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"In half an hour we shall be certain about that," answered the reporter. "Besides, it is very evident that the intention of the captain of this ship is to land, and, consequently, if not today, to-morrow at the latest, we shall make his acquaintance." "Never mind!" said Pencroft. "It is best to know whom we have to deal with, and I shall not be sorry to recognize that fellow's colors!"
Next day, the 28th of March, when the engineer awoke, about eight in the morning, he saw his companions around him watching his sleep, and, as on the day before, his first words were: "Island or continent?" This was his uppermost thought. "Well!" replied Pencroft, "we don't know anything about it, captain!" "You don't know yet?"
"Should you be surprised to hear him beginning to speak to us some day?" "My word, no," replied Neb. "What astonishes me is that he hasn't spoken to us before, for now he wants nothing but speech!" "It would amuse me all the same," resumed the sailor, "if some fine day he said to me, 'Suppose we change pipes, Pencroft." "Yes," replied Neb, "what a pity he was born dumb!"
Neb was with his master; Ayrton was there ready to sacrifice himself for all; Pencroft was more a farmer than he had ever been a sailor; Herbert, who completed his studies under the superintendence of Cyrus Harding, and Gideon Spilett, who founded the New Lincoln Herald, the best-informed journal in the world.
"But if we had not thrown them away, Pencroft, the balloon would have thrown us to the bottom of the sea!" said Herbert. "What you say is true, my boy," replied the sailor. Then passing to another idea, "Think," said he, "how astounded Jonathan Forster and his companions must have been when, next morning, they found the place empty, and the machine flown away!"
But Pencroft, excited at feeling himself so near the corral where he supposed the convicts had taken refuge, was about to press forward, when the reporter held him back with a grasp of iron. "In a few minutes it will be quite dark," whispered Spilett in the sailor's ear, "then will be the time to act."
Pencroft had hoisted the foresail, and steering by the compass followed a rectilinear direction. From time to time Herbert relieved him at the helm, and the lad's hand was so firm that the sailor had not a point to find fault with.
"Nothing," replied Gideon Spilett, "and the document appears even to have been recently written. What do you think about it, Cyrus?" During this conversation Pencroft had not remained inactive. He had put the vessel about, and the "Bonadventure," all sails set, was running rapidly towards Claw Cape. Every one was thinking of the castaway on Tabor Island. Should they be in time to save him?
"At Lincoln Island!" exclaimed in a breath Gideon Spilett, Herbert, Neb, and Pencroft, in the highest degree astonished. "How could you be aware of the existence of Lincoln Island?" inquired Cyrus Harding, "it is not even named in the charts." "I knew of it from a document left by you on Tabor Island," answered Robert Grant. "A document?" cried Gideon Spilett.
"But an island exists in this part of the Pacific already!" "An island?" cried Pencroft. "Tabor Island." "An important island?" "No, an islet lost in the Pacific, and which perhaps has never been visited." "Well, we will visit it," said Pencroft. "We?" "Yes, captain. We will build a decked boat, and I will undertake to steer her. At what distance are we from this Tabor Island?"
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