All this was said amid bursts of unnatural laughter.
“But the compass,” I cried; “without that what can we do?”
“Here it is safe and sound!” he cried, with real joy, “ah, ah, and here we have the chronometer and the thermometers. Hans the hunter is indeed an invaluable man!”
It was impossible to deny this fact. As far as the nautical and other instruments were concerned, nothing was wanting. Then on further examination, I found ladders, cords, pickaxes, crowbars, and shovels, all scattered about on the shore.
There was, however, finally the most important question of all, and that was, provisions.
“But what are we to do for food?” I asked.
“Let us see to the commissariat department,” replied my uncle gravely.
The boxes which contained our supply of food for the voyage were placed in a row along the strand, and were in a capital state of preservation; the sea had in every case respected their contents, and to sum up in one sentence, taking into consideration, biscuits, salt, meat, Schiedam, and dried fish, we could still calculate on having about four months’ supply, if used with prudence and caution.
“Four months,” cried the sanguine Professor in high glee. “Then we shall have plenty of time both to go and to come, and with what remains I undertake to give a grand dinner to my colleagues of the Johanneum.”
I sighed. I should by this time have used myself to the temperament of my uncle, and yet this man astonished me more and more every day. He was the greatest human enigma I ever had known.
“Now,” said he, “before we do anything else, we must lay in a stock of fresh water. The rain has fallen in abundance, and filled the hollows of the granite. There is a rich supply of water, and we have no fear of suffering from thirst, which in our circumstances is of the last importance. As for the raft, I shall recommend Hans to repair it to the best of his abilities; though I have every reason to believe we shall not require it again.”
“How is that?” I cried, more amazed than ever at my uncle’s style of reasoning.
“I have an idea, my dear boy; it is none other than this simple fact: we shall not come out by the same opening as that by which we entered.”
I began to look at my uncle with vague suspicion. An idea had more than once taken possession of me; and this was, that he was going mad. And yet, little did I think how true and prophetic his words were doomed to be.
“And now,” he said, “having seen to all these matters of detail, to breakfast.”
I followed him to a sort of projecting cape, after he had given his last instructions to our guide. In this original position, with dried meat, biscuit, and a delicious cup of tea, we made a satisfactory meal—I may say one of the most welcome and pleasant I ever remember. Exhaustion, the keen atmosphere, the state of calm after so much agitation, all contributed to give me an excellent appetite. Indeed, it contributed very much to producing a pleasant and cheerful state of mind.
While breakfast was in hand, and between the sips of warm tea, I asked my uncle if he had any idea of how we now stood in relation to the world above.
“For my part,” I added, “I think it will be rather difficult to determine.”
“Well, if we were compelled to fix the exact spot,” said my uncle, “it might be difficult, since during the three days of that awful tempest I could keep no account either of the quickness of our pace, or of the direction in which the raft was going. Still, we will endeavor to approximate the truth. We shall not, I believe, be so very far out.”
“Well, if I recollect rightly,” I replied, “our last observation was made at the geyser island.”
“Harry’s Island, my boy! Harry’s Island. Do not decline the honor of having named it; given your name to an island discovered by us, the first human beings who trod it since the creation of the world!”