Chapter 62

CHAPTER 20

An isolated rock, thirty feet in length, twenty in breadth, scarcely ten
from the water's edge, such was the only solid point which the waves of the
Pacific had not engulfed.

It was all that remained of the structure of Granite House! The wall had
fallen headlong and been then shattered to fragments, and a few of the
rocks of the large room were piled one above another to form this point.
All around had disappeared in the abyss; the inferior cone of Mount
Franklin, rent asunder by the explosion; the lava jaws of Shark Gulf, the
plateau of Prospect Heights, Safety Islet, the granite rocks of Port
Balloon, the basalts of Dakkar Grotto, the long Serpentine Peninsula, so
distant nevertheless from the center of the eruption. All that could now be
seen of Lincoln Island was the narrow rock which now served as a refuge to
the six colonists and their dog Top.

The animals had also perished in the catastrophe; the birds, as well as
those representing the fauna of the island--all either crushed or drowned,
and the unfortunate Jup himself had, alas! found his death in some crevice
of the soil.

If Cyrus Harding, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, Pencroft, Neb, and Ayrton had
survived, it was because, assembled under their tent, they had been hurled
into the sea at the instant when the fragments of the island rained down on
every side.

When they reached the surface they could only perceive, at half a cable's
length, this mass of rocks, towards which they swam and on which they found
footing.

On this barren rock they had now existed for nine days. A few provisions
taken from the magazine of Granite House before the catastrophe, a little
fresh water from the rain which had fallen in a hollow of the rock, was all
that the unfortunate colonists possessed. Their last hope, the vessel, had
been shattered to pieces. They had no means of quitting the reef; no fire,
nor any means of obtaining it. It seemed that they must inevitably perish.

This day, the 18th of March, there remained only provisions for two days,
although they limited their consumption to the bare necessaries of life.
All their science and intelligence could avail them nothing in their
present position. They were in the hand of God.

Cyrus Harding was calm, Gideon Spilett more nervous, and Pencroft, a prey
to sullen anger, walked to and fro on the rock. Herbert did not for a
moment quit the engineer's side, as if demanding from him that assistance
he had no power to give. Neb and Ayrton were resigned to their fate.

"Ah, what a misfortune! what a misfortune!" often repeated Pencroft. "If
we had but a walnut-shell to take us to Tabor Island! But we have nothing,
nothing!"

"Captain Nemo did right to die,"