Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

In a few words, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, and Neb were made acquainted with
what had happened. This accident, which appeared so very serious to
Pencroft, produced different effects on the companions of the honest
sailor.

Neb, in his delight at having found his master, did not listen, or
rather, did not care to trouble himself with what Pencroft was saying.

Herbert shared in some degree the sailor's feelings.

As to the reporter, he simply replied,--

"Upon my word, Pencroft, it's perfectly indifferent to me!"

"But, I repeat, that we haven't any fire!"

"Pooh!"

"Nor any means of relighting it!"

"Nonsense!"

"But I say, Mr. Spilett--"

"Isn't Cyrus here?" replied the reporter.

"Is not our engineer alive? He will soon find some way of making fire for
us!"

"With what?"

"With nothing."

What had Pencroft to say? He could say nothing, for, in the bottom of his
heart he shared the confidence which his companions had in Cyrus Harding.
The engineer was to them a microcosm, a compound of every science, a
possessor of all human knowledge. It was better to be with Cyrus in a
desert island, than without him in the most flourishing town in the United
States. With him they could want nothing; with him they would never
despair. If these brave men had been told that a volcanic eruption would
destroy the land, that this land would be engulfed in the depths of the
Pacific, they would have imperturbably replied,--

Cyrus is here!"

While in the palanquin, however, the engineer had again relapsed into
unconsciousness, which the jolting to which he had been subjected during
his journey had brought on, so that they could not now appeal to his
ingenuity. The supper must necessarily be very meager. In fact, all the
grouse flesh had been consumed, and there no longer existed any means of
cooking more game. Besides, the couroucous which had been reserved had
disappeared. They must consider what was to be done.

First of all, Cyrus Harding was carried into the central passage. There
they managed to arrange for him a couch of sea-weed which still remained
almost dry. The deep sleep which had overpowered him would no doubt be more
beneficial to him than any nourishment.

Night had closed in, and the temperature, which had modified when the
wind shifted to the northwest, again became extremely cold. Also, the sea
having destroyed the partitions which Pencroft had put up in certain places
in the passages, the Chimneys, on account of the draughts, had become
scarcely habitable. The engineer's condition would, therefore, have been
bad enough, if his companions had not carefully covered him with their
coats and