he
imagination, appeared on this grand coast, which extended over a length
of eight or nine miles.

Cyrus Harding and his companions gazed, with a feeling of surprise
bordering on stupefaction. But, although they remained silent, Top,
not being troubled with feelings of this sort, uttered barks which were
repeated by the thousand echoes of the basaltic cliff. The engineer
even observed that these barks had something strange in them, like those
which the dog had uttered at the mouth of the well in Granite House.

"Let us go close in," said he.

And the "Bonadventure" sailed as near as possible to the rocky shore.
Perhaps some cave, which it would be advisable to explore, existed
there? But Harding saw nothing, not a cavern, not a cleft which could
serve as a retreat to any being whatever, for the foot of the cliff was
washed by the surf. Soon Top's barks ceased, and the vessel continued
her course at a few cables-length from the coast.

In the northwest part of the island the shore became again flat and
sandy. A few trees here and there rose above a low, marshy ground, which
the colonists had already surveyed, and in violent contrast to the other
desert shore, life was again manifested by the presence of myriads of
water-fowl. That evening the "Bonadventure" anchored in a small bay
to the north of the island, near the land, such was the depth of water
there. The night passed quietly, for the breeze died away with the last
light of day, and only rose again with the first streaks of dawn.

As it was easy to land, the usual hunters of the colony, that is to say,
Herbert and Gideon Spilett, went for a ramble of two hours or so, and
returned with several strings of wild duck and snipe. Top had
done wonders, and not a bird had been lost, thanks to his zeal and
cleverness.

At eight o'clock in the morning the "Bonadventure" set sail, and ran
rapidly towards North Mandible Cape, for the wind was right astern and
freshening rapidly.

"However," observed Pencroft, "I should not be surprised if a gale came
up from the west. Yesterday the sun set in a very red-looking horizon,
and now, this morning, those mares-tails don't forbode anything good."

These mares-tails are cirrus clouds, scattered in the zenith, their
height from the sea being less than five thousand feet. They look like
light pieces of cotton wool, and their presence usually announces some
sudden change in the weather.

"Well," said Harding, "let us carry as