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

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

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.

"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.