote one, was seven or eight miles from Rock
Castle.

The party, mounted on the buffalo, the onager, and the ostrich, arrived
at the hermitage in less than two hours. The enclosures were found to
be in a good state of repair, but it was deemed prudent to strengthen
the entrance with a few stout cross-bars. An invasion of carnivorous
animals or pachyderms was not to be feared so long as they could not
make their way through the defile.

No suspicious marks or tracks were detected, much to Jack's
disappointment. That keen sportsman was always promising himself that
he would capture at least a young elephant. After he had tamed and
domesticated it he would certainly break it in for his own riding.

At last, on the 25th, when the first rains began to fall upon the
island, the two families finally left Falconhurst and settled down in
Rock Castle.

No country could have offered a more secluded abode, sheltered from
all inclemency of weather, or one more delightfully arranged. Endless
had been the improvements since the day when Jack's pickaxe had "gone
through the mountain"! The salt cavern had become a comfortable
dwelling-place. In the forefront of the rocky mass there was still
the same arrangement of rooms _en suite_, with doors and windows cut
through. The library, so dear to Ernest's heart, with two bays open
to the east on the Jackal River side, was surmounted by a graceful
pigeon-house. The vast saloon, with windows draped with green material
lightly coated with india-rubber, and furnished with the principal
articles, taken from the _Landlord_, still continued to serve as an
oratory, pending the time when Mr. Wolston should have built his chapel.

Above the rooms was a terrace, to which two pathways gave access, and
in front a verandah, with a sloping roof supported by fourteen bamboo
pillars. Along these pillars pepper plants twined their shoots, with
other shrubs which exhaled a pleasant scent of vanilla, mingled with
bindweeds and climbing plants now in their full verdure.

On the other side of the cave, following up the course of the river,
the private gardens of Rock Castle spread. They were surrounded by
thorn hedges, and were divided into square beds of vegetables, fancy
beds of flowers, and plantations of pistachios, almonds, walnuts,
oranges, lemons, bananas, guavas, and every other species of fruit
found in hot countries. The trees proper to the temperate climes of
Europe, such as cherries, pears, wild cherries and figs, were to be
found in the grand alley, which they lined the whole way to Falconhurst.

From the 25th onwards the rains never ceased. And with them burst
the lashing, hissing squalls which drove from the sea over the
table-lands of Cape East. All excursions out of doors were impossible
thenceforward, and only the various occupations of the household could
be carried on. But it was important work, the care and attention that
had to be given to the animals, to the buffaloes, onager, cows, calves,
and asses, and to the pets, like the monkey, Nip the Second; Jack's
jackal, and Jenny's jackal, and cormorant, these last being especially
pampered for her sake. Lastly, there was all the housework and
preserve-making to attend to, and sometimes, when, very occasionally,
the weather cleared for a short time, a little fishing could be got
at the mouth of Jackal River and at the foot of the rocks below Rock
Castle.

In the first week of June there was a vast increase in the gales and
rains. It was imprudent to go out, except in water-proof oilskins.

The entire neighbourhood, kitchen garden, plantations, and fields, was
swamped under these torrential downpours, and from the top of the cliff
above Rock Castle a thousand tiny streams broke away, making a noise
like so many cascades.

Although no one set foot outside the house unless it was absolutely
necessary, there was no dullness.

One evening M. Zermatt made the following calculation:

"Here we are at the 15th of June. The _Unicorn_ left us on the 20th of
October last year, so that is eight full months. Therefore she ought to
be on the point of leaving European waters for the Indian Ocean."

"What do you think, Ernest?" Mme. Zermatt asked.

"If you take her stay at the Cape into account," Ernest answered, "I
think the corvette might have reached an English port in three months.
It will take her the same time to come back, and as it was understood
that she was to be back in a year, that means that she will have had
to remain half a year in Europe. So my conclusion is that she is still
there."

"But probably on the eve of sailing," Hannah remarked.

"Most likely, Hannah dear," Ernest replied.

"After all," said Mrs. Wolston, "she might have cut her stay in England
short."

"She might have done so, certainly," Mr. Wolston answered, "although
six months would not be too long for all that she had to do. Our Lords
of the Admiralty are not remarkably expeditious."

"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 the _Unicorn_?"

"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 the _Landlord_; 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 the _Landlord_ and
the _Dorcas_ had 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:

"The _Unicorn_! It can only be the _Unicorn_!"

For a few moments a stupefied silence reigned. The _Unicorn_ off 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 the _Unicorn_.

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 the
_Landlord_ had 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 the _Landlord's_ reef 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
Tonans_ is 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.




                              CHAPTER XII

                            THE NEW VENTURE


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 the
_Unicorn_."

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.

[Illustration: 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 the _Landlord_, that we gave this cape its
fitting name of False Hope Point. If the _Unicorn_ should 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. The _Unicorn_ is 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 the
_Unicorn_, 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--the _Landlord's_ bell."

"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.




                             CHAPTER XIII

                          THE MOUNTAIN RANGE


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."

"We shall see, we shall see!" Jack replied.

They made their breakfast of cold venison, carefully saving all that
was left, for there would certainly be no game at all upon these barren
slopes, which Fawn did not like at all. Outside the cave they slung
their guns over their shoulders, for there were no wild animals to be
afraid of now. Then, with Jack in front, Ernest following, and Mr.
Wolston bringing up the rear, the three began the ascent of the lower
slopes.

Ernest computed the height of the range to be eleven or twelve hundred
feet. One peak, which rose up almost in front of the pinewood, towered
six hundred feet above the ridge line. It was at the summit of this
peak that Mr. Wolston desired to plant a flag.

About a hundred yards from the cave the forest belt came to an abrupt
end. A few patches of verdure were still to be seen above, grass land
with clumps of dwarf trees, aloes, mastics, myrtles, and heaths,
attaining a height of six or seven hundred feet, and representing the
second belt. But the acclivity was so steep that in some places it
exceeded fifty degrees, and they had to tack on the way up.

A circumstance favourable to the ascent was that the mountain side
provided a firm foot-hold. There was no reason yet to hold on by the
finger nails or have recourse to crawling. The foot got a firm hold on
the verdure, broken by roots and jutting points of rock.

So the ascent could be effected without check, zigzagging so as to
reduce the angle of inclination, although it would involve fatigue.
Before the summit was reached the climbers would be obliged to halt
at least once or twice to get their wind. Ernest and Jack, young and
vigorous, in constant training and inured to all physical exercise,
might not feel over-fatigued, but Mr. Wolston, at his age, could not
afford a like expenditure of strength. But he would be quite satisfied
if he and his companions were encamped at the foot of the peak before
lunch time; it would only take them an hour or two after that to gain
the extreme top.

Over and over again Jack was entreated not to imagine himself a
chamois. They continued to mount, and, for his part, Mr. Wolston was
determined not to cry halt till he had reached the foot of the peak,
where the second belt of the range came to an end. That the most
difficult part of the task would then be accomplished was not certain.
For if, at that height, the eye could see towards the north and west
and east, it certainly would not be able to see anything of the
country which lay to the south. To do that they must reach the extreme
summit. The country towards the Green Valley was known, between the
mouth of the Montrose and the promontory of Pearl Bay. So their most
natural and legitimate curiosity would not be satisfied until they
had climbed to the top of the peak, or, should the ascent of it prove
impracticable, until they had succeeded in working round it.

At last, when the second belt had been crossed, a halt at its extremity
became imperative. Rest was necessary after such expenditure of energy.
It was noon, and, after luncheon, the ascent of the longest incline of
the peak could be begun again. Their stomachs were fairly clamouring
for food. Physical effort of such a kind is apt to interfere with the
digestion. But the urgency was now to fill their stomachs, without
troubling to find out beforehand if they would or would not digest
easily a meal whose sole solid dish consisted of the last scraps of the
antelope.

An hour later Jack sprang to his feet again, leaped onto the first
rocks at the foot of the slope, disregarding Mr. Wolston's warnings,
and called out:

"Let him who loves me follow me!"

"Well, let us try to give him that proof of our affection, my dear
Ernest," was Mr. Wolston's reply, "and above all, let us try to prevent
him from making a fool of himself!"




                              CHAPTER XIV

                           JEAN ZERMATT PEAK


This peak was merely a prodigious pile of rocks, thrown together
anyhow. Nevertheless there were ledges and projections on its face on
which the foot could find a firm support. Still retaining the lead,
Jack tested these and felt his way, and, following him cautiously, Mr.
Wolston and Ernest gradually made their way up.

The surface of this third belt of the mountain was barren and desolate.
There was practically no vegetation upon it.

Sometimes the surface was as smooth as glass, and a fall would have
ended only at the bottom of the peak. Care had to be taken, too, not
to displace any of the masses of rock, and so, perhaps, set moving an
avalanche which would have rolled right down to the foot of the range.

Granite and limestone were the constituents of this mighty framework of
the mountain. There was nothing to indicate a volcanic origin.

The three adventurers got halfway up the peak without mishap. But they
could not entirely avoid starting some landslips.

Three or four huge rocks bounded furiously down the steeps to plunge
into the depths of the forest below with a roar like thunder, repeated
by the many echoes of the mountain.

At this altitude a few birds were still to be seen hovering about, sole
representatives of animal life in this third belt, where, however, they
did not seek to light. A few pairs of powerful birds of enormous spread
of wing, leisurely flapping through the air, occasionally passed over
the summit of the peak. Jack was greatly tempted to fire at them, and
it would have been a great delight to him to have shot one of these
vultures or gigantic condors.

More than once the young sportsman made a movement to raise his gun to
his shoulder.

"What for?" Mr. Wolston called out.

"What? What for?" Jack answered. "Why, to----"

And then, without finishing his sentence, he would sling his gun behind
him again, and spring forward over the rocks.

Now the upper crest of the slope became even steeper--a regular
sugar-loaf. Mr. Wolston began to wonder whether there would be room for
three people on the summit. It now became necessary for the traveller
ahead to help the next. Jack pulled Ernest up; then Ernest pulled Mr.
Wolston up. They had tried in vain to work round the base of the peak.
It was only on the north side that the ascent presented difficulties
that were not insuperable.

At last, about two o'clock in the afternoon, Jack's ringing voice was
heard--the first, no doubt, that had ever resounded from this pinnacle.

"An island! It really is an island!"

A final effort by Mr. Wolston and Ernest brought them to the summit.
There, on a narrow space not much more than twelve feet square
exhausted, almost incapable of speaking, they lay down flat to recover
breath.

Although the sea surrounded New Switzerland on all sides, it did so
at unequal distances from the mountain. Widely displayed towards the
south, much more restricted towards the east and west, and reduced to a
mere bluish rim up in the north, the sea lay glittering under the rays
of the sun, now a few degrees below its highest point of altitude.

It was now evident that the range did not occupy the central portion
of the island. On the contrary, it rose in the south and followed an
almost regular curve, drawn from east to west.

From this point, fifteen hundred feet above sea level, the range of
vision was about forty or forty-five miles to the horizon. But New
Switzerland did not extend in any direction as far as that.

"I calculate that our island must be a hundred and fifty to a hundred
and seventy miles in circumference. That represents a considerable
area, larger than the canton of Lucerne," said Ernest.

"What would its extent be, approximately?" Mr. Wolston asked.

"As far as I can estimate it, taking the configuration, which is a
kind of oval drawn from east to west, into account, it might measure a
thousand square miles," Ernest replied; "say half the size of Sicily."

"There are a good many famous islands that aren't so big," said Jack.

"Very true," Ernest answered; "and one of them, if my memory serves me,
is one of the principal islands in the Mediterranean; it is of supreme
importance to England, but it is only twenty-two miles long by ten
miles broad."

"What is that?"

"Malta."

"Malta?" Mr. Wolston exclaimed, all his patriotism inflamed by the
name. "Well, why should not New Switzerland become the Malta of the
Indian Ocean?"

To which Jack replied in an aside with the very natural remark that
old Switzerland would have done well to keep it for herself, and to
establish a Swiss colony there.

The sky was clear, without the faintest haze in the atmosphere. There
was not a trace of dampness in the air, and the land stood out in clear
relief.

As the descent of the mountain would only take about a third of the
time required for the ascent, Mr. Wolston and the two brothers had
several hours at their disposal before the time came for them to get
back to the pine wood. So they passed the telescope round from hand to
hand, and took a careful survey of the vast country which lay spread
out below them.

Ernest, with notebook and pencil, traced the outlines of this oval,
through which the nineteenth parallel of the Southern Hemisphere ran
for about fifty-five miles, and the hundred and fourteenth meridian
east for about forty-seven.

In a northerly direction, at a distance of something like twenty-five
miles as the crow flies, a good deal could be distinguished.

Beyond the coast line, a narrow edging of sea washed the portion
comprised between False Hope Point and the promontory which enclosed
Pearl Bay to the westward.

"It's unmistakable," said Jack; "I need no telescope to recognise the
Promised Land and the coast as far as Deliverance Bay."

"Quite so," Mr. Wolston agreed; "and at the far end of that opposite
angle is Cape East, shutting in Unicorn Bay."

"Unfortunately," Jack went on, "even with this splendid telescope of
Ernest's, we can't see any of the country near Jackal River."

"That is because it is hidden by the wall of rocks which bounds it on
the south," Ernest replied. "You cannot see the summit of the range
from Rock Castle or Falconhurst, and so you cannot see Rock Castle or
Falconhurst from the summit of the range. That's logic, I suppose."

"Logic, indeed, most wise philosopher!" Jack answered. "But that ought
to be equally true of False Hope Point, and yet there it is, that cape
running out to the north, and since we can see it----"

"Although it may be true that you can see this peak from False Hope
Point, and even from Prospect Hill," Ernest replied, "the first
condition for seeing anything is that you should look for it. The
probability is that we have never looked carefully enough."

"The general conclusion," Mr. Wolston added, "is that the range,
properly speaking, can only be seen from above the Green Valley."

"That is the position, sir," said Ernest, "and it is those heights that
hide Rock Castle from us now."

"I am sorry," Jack went on, "for I am sure we could have made out all
our people. If it had occurred to them to go to Prospect Hill, I wager
that we should have been able to recognise them--with the telescope, of
course. For they are over there, talking about us, counting the hours,
and saying: 'They would have got to the foot of the mountain yesterday,
and to-day they will be at the top.' And they are wondering how big New
Switzerland is, and if it makes a good show in the Indian Ocean."

"Well said, my boy!" laughed Mr. Wolston. "I fancy I hear them."

"And I fancy I see them," Jack declared. "Never mind! I am still sorry
that the rocks hide Jackal River from us, and our house at Rock Castle
too."

"No good being sorry," Ernest remarked, "when you've got to put up with
it."

"It is the fault of this peak," Jack complained. "Why isn't it higher?
If it rose a few hundred feet higher into the air, our people would see
us from over there. They would signal to us. They would hoist a flag on
the pigeon-house at Rock Castle. We would wag them good morning with
ours----"

"Jack's off again!" said Mr. Wolston.

"And I am sure that Ernest would see Hannah!"

"I see her all the time."

"Of course; even without a glass," Jack answered quickly. "Ah! the eyes
of the heart are long-sighted!"

All that remained was for the explorers to make an accurate survey of
the island, noting its general outline and its geologic formation.

On the east, to the rear of Unicorn Bay, the coast showed like a
rocky frame enclosing the whole of the desert region which had been
previously explored, when the pinnace made her first voyage. Then the
cliffs grew lower, and the coast line rose towards the mouth of the
Montrose River, where it formed a sharp point to bend back towards the
spot where the range rose in the south-east.

Glimpses could be caught of the Montrose, winding like a gleaming
thread. The lower reaches of the river ran through a wooded and
verdant region; the upper reaches through a barren waste. It was fed
by numerous streams from the high levels of the pine wood, and made
numerous twists and turns. Beyond the dense forests between the groves
and clumps of trees lay a succession of plains and grass lands right to
the western extremity of the island, where rose a high hill, marking
the other end of the range, twelve or fifteen miles away.

In outline the island was almost exactly the shape of the leaf of a
tree.

In the west numerous water-courses gleamed in the sun's rays. To the
north and east were only the Montrose and Eastern Rivers.

To sum up, then, New Switzerland, at any rate the five-sixths of
it which lay to the north of the range, was a land of wonderful
fertility, quite capable of supporting several thousand inhabitants.

As to its situation in the Indian Ocean, it was clear that it belonged
to no group of islands. The telescope discovered no sign of land
anywhere on the horizon. The nearest coast was seven hundred and fifty
miles away, the coast of Australia, or New Holland, as it was called in
those days.

But although the island had no satellites lying round its coast, one
rocky point rose up from the sea some ten miles to the west of Pearl
Bay. Jack levelled his glass upon it.

"The Burning Rock--which isn't burning!" he exclaimed. "And I guarantee
that Fritz would not have required any telescope to recognise it!"

Thus New Switzerland, as a whole, was well adapted for the
establishment of an important colony. But what the north and east and
west had to offer must not be looked for in the south.

Bent round in the form of a bow, the two extremities of the range
rested on the coast line, at almost equal distance from the base of the
peak which rose in its centre. The portion enclosed within this arc was
bounded by a long succession of cliffs, which appeared to be almost
perpendicular.

The contrast between the sixth portion of the island and the other
five, so generously favoured by nature, was great. The utter desolation
of a desert, all the horror of chaos, reigned there. The upper belt of
the range extended right to the end of the island, and seemed to be
impassable. It was possible, however, that it was connected with the
coast line to the south by ravines, gorges, and gullies worn through
the steep slopes. The actual shore, sand or rock, where it might be
possible to land, was probably a mere narrow strip only uncovered at
low tide.

The three were all affected by the melancholy which seemed to be
exhaled from this depressing country, and remained silent while
their eyes travelled over it. It was Ernest who made the following
characteristic remark:

"If after the wreck of the _Landlord_ we had been cast upon this coast,
our tub boat would have been smashed and we should have had nothing but
death to look for--death from starvation!"

"You are quite right, my dear boy," Mr. Wolston answered; "on this
shore you could hardly have hoped for a chance. Of course, if you had
managed to land a few miles farther north you would have found fertile
land and the game country. But I am afraid this awful region has no
communication with the interior of the island, and I do not know if it
would have been possible to get there through the southern side of the
range."

"It isn't very likely," Jack put in, "but as we went round the coast
we should certainly have come upon the mouth of the Montrose and the
fertile part of the island."

"Yes," said Ernest, "provided our boat could have got up towards the
east or the west. But the south coast would not have offered us a bay
like Deliverance Bay, where we got ashore without any great trouble."

It most certainly was a happy chance that had cast the shipwrecked
survivors of the _Landlord_ upon the northern shore of New Switzerland.
But for that how could they possibly have escaped the most horrible of
deaths, at the foot of this enormous pile of rocks?

The three adventurers decided to remain on the summit of the peak until
four o'clock. They took all the bearings necessary to complete the map
of New Switzerland--except the southern portion, which must remain
incomplete for the present, since they could not see it all. But the
work would be completed when the _Unicorn_ returned and Lieutenant
Littlestone finished his survey of the island.

Ernest tore a leaf out of his pocket book and wrote the following lines:

"The 30th of September, 1917, at 4 p.m., from the summit of----"

There he broke off.

"What shall we call this peak?" he asked.

"Call it the Peak of Sorrow," Jack answered, "because we can't see Rock
Castle from it."

"No, call it Jean Zermatt, boys, in honour of your father," Mr. Wolston
suggested.

The suggestion was agreed to with delight. Jack pulled a cup out of his
game-bag. Mr. Wolston and Ernest followed suit. A few drops of brandy
from the flasks were poured into the cups and drunk with three cheers.

Then Ernest got on with his letter.

"----from the summit of Jean Zermatt Peak, we are sending to you, my
dear parents, to you, Mrs. Wolston, and to you, my dear Hannah, this
note entrusted to our faithful messenger who, more fortunate than we,
will soon be back at Rock Castle.

"Our New Switzerland, a solitary island in the Indian Ocean, is about a
hundred and fifty or a hundred and seventy miles in circumference. Most
of it is immensely fertile, but on the southern side of the range it is
barren and appears to be uninhabitable.

"In forty-eight hours, since the return journey will be easier, we may
possibly be back with you, and before the end of another three weeks,
God willing, we may hope to set eyes again upon our absent ones, for
whose return we are so impatient.

"All love to you, dear parents, to Mrs. Wolston, and my dear Hannah,
from Mr. Wolston, my brother Jack, and your affectionate son, Ernest."

The pigeon was taken from its little cage. Ernest tied the note to its
left foot and let it fly.

The bird rose thirty or forty feet above the summit of the peak, as
if to obtain the widest possible view. Then, guided by its marvellous
sense of direction, the sixth sense which all animals seem to possess,
it flew rapidly away towards the north and soon was out of sight.

All that now remained to be done was to hoist at the top of Jean
Zermatt Peak the flag, for which Mr. Wolston's long stick, driven into
the ground between the topmost rocks, was to serve as a flagstaff.

When this was accomplished they would only have to make their way down
to the foot of the range, get to the cave, fortify themselves with a
substantial meal, for which their guns would provide materials, and
then enjoy the rest they had earned by such a tiring day.

The start for home would be made at dawn next day. By following the
route already discovered, it was not impossible that they might reach
Rock Castle in less than forty-eight hours.

So Mr. Wolston and Jack set to work to plant the stick deeply and
firmly enough to withstand the winds, which would sure to be violent at
so great an altitude.

"The essential thing," Jack remarked, "is that this flag of ours should
be flying when the _Unicorn_ arrives, so that Lieutenant Littlestone
may see it directly the corvette gets in sight of the island. That will
stir the hearts of Fritz and Jenny and Frank and your children, Mr.
Wolston, and our hearts, too, when we hear the twenty-one guns saluting
the flag of New Switzerland!"

It was quite easy to wedge the staff between the rocks and pack it in
with little stones.

Just as he was going to fasten the flag to the staff, Mr. Wolston,
who was facing eastwards, looked in that direction. He did with such
intensity that Jack asked:

"What is the matter, Mr. Wolston?"

"I again thought that I saw----" he answered. And again he raised the
telescope to his eye.

"Saw what?" Ernest pressed him.

"Smoke rising from the shore," Mr. Wolston answered, "unless it is a
cloud like I saw before, when the pinnace was off the mouth of the
Montrose River."

"Well," said Ernest, "is it passing away?"

"No," said Mr. Wolston; "and it must be at the same spot--at the far
end of the range. Can there have been any shipwrecked men, or any
savages, camped on that part of the coast for the past few weeks?"

Ernest looked carefully at the indicated spot, taking the glass in his
turn, but he could see nothing in that direction.

"Why, Mr. Wolston, that is not where we need look; it's over here, to
the south----" And Jack stretched his hand towards the sea beyond the
huge cliffs that towered over the shore.

"It's a sail!" Ernest exclaimed.

"Yes, a sail!" Jack repeated.

"There is a ship in sight of the island," Ernest went on, "and she
seems to be steering for it."

Mr. Wolston took the telescope and distinctly saw a three-masted vessel
moving under full sail six or seven miles out at sea.

Jack shouted, gesticulating wildly.

"It is the _Unicorn_! It can only be the _Unicorn_! She was not due
until the middle of October, and here she is at the end of September, a
fortnight before her time."

"There is nothing impossible in that," Mr. Wolston replied. "But,
nevertheless, before we can be positive we must make quite sure which
direction she is going in."

"She is making for New Switzerland," Jack declared. "To-morrow morning
she will appear to the west of Deliverance Bay, and we shall be there
to greet her! Let us be off, Mr. Wolston; let us travel all night!"

Jack, who was just getting ready to slide down the side of the peak,
was checked by a final word from Ernest.

"No," he said, "look carefully, Mr. Wolston. The ship is not steering
towards the island."

"That is so," said Mr. Wolston, after watching the movement of the
vessel for a few minutes.

"Then she is not the _Unicorn_?" Jack exclaimed.

"No," said Ernest positively.

"Besides," Mr. Wolston added, "the _Unicorn_ would come from the
north-west, and this ship is going towards the south-east and away from
the island."

There could be no mistake on this score; the three-master was
travelling east, without taking any notice of New Switzerland.

"All right!" said Jack. "But the _Unicorn_ will come soon, and at any
rate we shall be there to pay the regulation salute to the corvette of
His Majesty King George III!"

The flag was hoisted on the summit of Jean Zermatt Peak and blew out
into the breeze, while Jack did it the honours with two shots from his
gun.




                              CHAPTER XV

                        JACK AND THE ELEPHANTS


In the evening of that same day M. Zermatt and his wife, Mrs. Wolston
and her daughter, were all sitting together in the library after a good
day's work.

Of what should they have talked if not of those who had now been away
for three days? They felt confident of a happy issue to the expedition
into the interior of the island. The weather had been very favourable
for it.

"Where ought Mr. Wolston and the boys to be at this moment?" Mme.
Zermatt enquired.

"I think they must have reached the summit of the range," M. Zermatt
replied. "If nothing occurred to delay them, three days will have
sufficed to bring them to its foot, and the fourth would be spent in
making the ascent."

"At the cost of much fatigue, and much danger, too, perhaps," said
Hannah.

"Not danger, my dear child," M. Zermatt replied. "As for the fatigue,
your father is still in the prime of life, and my boys have endured
plenty before now."

"Ernest has not all his brothers' endurance," Hannah rejoined.

"Not quite," Mme. Zermatt answered; "and he has always preferred study
to physical exercise."

"Come, Betsy," said M. Zermatt, "you must not make out that your son is
a weakling! If he has worked with his brains, he has worked quite as
hard with his body. My belief is that this expedition will have been no
more than a walking tour. If I had not been afraid to leave you three
alone at Rock Castle, my dear, I should, in spite of my forty-seven
years, have gone on this voyage of discovery."

"Let us wait till to-morrow," said Mrs. Wolston. "Perhaps the pigeon
that Ernest took with him will come back in the morning and bring us a
letter."

"Why not this evening?" Hannah broke in. "The pigeon could find its
loft quite well at night; couldn't it, M. Zermatt?"

"Without a doubt, Hannah. The speed of those birds is so great--thirty
miles an hour, some people say--that it could travel the distance from
the mountains here in forty or fifty minutes!"

"Suppose I watch until daylight to see if it comes back?" the girl
suggested.

"Ah!" exclaimed Mme. Zermatt. "The dear child is dreadfully anxious to
have news of her father."

"And of Jack and Ernest too, Mme. Zermatt," Hannah added, kissing her.

"It is a pity that the range is not visible from the top of Rock
Castle," Mrs. Wolston remarked. "Perhaps with a telescope we might have
discovered whether the flag is flying at the summit of the peak."

"It is a pity, Mrs. Wolston," M. Zermatt agreed. "That is why, if the
pigeon does not return in the course of to-morrow morning, I intend to
saddle Lightfoot and go as far as the hermitage at Eberfurt, whence one
can see the range."

"An excellent idea," said Mme. Zermatt, "but don't let us begin to make
plans prematurely, dear, and since it is now time, let us go to dinner.
Why, perhaps the pigeon may come back this evening, before we go to
bed, and bring us a little word from Ernest!"

"Well," M. Zermatt answered, "it will not be the first time we shall
have corresponded that way. Do you remember, Betsy, a long time ago,
when the boys sent us news from Wood Grange and Prospect Hill and
Sugar-cane Grove? It was bad news, it is true--of the harm those
wretched monkeys and other destructive creatures had done; but it was
by pigeon post that we got it. I hope the messenger will bring us
better news this time."

"Here it is!" exclaimed Hannah, springing up and rushing to the window.

"Did you see it?" her mother asked.

"No, but I heard it go into the pigeon-house," the girl answered.

Her ear had caught the sound of the little trap-door shutting at the
bottom of the pigeon-house above the library.

M. Zermatt hurried out, followed by the three ladies. At the foot of
the pigeon-house he placed a ladder against the wall of rock, ran up it
quickly, and looked inside.

"It has indeed come back!" he said.

"Oh, catch it, catch it, M. Zermatt!" Hannah exclaimed, all impatience.

When she had the pigeon in her hands she kissed its little bluish head,
and she kissed it again after she had unfastened the note from its
foot. Then the bird was released and went back into its loft, where a
handful of grain was lying ready for it.

Hannah read out Ernest's letter. The few lines it contained were
satisfactory, announcing the complete success of the expedition. They
held a word of affection for every one, and Hannah had her share.

Full of the glad thought that the return would be made in the next
forty-eight hours, they all went to their rooms. The message had come;
the news was good! They gave thanks to God, and slept peacefully until
the sun rose.

This next day was fully employed with household tasks. There was an
important piece of work on hand, which could not have been postponed. A
number of salmon had entered the mouth of Jackal River, up whose course
these fish ascended every year at this season. The help of the absent
three was greatly missed. Because of their absence, the fishing was not
nearly so productive as it might have been.

During the afternoon all four left their work, crossed Family Bridge,
and took the road towards the hermitage of Eberfurt. Mr. Wolston,
Ernest, and Jack ought to have reached the defile of Cluse, and it
would only take them a couple of hours at most to cover the distance
from the farm to Rock Castle.

But the day wore on, and there was no sign of their coming, no barking
of the dogs that would certainly have scented their masters, no sound
of the gun which Jack would not have failed to fire to announce his
return.

At six o'clock dinner was ready. It was kept back for the explorers,
and, as they did not come, no one cared to sit down to table.

M. and Mme. Zermatt, Mrs. Wolston and Hannah, took a final walk half a
mile or more along the road above Jackal River. Turk and Brownie went
with them, but remained quiet and dumb, although they would certainly
have been noisy and frantic enough if the two brothers had been
anywhere near!

The four returned to Rock Castle, not quite easy in mind, but telling
one another that the delay could not last much longer. They sat down
to table in anxious mood, with ears alert for every sound outside, and
none of them had any appetite.

"Come, come, we must be reasonable," M. Zermatt said at length. "If it
took three days to get to the foot of the mountain, why should it not
take three days to get back?"

"Quite right, M. Zermatt," Hannah answered, "but does not Ernest's
letter suggest that forty-eight hours would be enough?"

"I quite agree, my child," Mme. Zermatt added. "But the dear boy is so
anxious to see us again that he has promised more than he can perform."

There was no actual reason for serious worry as yet. But that night
none of the inmates of Rock Castle enjoyed the same quiet sleep that
they had known the night before.

But what, after all, was only anxiety, became trouble and even agony
next day, the 3rd of October, when evening fell. The explorers had not
put in an appearance. Such a long delay was inexplicable where such
strong and tireless walkers were concerned. Some accident must have
befallen them. They ought not to have met with any more difficulties
when returning than they had met with when going, and they knew the
road. Could it mean that they had decided to take another road--a more
difficult, a longer one?

"No," said Hannah. "If they had been obliged to take another road,
Ernest would not have said that they would be here in forty-eight
hours."

An answer to that was difficult to find. Betsy and Mrs. Wolston began
to lose hope. Hannah could not restrain her tears, and M. Zermatt knew
not what to say to comfort her.

It was then agreed that if the missing party did not come back to Rock
Castle next day, all should go to the hermitage at Eberfurt, since they
could only come back by the defile of Cluse.

Evening came; night rolled on. There was no news at all. Nothing could
now keep at Rock Castle those who were awaiting them there, a prey to
mortal anxiety.

In the morning preparations were hurriedly made. The waggon was
harnessed, provisions were put into it, and all took their seats. The
cattle started, Brownie running ahead. After crossing Jackal River the
vehicle went along the woods and fields which bordered the road to
Eberfurt, travelling at its highest possible speed.

They had gone about two and a half miles and had reached the culvert
over the irrigation canal which ran into Swan Lake, when M. Zermatt
gave the signal to halt.

Brownie had rushed forward, barking faster and more furiously than ever.

"There they are! There they are!" cried Mrs. Wolston.

And, three hundred yards away, two men appeared, rounding a clump of
trees.

They were Mr. Wolston and Ernest.

Where was Jack? He could not be far away--a gunshot or two behind, no
doubt.

Mr. Wolston and Ernest were welcomed with shouts of joy. But as they
did not come on, everyone rushed towards them.

"Where is Jack?" Mme. Zermatt asked.

Neither Jack nor his dog Fawn was there.

"We don't know what has become of Jack," said Mr. Wolston, sadly.

And this is the story he told, a story often broken by the sobs of all
who heard it.

The descent from the summit of the peak to the foot of the range had
been made in two hours. Jack, the first to get down, shot some game on
the fringe of the pinewood. Supper was eaten in front of the cave, a
fire was left alight outside, and all three retired within. One kept
watch at the entrance while the other two slept soundly.

The night was disturbed only by the distant howling of wild beasts.

From the summit of the peak Ernest had noticed that the forest seemed
to be clearer towards the east, and, at his suggestion, the three
men went in that direction. It would mean quicker marching, and the
distance would only be lengthened by a couple of miles or so.

At eleven o'clock a halt was made. After luncheon the three came on
through the thinner forests, where it was easier walking.

About two o'clock they heard heavy trampling and a loud trumpeting
noise among the trees.

There could be no mistake whence this proceeded. A herd of elephants
was passing through the pinewood.

No, not a herd--only three appeared, two of enormous size, the parents,
and behind them a baby elephant.

It had always been Jack's most ardent wish to capture one of these
creatures and tame it. The adventurous lad determined to take advantage
of this opportunity.

Anticipating an attack, all three put themselves on the defensive, with
guns loaded and ready, feeling by no means confident about the issue of
a trial of strength with these formidable brutes.

When the elephants reached the end of the clearing, they stopped. Then,
catching sight of the three men, they swerved off to the left, without
hurrying, and plunged into the depths of the forest.

All danger was over, when Jack, carried away by his irresistible
desire, disappeared in the wake of the elephants, followed by his dog
Fawn.

"Jack! Jack!" cried Mr. Wolston.

"Come back, Jack! Come back!" cried Ernest.

The reckless young fellow either did not or would not hear.

One more glimpse of him was seen through the thicket. Then he vanished
from view.

Full of apprehension, Mr. Wolston and Ernest rushed after him, and in a
few minutes reached the clearing.

It was deserted.

Just at this moment the noise of trampling was heard again, close at
hand. But no report rang out.

So Jack either had not decided to use his gun yet, or had not been able
to.

It would be difficult, however, to overtake him, and it was impossible
to pick up his tracks here, where the ground was covered with dead
branches and dry leaves.

The tumult gradually died away in the distance. A few branches which
had been set a-swaying became still again, and once more the silence of
the forest was unbroken.

Mr. Wolston and Ernest beat the fringe of the clearing until evening,
wormed their way into the thickest brakes, and shouted to Jack.

Had the unhappy lad fallen a victim to his imprudence? Had he been
unable to avoid the elephants' charge? Was he lying motionless,
perhaps dead, in some corner of the dark forest?

No cry, no call, reached Mr. Wolston's or Ernest's ears. A few shots,
fired at intervals, remained unanswered.

At nightfall, both men, exhausted by fatigue and overwhelmed by
anxiety, sank at the foot of the tree, listening intently and trying to
catch the faintest sound. They lighted a large fire, hoping that Jack
might find his way by its light and join them again, and they did not
close their eyes until day.

Throughout these weary hours incessant howling betrayed the proximity
of wild beasts. They could not help dreading that if Jack had not been
driven to defend himself against the elephants, he still might have
fallen in a more dangerous attack by tigers, lions, or pumas.

But he could not be left to his fate. The whole of the following day
was spent in seeking his tracks through the pinewood.

It was labour wasted, Mr. Wolston and Ernest plainly saw the way the
elephants had passed, marked as it was by heavy footprints, trampled
grass, broken branches, and crushed undergrowth. But of Jack himself
there was not a sign; not even a sign that he had been wounded, not a
drop of blood, not a single mark which might have put them on his track.

There was nothing for it but to go back to Rock Castle, whence they
could start again on the search once more in better conditions.

The two traversed the portion of the pine forest which they had
crossed that same evening. They walked all night and all day, and in
the morning they arrived at the entrance to the defile of Cluse.

"My boy! My poor boy!" Mme. Zermatt murmured over and over again.

She fell into the arms of Mrs. Wolston and her daughter, who were on
their knees beside her.

M. Zermatt and Ernest, plunged in grief, could not utter a word.

"This is what we must do, without losing a minute," Mr. Wolston said at
last, resolutely.

M. Zermatt turned to him.

"What?" he asked.

"We are going back to Rock Castle, and we will start out from
there again this very day to find Jack's tracks. I have thought of
everything, my dear Zermatt, and I entreat you to do what I suggest.

"It was in the part of the forest near the sea-shore that Jack
disappeared," he went on. "So thither we must go first, and by the
shortest way. To return by the road beyond the defile of Cluse would
take too long. Let us go aboard the pinnace. The wind is in the right
quarter for rounding Cape East, and after that the breeze from the sea
will take us back along the coast. If we start this evening we shall
reach the mouth of the Montrose before daybreak. We will go on, and
we will put in where the range ends. It was in that direction Jack
disappeared as he went through the pine forest. By going there by sea
we shall gain two days."

The suggestion was agreed to without demur. There was no room for
hesitation if they wanted to take advantage of the wind which would
bring the _Elizabeth_ off Cape East in two or three tacks.

So both families got into the waggon again, and the team was driven
so fast that an hour and a half later they were at the gates of Rock
Castle.

Their first business was to get the pinnace ready to put to sea for a
voyage of several days' duration, in which Mme. Zermatt, Mrs. Wolston,
and Hannah were all to share.

In the afternoon, after food had been provided for the animals for
a week, the pinnace was about to start when it was prevented by an
unhappy mischance.

About three o'clock the wind, which had dropped, veered to the east,
and was soon blowing a full breeze. The _Elizabeth_ could have ventured
beyond Cape East, although the sea must be running very high outside.
But how was she to get so far as the cape against the violent surge
which was rolling in from the sea? It would have been extremely
difficult for her merely to leave her anchorage, and to get beyond
Shark's Island would have been impossible.

It was heart-breaking. To wait and wait, while the least delay might
mean the failure of the search! And if these adverse winds continued,
if in the course of the evening or the night the weather conditions did
not change, they would get even worse.

"Well," said Mr. Wolston, answering questions which rose in every mind,
"what we can't try by sea, we will try by land. The waggon instead of
the pinnace! Let us get it ready to go back to Eberfurt."

Preparations were at once made. If the journey was to be by waggon,
they would have to make for the south-east, in order to work round
the pine forest. The team could not have made their way through it,
at any rate, not through the portion which Mr. Wolston and Ernest had
explored. Thence they would try to reach the eastern extremity of the
forest, that is to say, the point where the _Elizabeth_ would put into
shore, if a change in the wind allowed her to lift anchor. It would
mean a delay of thirty-six hours, but that could not be helped.

Hopes for a change in the weather were disappointed. The wind blew
constantly from the north-east and got steadily stronger. By evening
huge waves were breaking on the beach at Rock Castle. The night
threatened to be a bad one, and, in face of these conditions, the plan
of the voyage had to be given up.

Mr. Wolston had all the provisions which had been put on board
transferred to the waggon. At the same time final attentions were given
to the two buffaloes and the onager, in view of a start at daybreak.

Mme. Zermatt was quite broken down, only opening her lips to murmur:

"My boy! Oh, my poor boy!"

Suddenly about eight o'clock, the two dogs, Turk and Brownie, began to
show signs of excitement. Mr. Wolston noticed how they ran in front of
the verandah across the yard. Brownie was especially restless.

Then distant barking was distinctly heard.

"It's Fawn!" cried Ernest.

Fawn--Jack's dog! Brownie and Turk recognised him too, for they
answered by barking more loudly than ever.

M. and Mme. Zermatt, with Mrs. Wolston and Hannah, rushed out of the
verandah.

Jack appeared at the gate and flung himself into his mother's arms.

"Yes, I'm all right!" he cried. "But there may be great danger before
us!"

"Danger? What danger?" M. Zermatt asked, hugging him.

"Savages," Jack answered; "savages who have landed on the island!"




                              CHAPTER XVI

                             TROUBLE AHEAD


The two families went back into the dining-room with hearts overflowing
with joy, in spite of the disquieting news brought by Jack. Their only
thought was that Jack was back again!

Yet could a more serious event have been imagined? Savages were on
the coast of New Switzerland! They knew now that the thin vapour seen
by Mr. Wolston when the pinnace left the mouth of the Montrose River,
and again when he was at the summit of the peak, was the smoke of an
encampment pitched on that part of the island.

Jack was faint for want of food. He took his seat at the table with
the others, and when he had recovered some of his strength he told the
story of his adventures as follows:

"Forgive me, all of you, for the grief and anxiety I have caused you. I
let my desire to capture a young elephant run away with me. I did not
listen to Mr. Wolston or Ernest when they were calling me back, and
it is only by a miracle that I have returned safe and sound! But my
recklessness will have this one good result at least--it will enable us
to organise a serious defence against these savages if they come as far
as the Promised Land.

"Well, I plunged into the very thick of the pine forest after those
elephants without any very clear idea, I must admit, of how I should
manage to get hold of the smallest one. The father and mother went
quietly along, breaking their way through the brushwood, and did not
notice that I was following them. Of course I kept out of sight as much
as possible, and I went along without its even occurring to me to ask
in what direction they were taking me and Fawn, who was as mad as I
was, or how I should find my way back! I continued for more than two
hours, trying in vain to draw the baby elephant off on a side track.

"As a matter of fact, if I had tried to bring down the father and
mother I don't know how many bullets I should have had to use before
succeeding, and the only result might have been to infuriate the two
brutes and turn them onto me!

"However, I went farther and farther into the heart of the pine forest,
keeping no account of time or distance, or of the trouble I should have
to join Mr. Wolston and Ernest again, and never thinking--I hope they
will not be too angry with me for it--of the trouble I was putting them
to if they were hurrying after me.

"I calculate that I must have gone a good five miles to the eastward in
this way, and all for nothing. Then a realisation of the position came
back to me. Perhaps I was wise after the event; but since the elephants
showed no intention of stopping I thought that it would be best I
should stop.

"It was about four o'clock. The forest was thinner around me; there
were spaces between the trees, and some large clearings. And I think,
by the way, that when we want to go to Jean Zermatt Peak it will be
best to make straight for the south-east."

"Oh, yes, Ernest's letter told us--you gave it my name," said M.
Zermatt.

"It was Mr. Wolston's suggestion that we should do that, papa," Ernest
replied.

"Is it not natural, my friend," Mr. Wolston added, "that the highest
point in New Switzerland should receive the name of the head of the
house?"

"Jean Zermatt Peak, then, let it be," M. Zermatt replied, shaking Mr.
Wolston by the hand; "but let Jack go on with his story and tell us
about the savages."

"They are not very far off," said Jack.

"Not far off?" Mrs. Wolston exclaimed.

"In my story--in my story, I mean, Mamma dear, for in actual fact they
must still be a good twenty-five miles away from Rock Castle."

This answer was somewhat reassuring, and Jack resumed his tale:

"I was in front of a pretty wide clearing in the pine forest then, and
I was about to halt, quite determined not to go any farther, when the
elephants stopped too. So I held in Fawn, who wanted to fly at them.

"Did it mean that that was the part of the forest where these creatures
usually took shelter? There was a stream running between the high grass
just at that spot. My elephants--I felt they were mine!--began to
drink, sucking the water up through their trunks.

"You will not be surprised to hear that when I saw them standing still,
suspecting nothing, my sporting instincts got the upper hand of me
again. An irresistible desire seized me to get the little one apart by
itself, after I had brought down the other two, even if I had to spend
my last cartridge. Besides, two bullets might be enough, if they found
the right spot, and is there a hunter who does not believe in lucky
shots? As to how I was to capture the baby elephant after I had killed
its parents, and how I could lead it to Rock Castle, I did not even
give these questions a thought. I cocked my gun, which was loaded with
ball cartridges. A double report rang out; but if the elephants were
hit they were not much hurt, it would seem, for they merely shook their
ears and poured a final draught of water down their throats.

"They did not even turn around to see where the shot came from, and did
not bother themselves in the least about Fawn's barking. Before I could
fire again, they started off once more, so fast this time, almost as
fast as a horse gallops, that I had to give up all idea of following
them.

"Just for a minute I saw their huge bulk among the trees, above the
brushwood, and their trunks upraised breaking the low branches, and
then they vanished.

"It now became a question of deciding what direction I had better take.
The sun was sinking rapidly, and the pine forest would soon be wrapped
in darkness. I knew that I ought to march towards the west, but there
was nothing to show me whether that was to the left or the right. I had
no pocket compass, and I have not that kind of sense of direction with
which Ernest is gifted.

"Still, I thought I might be able to pick up some tracks of my journey,
or rather of the elephants'. But the coming of night made it very
difficult to do any tracking. Besides, there were any number of heavy
footprints, all crossing one another. And what was more, I could hear
some trumpeting in the distance, which made it seem pretty certain
that it was along the banks of this stream that the herd of elephants
assembled every evening.

"I knew that I should not succeed in finding my way back before
sunrise, and even Fawn, in spite of his instinct, had no better idea
where he was.

"For an hour I wandered about at random, not knowing whether I was
getting nearer to the shore or farther away from it. I blamed myself
for my recklessness, and the thought of Mr. Wolston and Ernest unable
to make up their minds to abandon me and looking in vain for me was
very worrying! It would be I who would have delayed their return to
Rock Castle, and what would you be thinking about their delay? I
thought of all the anxiety you would feel when we did not return within
the time mentioned in Ernest's letter. And then there would be fresh
toil and hardship for Mr. Wolston and Ernest, and for all that I was to
blame."

"Yes, you were to blame, my boy," said M. Zermatt; "even if you did
not think of yourself when you left them, you ought to have thought of
them--and of us."

"That, of course," Mme. Zermatt answered, kissing her son; "he has been
most reckless and imprudent; it might have cost him his life. But since
he is here, we will forgive him."

"I come now," Jack went on, "to the part of my adventures where the
situation became much worse.

"Up to that time, certainly, I had not run any very great danger. As I
had my gun I was safe to be able to get food, even if it took me a week
to find the way back to Rock Castle. Merely by following the coast I
should have got there sooner or later. As for the wild beasts, which
must be plentiful in that part of the island, I hoped if any attacked
me to rout them.

"No; what troubled me was the thought of Mr. Wolston and Ernest losing
heart as they looked in vain for my tracks. I thought they must have
taken their way through this eastern part of the forest, which was not
so dense as the rest. In the case, it was possible that they were not
far from the spot where I had just stopped. The worst of it was that
night was close at hand. So I thought it would be best to camp where
I was, and light a fire. Mr. Wolston and Ernest might see it, and its
lights would help to keep off the animals that were howling in the
neighbourhood.

"But before lighting it I shouted several times, turning in every
direction.

"There was no answer.

"There was the last resource of firing a few shots, and I did so twice.

"I heard no answering report.

"But I thought I could hear, on the right hand, a sort of sliding noise
among the grass. I listened and was on the point of calling out when it
suddenly occurred to me that it could not be Mr. Wolston or my brother
coming from that side. They would have called to me, and we should have
been in each other's arms before that.

"So it must mean that there were animals coming up, or perhaps a
serpent.

"I had no time to assume the defensive. Four bodies rose up in the
darkness--four human beings, not monkeys, as I thought at first! They
sprang upon me, jabbering in a language which I could not understand.
It was only too evident that I was dealing with savages!

"Savages on our island! In a moment I was thrown down, and I felt two
knees pressing on my chest. Then they bound my hands and made me get
up, took me by the shoulders and pushed me in front of them, and I had
to walk at a rapid pace.

"One of the men had taken possession of my gun, another of my game-bag.
It did not seem as if they had any design upon my life--not just then,
at any rate.

"We went all night like that--in what direction I could not discover.
But I noticed that the forest was gradually getting clearer and
clearer. The light of the moon reached right down to the ground, and I
felt sure we were approaching the coast.

"I was not thinking much about myself, my dear people! I was thinking
of you, and of the danger which the presence of these natives on our
island involved! They would only have to go along the coastline as far
as the Montrose River and cross that to reach Cape East, and then come
down again to Rock Castle! If they got there before the _Unicorn_ got
back, you would not be in force enough to beat them off!"

"But did you not say just now, Jack," M. Zermatt asked, "that these
savages must be a long way away from the Promised Land?"

"Yes, Papa, twelve or fifteen miles south of the Montrose, and so about
twenty-five miles from here."

"Well, in less than a fortnight, and perhaps in less than a week, the
_Unicorn_ will be lying in Deliverance Bay," M. Zermatt remarked, "and
after that we shall have nothing to fear. But go on with your story."

So Jack proceeded:

"It was not until the morning, after a long march, without a single
stop to rest, that we reached the cliffs commanding the shore.

"At the foot was an encampment of about a hundred of these ebony
rascals--all of them men, half naked, squatting in the caves hollowed
out at the bottom of the cliff. They were fishers--at least, so I
imagined--who must have been carried towards our island by the winds
from the east, and their canoes were drawn up on the sand. They ran
up to me, and looked at me with astonishment and curiosity, as if it
were the first time they had seen a white man. But there is nothing
surprising in that, since European ships hardly touch this part of the
Indian Ocean.

"After they had examined me at very close quarters they resumed their
habitual indifference. I was not ill-treated. They gave me a few
broiled fish, which I ate hungrily, and I quenched my thirst with water
from a stream which came down from the cliff.

"I had a great sense of satisfaction when I saw that my gun, which
these savages did not know how to use, and my game-bag had been laid
down at the foot of a rock. So I made up my mind to treat these
blackamoors to a few shots, if an opportunity presented itself. But the
situation was speedily altered by an unexpected event.

"About nine o'clock in the evening, in the outskirts of the forest
which ran along the cliffs, there arose suddenly a tremendous uproar
which immediately spread dismay among the natives. And you can imagine
my surprise when I discovered that the uproar was caused by the arrival
of a herd of elephants--thirty of them, at the very least--who were
coming slowly along the bank of the stream towards the beach.

"Dismay? It was absolute panic! Evidently this was the first time
the natives had found themselves in the presence of these huge
animals--beasts with enormously long noses with a kind of hand at the
tip!

"And when the elephants lifted their trunks and waved them about and
twisted them all together, and all started trumpeting, there was a
general stampede. Some scampered off across the rocks, and some tried
to shove their canoes into the water, and the elephants looked on at
the rout with fatuous amiability.

"I, for my part, merely saw my opportunity, and did not wait for
anything more. I did not try to learn what would be the upshot of this
meeting between the elephants and the natives, but ran to the cliff,
went up the ravine and hurried into cover among the timber, where
I found my good old Fawn waiting for me. I need not say that I had
secured my gun and game-bag which would be priceless to me.

"I marched all that night and the next day, hunting for food, and only
stopping to cook and eat my game, and after twenty-four hours I reached
the right bank of the Montrose River, not far from the barrage.

"Then I knew where I was; and I went down to the stream up which papa
and I had walked. I had the plains and woods to cross as I went towards
the Green Valley, and I got there to-day, in the afternoon. I came
through the defile of Cluse, and I cannot tell you, my dear parents, my
dear friends, how dreadfully disappointed I should have been if you had
started already to look for me along the coast--if I had not found you
here at Rock Castle!"

Such was Jack's story.

Who were these natives? Where did they come from? Evidently from the
western coast of Australia, the nearest coast, unless, indeed, there
was a group of islands somewhere, as unknown as New Switzerland had
been until the English corvette arrived. But if these savages were
Australians, belonging to a race that is placed lowest in the human
scale, it was difficult to explain how they had managed to accomplish
a voyage of something like seven hundred and fifty miles in their
canoes--unless, perhaps, they had been driven all that distance by bad
weather.

And now they had met Jack, and knew that the island was inhabited by
men of a race different from their own. What would they do? Would they
put to sea in their canoes again, follow up the coast, and end by
discovering Deliverance Bay and the dwelling-place of Rock Castle?

It could not be very long, it is true, before the _Unicorn_ arrived.
Her guns would be heard in another week; a fortnight at latest. And
with her anchored within a few cable-lengths, there would be nothing to
fear.

So it seemed that it was not a matter of immediate necessity to take
precautions to meet an attack by the savages. Moreover, it was quite
possible that in the panic caused by the sight of the elephants they
had put to sea again. It seemed sufficient that the islanders should
keep a watch on the sea opposite Rock Castle.

And so the next day work was begun again, and chiefly the work of
completing the chapel.

All took part in this. It was desirable that it should be finished
before the _Unicorn_ arrived. The four walls had grown already to the
height of the roof, and the apse was lighted by a circular bay. Mr.
Wolston put in all the timber work, and it was roofed with bamboos
which were proof against the heaviest rains. As to the interior of the
chapel, Mme. Zermatt, Mrs. Wolston, and Hannah were to decorate it as
was proper, and their taste could safely be relied upon.

All this employment continued until the 15th of October, the date fixed
for the return of the _Unicorn_. The length of the voyage being taken
into consideration, a variation of a week or a fortnight in the date
would not be ground for any uneasiness.

The 19th came, and no report of guns had announced the corvette. So
Jack mounted his onager and rode to Prospect Hill, and thence to False
Hope Point.

He lost his labour. The sea was absolutely deserted as far as the
farthest horizon.

He made the same excursion again on the 27th; again without result.

Then, as was not surprising, impatience began to give place to
uneasiness.

"Come, come!" said M. Zermatt frequently, wishing to reassure his
little company. "A fortnight, even three weeks, is not an alarming
delay."

"Besides," Mr. Wolston added, "are we so sure that the _Unicorn_ could
have left England at the date agreed upon?"

"But the Admiralty must have been anxious to take possession of the new
colony," Mme. Zermatt remarked, rather ingenuously.

And Mr. Wolston smiled at the idea that the British Admiralty could
ever be in a hurry to do anything!

But while they watched the sea in the direction of False Hope Point,
they did not neglect to watch it, too, in the direction of Cape East.
Several times a day the telescopes were levelled in the direction of
Elephant Bay, as they called that part of the coast where the savages
had camped.

As yet, however, no canoe had been seen. If the natives had not
sailed away again, it seemed that they had decided not to leave their
encampment. If, unhappily, they appeared beyond Cape East and came
towards Deliverance Bay, it might prove possible to stop them by means
of the battery on Shark's Island and the guns placed on the heights of
Rock Castle. In any event, it was better to have to meet an attack by
sea than one by land, and the greatest danger would be if the savages
came from the interior of the island, after forcing the defile of Cluse.

As a matter of fact, an invasion by a hundred of these blacks and
an assault by them on Rock Castle, in all probability could not
be repulsed. It might perhaps be better on Shark's Island, where
resistance could be maintained until the English corvette arrived.

And still the _Unicorn_ did not arrive, and the end of October was
approaching. Every morning M. Zermatt and Ernest and Jack expected to
be awakened by the firing of guns. The weather was magnificent. The
translucent haze on the horizon melted as the sun rose. Far as sight
could travel over the open sea, all eyes sought the _Unicorn_.

On the 7th of November, all joined in an expedition to Prospect Hill.
But no sail was passing out beyond the bay. In vain did all eyes scan
the horizon to west, east, north! It was from the direction of False
Hope Point that they looked for the realisation of their dearest hopes,
from the direction of Cape East that disaster might come.

And so all stood in silence upon the summit of the hill, half in hope,
half in fear.

                      END OF "THEIR ISLAND HOME"


    [In "The Castaways of the _Flag_," which forms a sequel to this
    story, you can read how it was the _Unicorn_ was delayed, what had
    happened to her passengers, and how the presence of savages on New
    Switzerland affected the Zermatts and the Wolstons.]




*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 74418 ***