Chapter 5 chapter Five

Pencroft, after unloading the raft with the dry wood, was at first occupied with plugging up the wind-holes, and making the cave habitable.Use sand, stones, bent branches, and mud to close the hole facing the south wind.A curved slit was left on the side, which can not only pass the smoke, but also pull out the fire.The cavern was thus divided into three or four chambers (if they were worthy of being called chambers), in which the light was dark enough for the beast to be satisfied.But the cave was dry, and the main central room could still stand upright.They spread another layer of fine sand on the ground.When all this was settled, they considered it very satisfactory, for they could not have found a better place.

Perhaps our companions have found a better place than here.said Herbert, helping Pencroft with his work. Very likely, said the sailor, but since we don't know, we must go about our business as usual.It's better to have something than to use it! ah!How nice it would be, cried Herbert, if they could get Mr. Smith back! Yes, not bad at all!A remarkable man, said Pencroft, if he lived. alive!exclaimed Herbert, do you think it impossible to see him again? Who said that?said the sailor.Their work was soon over, to Pencroft's satisfaction. Now, he said, now our friend is back.They have a good place to settle down.

All they had to do now was build a stove to light a fire for cooking.It's very easy.They laid several slab stones under the remaining slits.As long as the smoke doesn't take the heat out, it keeps the inside at the proper temperature.Their firewood was stored in another room, and the sailor laid some wood and branches where the fire was made.The sailor was busy, when suddenly Herbert asked him if he had any matches. Of course there is, said Pencroft, and I can tell you this as good news, for if there is no match or tinder we are at a loss. We can still make fire by drilling wood like the natives.Herbert said.

Well, you try it!Besides moving your arms, boy, let's see if you can grind fire. Hey, that's too easy. The natives of the Pacific Islands often use this method. I admit that, replied Pencroft, but I have tried several times to get the fire out, either because the natives have some special method, or else the wood is different.I think it is still easy to use matches.Oops, where did my matches go? Pencroft was a smoker, and he always kept the matchbox in his waistcoat pocket. He reached out to feel for it, but failed to find it. He searched all over the pockets of his trousers, but there was no matchbox anywhere, and he couldn't help being surprised.

Oops!He looked at Herbert and said, the matchbox in his pocket must have been lost!Herbert, you always have a tinderbox or something to make a fire, don't you? No, I have not, Pencroft. The child ran out with the sailors, and they searched carefully on the sand, in the crevices of the rocks, and on the river bank.The matchbox was made of copper, so it was easy to see, but I searched everywhere, but couldn't find it. Pencroft, asked Herbert, did you not throw him from the basket? I distinctly remember not throwing it away, replied the sailor, but such a small thing is easy to lose in the haste.If I had to lose it, I'd rather lose the pipe!Really bad!Where did the matchbox go?

The tide is out now, you see, said Herbert, go and see where we land. It might be impossible to find a matchbox, and the pebbles on the beach are washed away by the waves at high tide, but it's worth a try.Herbert and Pencroft hurried to the spot where they had landed yesterday, which was about two hundred paces from the cave.They rummaged in the gravel and rock crevices, but found nothing.Had it been left in this place, it must have been washed away by the waves.When the tide went out, they searched every crevice, but in vain.In their circumstances at the time, this was a great loss, and it was irreparable.Pencroft could not hide his uneasiness, and frowned, too anxious to say a word.Herbert had no choice but to comfort him by saying that even if he found a match, it must be soaked in sea water and could not be used.

No, boy, said the sailor, matches are kept in brass boxes with a tight lid, and what shall we do now? We must have a way to light a fire!Mr. Smith and Mr. Spilett, said Herbert, would never be without matches. Yes, replied Pencroft, but the water is far from quenching the thirst, and they will have nothing good to eat when they come back. Well, said Herbert quickly, don't you think they don't have matches or tinder? I don't think so. The sailor shook his head and replied that neither Neb nor Smith smoked, and Spilett would rather throw away the matchbox than keep his notebook.

Herbert made no answer.It was a pity to lose the matchbox, but the boy still believed that fire could be made in other ways.Pencroft's experience is relatively rich, and he never seeks troubles for himself, but his thinking is different from the boy's.In any case, they had to wait for the return of Neb and the correspondent, and they had to abandon the plan of boiling eggs.Swallowing raw is not always a comfortable thing, either for themselves or for others. The fire was certainly out of reach, so the sailor and Herbert gathered some more clams, and went back to the grotto in silence.

Pencroft kept his eyes fixed on the ground, and continued to search for his match-box.He even climbed up to the left bank of the river, from the mouth of the river to the bend where the raft was anchored.He went back to the high ground and looked around, and in the tall grass at the edge of the forest, but there was nothing there. At five o'clock in the evening he and Herbert returned to the Grotto.It is needless to say that they had searched the darkest corners of the cave before they gave up looking for it.About six o'clock, just as the sun was setting, Herbert, strolling along the waterfront, reported the return of Neb and Spilett.

They didn't find Smith!The boy was disappointed; the sailor guessed right, and the engineer Cyrus.Smith did not find it! When the correspondent returned, he sat down on the rock without saying a word.He was exhausted and hungry, and he didn't even have the strength to speak. Neb's eyes were red from weeping, and his tears were still falling. It was obvious that he was completely hopeless. The correspondent recounted their efforts to find Cyrus.Smith's history.He and Neb followed the coast to eight miles, well past the spot where the balloon had last landed, after which the Engineer and Top had disappeared.There is no one on the coast, and there is no trace of it.The pebbles were completely untouched, there was no sign in the sand, not a single footprint on that part of the shore.Apparently no one had ever been to that stretch of coast.The sea was as desolate as the land, and the engineer must have drowned a few hundred feet offshore.

After Spilett finished speaking, Neb was still holding on to hope. He jumped up and said loudly: No!He is not dead!It is impossible for him to die!Others may, but he will never die!He can escape any disaster!Then he murmured: Ah!I can't stand it! Neb, said Herbert, running to him, we shall find him!God will give him back to us!Now that you're hungry, eat something! As he spoke, he handed the poor Negro some handfuls of clams.These foods are really unpalatable and not filling enough.Neb had been hungry for hours, but he would not eat.He can't live without his master, and he doesn't want to live alone. Ji Ding.Spilett wolfed down some clams and fell asleep on the sand at the foot of the rock.He was tired and emotionally stable.Herbert came up to him, shook his hand, and said: Sir, it is better for us to find a lodging than to lie here.It's getting dark, go, go to sleep!Tomorrow we will go further afield to find it. The correspondent got up and followed the boy to the grotto.On the way Pencroft asked him very naturally if he had any matches, if only one or two. The correspondent stopped and felt for his pocket, but he couldn't find it. He said: "I had it before, but I probably threw it away." The sailor asked Neb again, but he didn't either. Damn it!shouted the sailor. When the correspondent heard this, he grabbed his arm and asked: Don't you have any matches? None, so no fire! well!cried Neb, if the master were here, he would be able to do it! The four victims stood motionless, looking at each other anxiously.Herbert broke the silence first: Mr. Spilett, you are a smoker, and you always carry matches with you. Maybe you didn't look for them carefully, so look for them again, as long as you have one! The correspondent searched again in the pockets of his trousers, overcoat, and waistcoat, but unexpectedly found a small wooden stick in the inner layer of the waistcoat.Pencroft was overjoyed, and he held it through the lining, but could not get it out.If this is really a match, then this is the only one, and you must be very careful not to drop the match head. let me try it, ok?said the child.So he deftly took out the little stick without breaking it. Although the match itself was worthless, it was very valuable to these poor people.This match has not been used yet. Ha ha!exclaimed Pencroft, one is like a whole boatload of matches! He took the match, led his companions, and walked into the cave. In inhabited places too many such matches are wasted carelessly to be worth much; but this one must be handled with extreme care. The sailor first made sure that it was dry, and then said: We must prepare the kindling paper. Spilett hesitated, then tore out a page from his notebook and said: Take it. Pencroft took the paper from the correspondent, knelt down before the pile of wood, and set up the wood, with some dry grass, leaves, and dry moss under it, so that the air would circulate and it would be easier to light the dry wood. Then Pencroft rolled the paper into a cone, and inserted it into the moss, as if smoking in a windy place.Then he picked up a small piece of rough stone and wiped it carefully. He held his breath, his heart beating wildly, and lightly struck a match on the stone, and it didn't strike.It turned out that Pencroft did not dare to use too much force for fear of knocking the match head off. No, I can't do it, he said, my hands are shaking and the match won't strike.No, I quit!So he got up and asked Herbert to take his place. Indeed, the child had never been so nervous in his life.When Prometheus went to the sky to steal fire, he would not be more nervous than him.However, he didn't hesitate, picked up the match and struck it. There was a chirp of the match, and then a little blue flame lit up and a puff of choking smoke came out.Without haste, Herbert tipped the match downwards so that it burned more vigorously.Then he put the match in the paper tube, and after a few seconds, both the paper tube and the moss caught fire. The sailor blew hard with his mouth, and a minute later there was a crackling sound of the dry wood, and a great fire was kindled in the darkness. Thank goodness!cried Pencroft, rising to his feet, I never felt so nervous! Slab stones make a wonderful fireplace.The smoke from the furnace easily escaped through the slit, and the chimney was burning, and in a short while the grotto was warm and comfortable. Now they must be very careful not to let the bonfire go out, and always leave some glowing coals.They have plenty of firewood and fresh fuel is always on hand, so just keep an eye on it. It was Pencroft's first desire to make a supper more nutritious than raw clams by means of the fire.Herbert brought two dozen eggs.The correspondent leaned in a corner and watched them cook in silence.Three questions swirled in his mind: Is Cyrus still alive?If alive, where is he?If he didn't fall to his death, why didn't he try to show that he was still here?Meanwhile Neb wandered alone on the beach.It was as if he had lost his soul. Pencroft knew fifty ways of making an egg, but this time he could not choose at will. He had to stew the egg in ashes.In five or six minutes the meal was ready, and the sailor called the correspondent to his portion of the supper.This was the first delicious meal the wrecked had on this nameless shore.The stewed eggs were very good, and they contained all kinds of nourishment that is indispensable to human beings, so that the poor people were satisfied and refreshed after eating them.How nice it would be to have a reunion dinner!How would they have thanked Heaven if none of the five escaped from Richmond had sat on the dry sand of the grotto before the crackling, vigorous fire!Yet their unanimous leader, the most learned and learned, was Cyrus.Smith has disappeared!There is not even a cemetery after his death. Thus passed the twenty-fifth of March.Night has come.Outside the cave, the howling wind roared, and the stormy waves beat the shore, making a monotonous sound.The waves brushed the sand and stones back and forth, making a deafening noise. The correspondent gave a brief account of the day's encounters, recording his first impressions of the new land, the disappearance of their leader, the exploration of the coast, and the building of fires.Excessively tired, and intending to sleep away his troubles, he withdrew into a dark corner.Herbert fell asleep as soon as he lay down.The sailor spent the night dreaming of the fire, and he fueled it generously and generously.But there was one lost man who did not sleep in the grotto, and that was the sad and hopeless Neb.No matter how much his companions persuaded him to rest, he still wandered all night by the seashore, calling for his master.