《The Mysterious Island 神秘岛》Book 1 Chapter 7（在线收听）

Gideon Spilett was standing motionless on the shore, his arms crossed, gazing over the sea, the horizon of which was lost towards the east in a thick black cloud which was spreading rapidly towards the zenith. The wind was already strong, and increased with the decline of day. The whole sky was of a threatening aspect, and the first symptoms of a violent storm were clearly visible.

Herbert entered the Chimneys, and Pencroft went towards the reporter. The latter, deeply absorbed, did not see him approach.

"We are going to have a dirty night, Mr. Spilett!" said the sailor: "Petrels delight in wind and rain."

The reporter, turning at the moment, saw Pencroft, and his first words were,--

"At what distance from the coast would you say the car was, when the waves carried off our companion?"

The sailor had not expected this question. He reflected an instant and replied,--

"Two cables lengths at the most."

"But what is a cable's length?" asked Gideon Spilett.

"About a hundred and twenty fathoms, or six hundred feet."

"Then," said the reporter, "Cyrus Harding must have disappeared twelve hundred feet at the most from the shore?"

"About that," replied Pencroft.

"And his dog also?"

"Also."

"What astonishes me," rejoined the reporter, "while admitting that our companion has perished, is that Top has also met his death, and that neither the body of the dog nor of his master has been cast on the shore!"

"It is not astonishing, with such a heavy sea," replied the sailor. "Besides, it is possible that currents have carried them farther down the coast."

"Then, it is your opinion that our friend has perished in the waves?" again asked the reporter.

"That is my opinion."

"My own opinion," said Gideon Spilett, "with due deference to your experience, Pencroft, is that in the double fact of the absolute disappearance of Cyrus and Top, living or dead, there is something unaccountable and unlikely."

"I wish I could think like you, Mr. Spilett," replied Pencroft; "unhappily, my mind is made up on this point." Having said this, the sailor returned to the Chimneys. A good fire crackled on the hearth. Herbert had just thrown on an armful of dry wood, and the flame cast a bright light into the darkest parts of the passage.

Pencroft immediately began to prepare the dinner. It appeared best to introduce something solid into the bill of fare, for all needed to get up their strength. The strings of couroucous were kept for the next day, but they plucked a couple of grouse, which were soon spitted on a stick, and roasting before a blazing fire.

At seven in the evening Neb had not returned. The prolonged absence of the Negro made Pencroft very uneasy. It was to be feared that he had met with an accident on this unknown land, or that the unhappy fellow had been driven to some act of despair. But Herbert drew very different conclusions from this absence. According to him, Neb's delay was caused by some new circumstances which had induced him to prolong his search. Also, everything new must be to the advantage of Cyrus Harding. Why had Neb not returned unless hope still detained him? Perhaps he had found some mark, a footstep, a trace which had put him in the right path. Perhaps he was at this moment on a certain track. Perhaps even he was near his master.

Thus the lad reasoned. Thus he spoke. His companions let him talk. The reporter alone approved with a gesture. But what Pencroft thought most probable was, that Neb had pushed his researches on the shore farther than the day before, and that he had not as yet had time to return.

Herbert, however, agitated by vague presentiments, several times manifested an intention to go to meet Neb. But Pencroft assured him that that would be a useless course, that in the darkness and deplorable weather he could not find any traces of Neb, and that it would be much better to wait. If Neb had not made his appearance by the next day, Pencroft would not hesitate to join him in his search.

Gideon Spilett approved of the sailor's opinion that it was best not to divide, and Herbert was obliged to give up his project; but two large tears fell from his eyes.

The reporter could not refrain from embracing the generous boy.

Bad weather now set in. A furious gale from the southeast passed over the coast. The sea roared as it beat over the reef. Heavy rain was dashed by the storm into particles like dust. Ragged masses of vapor drove along the beach, on which the tormented shingles sounded as if poured out in cart- loads, while the sand raised by the wind added as it were mineral dust to that which was liquid, and rendered the united attack insupportable. Between the river's mouth and the end of the cliff, eddies of wind whirled and gusts from this maelstrom lashed the water which ran through the narrow valley. The smoke from the fireplace was also driven back through the opening, filling the passages and rendering them uninhabitable.

Therefore, as the grouse were cooked, Pencroft let the fire die away, and only preserved a few embers buried under the ashes.

At eight o'clock Neb had not appeared, but there was no doubt that the frightful weather alone hindered his return, and that he must have taken refuge in some cave, to await the end of the storm or at least the return of day. As to going to meet him, or attempting to find him, it was impossible.

The game constituted the only dish at supper; the meat was excellent, and Pencroft and Herbert, whose long excursion had rendered them very hungry, devoured it with infinite satisfaction.

Their meal concluded, each retired to the corner in which he had rested the preceding night, and Herbert was not long in going to sleep near the sailor, who had stretched himself beside the fireplace.

Outside, as the night advanced, the tempest also increased in strength, until it was equal to that which had carried the prisoners from Richmond to this land in the Pacific. The tempests which are frequent during the seasons of the equinox, and which are so prolific in catastrophes, are above all terrible over this immense ocean, which opposes no obstacle to their fury. No description can give an idea of the terrific violence of the gale as it beat upon the unprotected coast.

Happily the pile of rocks which formed the Chimneys was solid. It was composed of enormous blocks of granite, a few of which, insecurely balanced, seemed to tremble on their foundations, and Pencroft could feel rapid quiverings under his head as it rested on the rock. But he repeated to himself, and rightly, that there was nothing to fear, and that their retreat would not give way. However he heard the noise of stones torn from the summit of the plateau by the wind, falling down on to the beach. A few even rolled on to the upper part of the Chimneys, or flew off in fragments when they were projected perpendicularly. Twice the sailor rose and intrenched himself at the opening of the passage, so as to take a look in safety at the outside. But there was nothing to be feared from these showers, which were not considerable, and he returned to his couch before the fireplace, where the embers glowed beneath the ashes.

Notwithstanding the fury of the hurricane, the uproar of the tempest, the thunder, and the tumult, Herbert slept profoundly. Sleep at last took possession of Pencroft, whom a seafaring life had habituated to anything. Gideon Spilett alone was kept awake by anxiety. He reproached himself with not having accompanied Neb. It was evident that he had not abandoned all hope. The presentiments which had troubled Herbert did not cease to agitate him also. His thoughts were concentrated on Neb. Why had Neb not returned? He tossed about on his sandy couch, scarcely giving a thought to the struggle of the elements. Now and then, his eyes, heavy with fatigue, closed for an instant, but some sudden thought reopened them almost immediately.

Meanwhile the night advanced, and it was perhaps two hours from morning, when Pencroft, then sound asleep, was vigorously shaken.

"What's the matter?" he cried, rousing himself, and collecting his ideas with the promptitude usual to seamen.

The reporter was leaning over him, and saying,--

"Listen, Pencroft, listen!"

The sailor strained his ears, but could hear no noise beyond those caused by the storm.

"It is the wind," said he.

"No," replied Gideon Spilett, listening again, "I thought I heard--"

"What?"

"The barking of a dog!"

"A dog!" cried Pencroft, springing up.

"Yes--barking--"

"It's not possible!" replied the sailor. "And besides, how, in the roaring of the storm--"

"Stop--listen--" said the reporter.

Pencroft listened more attentively, and really thought he heard, during a lull, distant barking.

"Well!" said the reporter, pressing the sailor's hand.

"Yes--yes!" replied Pencroft.

"It is Top! It is Top!" cried Herbert, who had just awoke; and all three rushed towards the opening of the Chimneys. They had great difficulty in getting out. The wind drove them back. But at last they succeeded, and could only remain standing by leaning against the rocks. They looked about, but could not speak. The darkness was intense. The sea, the sky, the land were all mingled in one black mass. Not a speck of light was visible.

The reporter and his companions remained thus for a few minutes, overwhelmed by the wind, drenched by the rain, blinded by the sand.

Then, in a pause of the tumult, they again heard the barking, which they found must be at some distance.

It could only be Top! But was he alone or accompanied? He was most probably alone, for, if Neb had been with him, he would have made his way more directly towards the Chimneys. The sailor squeezed the reporter's hand, for he could not make himself heard, in a way which signified "Wait!" then he reentered the passage.

An instant after he issued with a lighted fagot, which he threw into the darkness, whistling shrilly.

It appeared as if this signal had been waited for; the barking immediately came nearer, and soon a dog bounded into the passage. Pencroft, Herbert, and Spilett entered after him.

An armful of dry wood was thrown on the embers. The passage was lighted up with a bright flame.

"It is Top!" cried Herbert.

It was indeed Top, a magnificent Anglo-Norman, who derived from these two races crossed the swiftness of foot and the acuteness of smell which are the preeminent qualities of coursing dogs. It was the dog of the engineer, Cyrus Harding. But he was alone! Neither Neb nor his master accompanied him!

How was it that his instinct had guided him straight to the Chimneys, which he did not know? It appeared inexplicable, above all, in the midst of this black night and in such a tempest! But what was still more inexplicable was, that Top was neither tired, nor exhausted, nor even soiled with mud or sand!--Herbert had drawn him towards him, and was patting his head, the dog rubbing his neck against the lad's hands.

"If the dog is found, the master will be found also!" said the reporter.

"God grant it!" responded Herbert. "Let us set off! Top will guide us!"

Pencroft did not make any objection. He felt that Top's arrival contradicted his conjectures. "Come along then!" said he.

Pencroft carefully covered the embers on the hearth. He placed a few pieces of wood among them, so as to keep in the fire until their return. Then, preceded by the dog, who seemed to invite them by short barks to come with him, and followed by the reporter and the boy, he dashed out, after having put up in his handkerchief the remains of the supper.

The storm was then in all its violence, and perhaps at its height. Not a single ray of light from the moon pierced through the clouds. To follow a straight course was difficult. It was best to rely on Top's instinct. They did so. The reporter and Herbert walked behind the dog, and the sailor brought up the rear. It was impossible to exchange a word. The rain was not very heavy, but the wind was terrific.

However, one circumstance favored the seaman and his two companions. The wind being southeast, consequently blew on their backs. The clouds of sand, which otherwise would have been insupportable, from being received behind, did not in consequence impede their progress. In short, they sometimes went faster than they liked, and had some difficulty in keeping their feet; but hope gave them strength, for it was not at random that they made their way along the shore. They had no doubt that Neb had found his master, and that he had sent them the faithful dog. But was the engineer living, or had Neb only sent for his companions that they might render the last duties to the corpse of the unfortunate Harding?

After having passed the precipice, Herbert, the reporter, and Pencroft prudently stepped aside to stop and take breath. The turn of the rocks sheltered them from the wind, and they could breathe after this walk or rather run of a quarter of an hour.

They could now hear and reply to each other, and the lad having pronounced the name of Cyrus Harding, Top gave a few short barks, as much as to say that his master was saved.

"Saved, isn't he?" repeated Herbert; "saved, Top?"

And the dog barked in reply.

They once more set out. The tide began to rise, and urged by the wind it threatened to be unusually high, as it was a spring tide. Great billows thundered against the reef with such violence that they probably passed entirely over the islet, then quite invisible. The mole no longer protected the coast, which was directly exposed to the attacks of the open sea.

As soon as the sailor and his companions left the precipice, the wind struck them again with renewed fury. Though bent under the gale they walked very quickly, following Top, who did not hesitate as to what direction to take.

They ascended towards the north, having on their left an interminable extent of billows, which broke with a deafening noise, and on their right a dark country, the aspect of which it was impossible to guess. But they felt that it was comparatively flat, for the wind passed completely over them, without being driven back as it was when it came in contact with the cliff.

At four o'clock in the morning, they reckoned that they had cleared about five miles. The clouds were slightly raised, and the wind, though less damp, was very sharp and cold. Insufficiently protected by their clothing, Pencroft, Herbert and Spilett suffered cruelly, but not a complaint escaped their lips. They were determined to follow Top, wherever the intelligent animal wished to lead them.

Towards five o'clock day began to break. At the zenith, where the fog was less thick, gray shades bordered the clouds; under an opaque belt, a luminous line clearly traced the horizon. The crests of the billows were tipped with a wild light, and the foam regained its whiteness. At the same time on the left the hilly parts of the coast could be seen, though very indistinctly.

At six o'clock day had broken. The clouds rapidly lifted. The seaman and his companions were then about six miles from the Chimneys. They were following a very flat shore bounded by a reef of rocks, whose heads scarcely emerged from the sea, for they were in deep water. On the left, the country appeared to be one vast extent of sandy downs, bristling with thistles. There was no cliff, and the shore offered no resistance to the ocean but a chain of irregular hillocks. Here and there grew two or three trees, inclined towards the west, their branches projecting in that direction. Quite behind, in the southwest, extended the border of the forest.

At this moment, Top became very excited. He ran forward, then returned, and seemed to entreat them to hasten their steps. The dog then left the beach, and guided by his wonderful instinct, without showing the least hesitation, went straight in among the downs. They followed him. The country appeared an absolute desert. Not a living creature was to be seen.

The downs, the extent of which was large, were composed of hillocks and even of hills, very irregularly distributed. They resembled a Switzerland modeled in sand, and only an amazing instinct could have possibly recognized the way.

Five minutes after having left the beach, the reporter and his two companions arrived at a sort of excavation, hollowed out at the back of a high mound. There Top stopped, and gave a loud, clear bark. Spilett, Herbert, and Pencroft dashed into the cave.

Neb was there, kneeling beside a body extended on a bed of grass.

The body was that of the engineer, Cyrus Harding.

吉丁·史佩莱站在海边，两臂交叉在胸前，一动也不动地凝视着大海，东方的水平线上遮着一层层浓厚的乌云，它飞快地往头顶上扩张开来。风已经很大，随着夜色的降临，天变得更冷了。天空呈现出一幅险恶的景象，可以清楚地看出，这是暴风雨的前奏。

赫伯特进了“石窟”，潘克洛夫向通讯记者走去。史佩莱正在出神，没有发现有人向自己走来。

“今天晚上恐怕要起暴风了，史佩莱先生，海燕是喜欢暴风雨的。”

这时候通讯记者转过身，他看见潘克洛夫，第一句话就说：

“你记得海浪把我们的伙伴卷走的时候气球离海岸有多远？”

水手没有想到他会问这个。他想了一会，然后答道：

“至多两锚链。”

“一锚链有多长？”吉丁·史佩莱问道。

“大约有一百二十寻，也就是二百米的光景。”

“那么，”通讯记者说，“赛勒斯·史密斯失踪的地方离岸至多不过四百米？”

“差不多。”潘克洛夫说。

“他的狗也是在那里失踪的吗？”

“是的。”

“我认为奇怪的是，”通讯记者接着说，“假如说是我们的伙伴死了，托普也淹死了，难道狗和它主人的尸体都冲不到岸上来吗？”

“这一点也不奇怪，海里的风浪这么大，”水手答道。“而且海水也可能把他们带到更远的地方去的。”

“那么，你认为我们的朋友已经死在海里了吗？”通讯记者又问道。

“我认为是这样。”

“潘克洛夫，你的经验我当然佩服，”吉丁·史佩莱说，“现在不管他们是不些是真死了，我总觉得在赛勒斯和托普一起失踪的这件事情上，有地方是没法解释和不合情理的。”

“我也希望我能跟你一样想，史佩莱先生，”潘克洛夫答道。“可惜的是，在这个问题上我的想法已经肯定了。”水手说完，就回“石窟”去了。炉架上噼噼啪啪地燃烧着烈火。赫伯特刚扔了一抱干柴在上面，火焰把通道里最暗的地方都照亮了。

潘克洛夫马上就开始做饭。按理说饭食中最好能增添一些吃得饱的食物，因为他们都需要恢复体力。他们把大串的锦鸡留到第二天，将两只松鸡拔了毛，叉在棍子上，在旺盛的火焰上烤了起来。

晚上七点钟了，纳布还没有回来，这使潘克洛夫非常不安。他们担心这个伤心的人会在这陌生的土地上遇见什么意外，或是因为绝望而自寻短见了。但赫伯特看法完全不同。他认为纳布没有回来是由于发现了新的线索，因此延长了寻找的时间。并且，每一个新的发现都是对赛勒斯·史密斯有利的。假如不是怀着希望，纳布为什么还不回来呢？也许他发现了痕迹，一个脚印，或者是什么残留的东西，因为有这些才把他引对了路。也许他现在正在沿着线索寻找。甚至也许他就在他主人的近旁。

少年这样推测，这样谈出自己的看法。他的同伴们听着他说。通讯记者独自默默地表示同意。然而潘克洛夫认为纳布多半是沿着海岸走得比前一天更远了，还没有来得及回来。

赫伯特不知为什么总是感到坐立不安，他几次表示要出去找纳布。但潘克洛夫跟他说这是没有用处的，在黑暗和阴森森的天气里，不可能找到纳布的踪迹，还不如在家里等他回来。假如到第二天纳布还不回来，潘克洛夫会毫不犹豫地和他一起去找的。

吉丁·史佩莱同意水手的意见，也劝他最好不要再分开，赫伯特只好放弃自己的计划，但是两颗大粒的泪珠却从他的眼睛里滴了下来。

通讯记者不禁将这慷慨侠义的孩子紧紧搂在怀里。

天气变了。一阵狂风从东南方吹来，刮过海滨。奔腾澎湃的海水冲击着礁石。倾盆大雨被暴风吹得和滚滚灰尘一般。岸边笼罩着一团激起的雾气，砾石在风浪的逼迫之下撞击在海岸上，好象成车往外倒似的，发出哗啦啦的巨响。大风飞砂走石，给雨水造成的烟尘里增添了一种矿质的尘土，这两股力量汇合在一起成了一股不可抵挡的力量。旋风在河口和峭壁之间打转，阵阵旋涡抽打着峡谷间的流水。“石窟”里冒出来的烟也被顶回到缝隙里去了，通道里烟气弥漫，呆在里面很不舒服。

因此，等松鸡烧好以后，潘克洛夫就把篝火熄灭了，只留下几块火炭在灰烬里。

已经是晚上八点钟了，纳布还没有回来。毫无疑问，是可怕的天气把他阻拦在外边了。他一定已经找到藏身的洞穴，打算等到暴风雨停了以后，或者至少是等到第二天再回来，现在要想去接他，或是打算把他找回来是不可能的。

晚餐吃的是猎得的野味；松鸡肉非常鲜美，潘克洛夫和赫伯特打猎累了一天，肚子很饿，更是吃得津津有味。

晚饭以后，大家都睡到前一晚自己所占的角落里去；水手四仰八叉地躺在靠火的地方，赫伯特在他身旁很快就睡着了。

夜渐深，外面的风雨也愈紧，还记得那天把这群俘虏从里士满带到太平洋岛屿上来的情况吧，最后就变得跟那天差不多了，暴风雨在春秋雨季特别频繁，经常酿成巨灾，在无边天际的海洋上，什么也阻拦不住它，因此尤其可怕，一个毫无屏障的东海岸在这种可怕的狂风袭击下的惨象是难以形容的。

幸而堆成“石窟”的岩石是很牢固的。这是些巨大的花岗石堆成的“石窟”，有几座不怎么牢固，风吹过来好象连地基都晃动了。潘克洛夫枕在岩石上，可以感觉到它们在自己的头底下频频震动。他一再安慰自己——正正经经地安慰自己——不必害怕，他们的避难所是不会倒塌的。可是他也听见高地的顶上有石头被风刮走，掉在海滩上，有几块甚至落在“石窟”的顶上，有的被垂直卷起来，裂成小块往外飞射出去。水手两次爬起身来，一面借着通道入口的地方挡着身子保住自己的安全，一面往外看。雨并没有什么了不起，可以不必害怕，于是他就回到篝火前的铺上，火炭还在灰烬中爆裂作响。

虽然外面风雨在咆哮，雷声隆隆，但赫伯特还是睡得很熟。最后潘克洛夫也困了，航海的生涯使他对什么都习惯了。只有吉丁·史佩莱焦急得睡不着觉。他埋怨自己没有陪纳布一块儿去。显然史佩莱还没有放弃一切的希望。使赫伯特心神不宁的预感同样也使他放心不下。他满脑子想的都是纳布。为什么纳布没有回来呢？他躺在沙地上翻来复去，几乎完全不理会外面的狂风暴雨，他有时合上沉重的眼皮，但仅仅是一会儿，往往又突然想到什么立刻重新睁开。

夜色已经深沉了，大约在第二天早上两点钟的时候，正在酣睡的潘克洛夫突然被推醒了。

“怎么回事？”他醒过来喊道，同时马上恢复了他的神志。这是一般水手所独具的本领。

通讯记者在他上面俯着身子说：

“听，潘克洛夫，听！”

水手竖起耳朵，但是除了外边的风雨声之外，听不见其他什么响动。

“那是风。”他说。

“不，”吉丁·史佩莱答道，他又听了一会，“我好象听见……”

“什么？”

“狗叫的声音！”

“狗！”潘克洛夫跳起来喊道。

“是的……狗叫……”

“不可能！”水手说。“并且，在暴风雨里怎么……”

“别说话……听……”通讯记者说。

潘克洛夫又仔细听了一会儿，果然在风雨间歇的时候，听见远处好象有狗叫的声音。

“是不是？”通讯记者紧紧地握住潘克洛夫的手说。

“是……是的！”水手答道。

“是托普！是托普！”赫伯特一醒来就喊道。于是三个人一起向“石窟”的洞口冲去。他们想出去却非常困难。大风把他们吹得倒退。最后终于出去了，但是只能一动也不动地倚在岩石上。他们四面张望了一下，然而没法开口说话。夜色非常昏暗。海洋、天空和陆地都变成漆黑的一片。连一丝亮光都看不见。

通讯记者和他的伙伴们就这样站了几分钟，他们在狂风中毫无办法，浑身都被雨打湿了，眼睛让风沙迷得睁不开。

在暴风雨稍微停歇的时候，又听见狗叫了，他们断定声音的来源离这里还相当远。

一定是托普！然而它是孤零零的还是有人和它在一起呢？多半是孤零零的，假如纳布和它在一起，它一定能够往“石窟”来。潘克洛夫没法使别人听见他的话，就捏了一下通讯记者的手，意思是叫他“等一会儿！”然后水手就回到“石窟”里去了。

工夫不大，他拿了一束点着的干柴跑出来，把它扔在黑暗里，同时吹起了尖声的口哨。

好象远处就在等这个信号似的，狗叫声立刻接近了。不久以后，一只狗跑着跳着到通道里来。潘克洛夫、赫伯特和史佩莱都跟着它跑了进去。

火炭上加一把干柴，通道被照亮了。

“是托普！”赫伯特喊道。

果然是托普，它是一只美丽的盎格鲁——诺尔曼杂种狗，由于具有这两个品种的特点，它跑得既快，嗅觉又灵。猎狗特别需要具备这种优点。这正是工程师赛勒斯·史密斯的狗。但它是孤零零的！纳布和它的主人都没有和它在一起！

托普并不知道这里有个“石窟”，它的直觉怎么会把它直接带到这儿来的呢？这似乎是不可思议的，特别是在这茫茫的黑夜里，在这样的暴风雨中！更奇怪的是：托普显得既不疲倦，又不劳累，甚至身上连一点烂泥也没有！……赫伯特已经把它拉到自己的身旁来，拍着它的头，托普用它的脖子来回磨擦着少年的手。

“狗找到了，它的主人还能找不到吗？”通讯记者说。

“但愿上天保佑！”赫伯特说。“我们去找吧！托普会领路的！”

潘克洛夫没有表示反对。托普回来是出乎他的意料之外的。他说：“那么走吧！”

潘克洛夫仔细盖上灰堆里的火炭，又添了几块木柴在里面，使篝火能一直维持到他们回来。托普发着短促的叫声，好象要大家跟着它走似的。于是潘克洛夫用手帕把剩余的晚餐包起来带在身上，随着狗向外冲去，他的后面紧跟着通讯记者和少年。

这时候风雨正急，也许正在威力最大的时候。云端里没有丝毫月光透出来。要想直线前进是很困难的。最好还是跟着托普走。他们就这样做了。通讯记者和赫伯特紧跟着托普，水手走在最后。要想说话是不可能的。雨并不太大，然而风势非常猛烈。

但是有一点对水手和他的两个伙伴是有利的。这时刮的是东南风，正吹在他们的背后。大风在他们的身后扬起烟尘，但对于他们的前进毫无阻碍，如果风沙迎面扑来，那就没法抵挡了。一句话，他们常常不由自主地跑得很快，要想站住脚都不容易，尤其是希望给他们带来了力量。这一次他们并不是漫无目标地沿着海岸前进。他们深信纳布已经找到他的主人，因此才把忠实的托普打发回来喊他们。但是工程师是不是还活着呢？会不会是纳布喊他的伙伴们来一起给不幸的史密斯料理后事呢？

走过悬崖以后，赫伯特、通讯记者和潘克洛夫都小心地站在一旁，停下来喘息。岩石的转角有一个能避风的地方，经过这一番劳累——也就是十五分钟的奔跑——他们可以在这里歇一口气了。

现在他们彼此已能听见对方的话，而且也能够张嘴回答了。少年刚提到赛勒斯·史密斯，托普就发出几声急促的叫喊，好象是说，它的主人得救了。

“他得救了吗？”赫伯特反复地问，“得救了吗？托普？”

它叫了几声，表示回答。

他们又往前赶了。这时候潮水上涨了，在狂风的推动下，它达到了异乎寻常的惊人高度——这已经是春潮了。滔天的巨浪如同千军万马气势汹汹地奔腾过来，在礁石上撞击得粉碎，潮水大概把整个的小岛都淹没了，当时他们完全看不见它。现在沿岸已经没有长堤保护了，海滨直接遭受着大海的侵袭。

水手和他的伙伴们才离开悬崖，暴风就立刻重新向他们展开了攻势。虽然他们在大风里弯腰前进，但还是跑得很快，托普在前面领着路，方向固定，毫不犹豫。

他们朝着正北在上走去，右边是一片茫茫的大海，波涛在狂风中发出震耳欲聋的声响，左边是一片漆黑的土地，没法想象是什么样子。可是他们觉得那里比较平坦，因为风吹过去毫无阻碍，不象刮到悬崖上那样又折回来。

清晨四点钟的时候，他们估计大约已经走出五英里以外了。阴云稍微上升了一些，风里的水气虽然少了，但还是冰冷刺骨。由于衣服单薄，潘克洛夫、赫伯特和史佩莱都冻得受不了，但是他们丝毫也没有诉苦。他们决定跟随着托普，这头机灵的畜生走到哪里，他们就跟到哪里。

将近五点钟，天开始破晓。头顶上的迷雾比较稀薄。阴云的四周镶着一道浅灰色的边缘。在一带晦暗的天空下，一线白光清晰地标志出水平线，浪涛上端闪着动荡不定的亮光，水花又重新变成白色的了。这时候，左边丘陵起伏的海岸开始模糊地显现出来了，但也只是象黑底上的灰点那样难以辨别。

六点钟的时候，天亮了。密云迅速升起，水手和他的伙伴们离开“石窟”大约已经有六英里了。他们沿着一道宽阔的海滩前进，这一带沿海有很多礁石，不过都隐没在很深的海水中，很少露出水面。左边好象是一片广阔的沙丘，长着许多笔直向上的蓟草。这里没有悬崖，面临海洋的地方没有任何屏障，只有一堆堆错综零乱的山石。树木三三两两地丛生着，树身向西倾斜，枝干也朝着这个方向。在西南面的远方，伸展着森林的边缘。

这时候托普变得非常焦急。它跑到前面去，然后又跑回来，好象求他们走得快一些似的。然后它就离开了海岸，神秘的直觉，促使它毫不犹豫地一直在沙丘中走去。他们跟在后面。周围完全象一片沙漠。没有任何生物。

这片沙丘非常广阔，是由许多山石，甚至还有一些小山组成的，分布得很不平均。整个的地形象一个沙上做成的瑞士模型，只有具备惊人的直觉，才不至于迷路。

离开海岸以后五分钟，通讯记者和他的两个伙伴到了一个洞口，这个洞在一座很高的沙丘背后。托普在这里停住了，它一声比一声清楚而响亮地叫起来。史佩莱、赫伯特和潘克洛夫向洞里走去。

一个人直着身子躺在草铺上，纳布跪在他的旁边……

躺在那里的正是工程师赛勒斯·史密斯。