When my feet touched the ground again, I was deeply moved. Ned Land pressed his boots into the soil as if he wanted to claim the island for himself.
Only two months earlier, according to Captain Nemo, we had been merely “passengers aboard the Nautilus.” But in reality, we were prisoners under the control of its mysterious commander.
Within a few minutes, we were close enough to the shore that we could have fired a musket.
The entire horizon was covered by a magnificent wall of forest.
Huge trees, some rising nearly two hundred feet into the air, stood tightly packed together. Their branches were connected by twisting vines that hung like natural hammocks, gently moving in the breeze.
Mimosas, fig trees, hibiscus, and palm trees grew together in wild abundance. Beneath their green canopy, orchids, climbing plants, and countless ferns flourished.
But the Canadian paid little attention to these beautiful examples of Papuan nature.
Ned Land cared about one thing: food.
Suddenly, he spotted a coconut tree.
“Finally!” he shouted.
He quickly knocked down several coconuts, cracked them open, and we drank the fresh milk and ate the soft flesh inside.
After the endless meals aboard the Nautilus, this simple food seemed like a feast.
“Excellent!” said Ned Land.
“Wonderful!” replied Conseil.
“I don’t think Captain Nemo would object if we brought a whole load of coconuts back onto the ship.”
“I doubt he would object,” I said, “but he would probably never eat them.”
“Then that is his loss,” said Conseil.
“And our advantage,” added Ned Land. “There will be more for us.”
The Canadian immediately began attacking another coconut tree.
“Wait a moment, Ned,” I said. “Coconuts are valuable, but before filling our boat with them, we should explore the island. Perhaps we can find other useful plants. Fresh vegetables would be a welcome change aboard the Nautilus.”
“Professor is right,” said Conseil. “I suggest we reserve three spaces in the boat: one for fruit, one for vegetables, and one for meat from the animals we have not yet found.”
“Do not lose hope, Conseil,” said Ned.
“Let us continue exploring,” I replied. “Although the island appears deserted, there may be animals here that are easier to catch than we expect.”
“Ha! Ha!” said Ned Land, moving his jaws meaningfully.
“Well, Ned?” asked Conseil.
“I must admit,” replied the Canadian, “I am beginning to understand the attraction of eating human flesh.”
“Ned! What are you saying? You, a man-eater? I sleep in the same cabin as you. One morning I might wake up and discover that half of me has disappeared!”
“My dear Conseil,” said Ned, “I like you very much, but not enough to eat you without a good reason.”
“I would still not trust you,” replied Conseil. “But enough jokes. We must find some real game before this cannibal decides to eat his own servant.”
While we talked, we entered the dark depths of the forest and searched carefully for nearly two hours.
At last, our efforts were rewarded.
Among the plants we discovered one of the most useful foods of tropical regions: the breadfruit tree.
The island of Gilboa had many of these trees. I especially noticed a seedless variety known in Malaysia as the “rima.”
Ned Land knew this fruit well.
He had eaten it many times during his voyages and understood how to prepare it.
The moment he saw it, he became excited.
“Professor,” he said, “I will die if I cannot taste some breadfruit pie.”
“Then taste it, Ned. We are here to experiment. Go ahead.”
“It will not take long,” said the Canadian.
Using his knife, he lit a fire with dry branches. The flames soon crackled happily.
Meanwhile, Conseil and I selected the best breadfruits.
Some were not fully ripe yet. Their thick skin covered a white but rather tough flesh.
Others were yellow and soft, ready to be eaten.
The fruits had no seeds.
Conseil brought a dozen of them to Ned Land.
The Canadian sliced them into thick pieces and placed them on the hot coals.
“You will see, Professor,” he said, “this is better than ordinary bread. Especially after someone has been forced to live without it for so long.”
He smiled.
“Actually, it is not bread at all. It is more like a delicate pastry. Have you ever tasted it?”
“No, Ned.”
“Then prepare yourself for a wonderful discovery. If you do not ask for more afterward, I am no longer the greatest harpooner in the world.”
After a few minutes, the pieces exposed to the fire became perfectly roasted.
Inside, the fruit had turned into a soft white paste, with a flavor similar to an artichoke.
I must admit, it was excellent.
I ate it with great pleasure.
“What time is it?” asked Ned.
“Nearly two o’clock,” replied Conseil.
“How quickly time passes when you are standing on real ground!” sighed Ned.
“Then let us continue,” said Conseil.
We returned through the forest and gathered more supplies.
We collected cabbage-palm shoots from the tops of trees, small beans called “abrou” by the Malays, and excellent yams.
By the time we reached the boat, we were heavily loaded.
But Ned Land was still not satisfied.
Just as we were preparing to leave, he noticed several trees about twenty-five or thirty feet tall.
They were palm trees.
The Canadian’s eyes immediately lit up.
“Coconuts!” he shouted.
He rushed toward them and gathered more fruit.
At five o’clock in the evening, carrying all our treasures, we finally left the shore.
Half an hour later, we reached the Nautilus.
No one appeared.
The huge iron-covered submarine looked completely abandoned.
We carried our supplies inside, returned to our rooms, ate dinner, and then I fell into a deep sleep.
The next day, January 6th, nothing had changed.
There was no sound inside the Nautilus.
No sign of life.
The boat remained beside the shore exactly where we had left it.
We decided to return to the island.
Ned Land hoped that this time he would have better luck hunting.
At sunrise, we set out again.
The waves carried our boat toward the island, and within minutes we reached the shore.
We followed Ned Land, who marched ahead with his long legs moving quickly.
He led us west along the coast.
After crossing several streams, we reached a high plain surrounded by beautiful forests.
Kingfishers flew along the water, but they avoided us carefully.
Their caution showed me something important.
Even if the island was not permanently inhabited, humans had probably visited it before.
After crossing a wide meadow, we arrived at the edge of a small forest filled with birdsong.
“There are only birds here,” said Conseil.
“But birds can be eaten,” replied Ned.
“I disagree, my friend. I only see parrots.”
“Conseil,” said Ned seriously, “a parrot becomes a pheasant when a man has nothing else to eat.”
“And properly prepared,” I added, “this bird might be quite acceptable.”
The forest was filled with parrots of every color.
They flew from branch to branch, making endless noise.
There were colorful cockatoos that seemed to be thinking about some serious problem, bright red lories that flashed through the trees like pieces of flying cloth, and blue birds with magnificent feathers.
They were beautiful.
But most were not suitable for dinner.
However, one remarkable bird was missing.
A bird found only in the islands around Papua.
Soon, however, fortune brought it to us.
After crossing a thick area of bushes, we reached an open space.
There I saw magnificent birds with long flowing feathers.
Their unusual feathers forced them to fly against the wind.
Their graceful movements and brilliant colors immediately caught my attention.
I recognized them at once.
“Birds of paradise!” I cried.
The Malays who trade these birds with the Chinese have many methods for catching them.
They place traps high in the trees where the birds like to rest.
They use sticky substances to stop their movements.
Some even poison the water sources where the birds drink.
But we had none of those methods.
We could only shoot them while they were flying.
Our chances were poor.
Even after using half our ammunition, we had caught almost nothing.
By eleven o’clock, we had crossed the first mountains in the center of the island.
Still, we had no meat.
Hunger began to bother us.
We had depended too much on hunting.
Fortunately, Conseil suddenly fired two shots.
He returned carrying breakfast.
A white pigeon and a wood pigeon.
We quickly prepared them over the fire.
Ned also prepared breadfruit.
Soon the birds were roasted.
We ate every piece down to the bones.
The meat was delicious.
The pigeons had eaten nutmeg, which gave their flesh a wonderful flavor.
“Well, Ned,” I asked, “what do you want now?”
“Four-legged animals, Professor,” replied the Canadian. “These birds are only appetizers. I will not be satisfied until I have meat with real steaks.”
“Then I will not be satisfied until I catch a bird of paradise.”
“Let us continue hunting,” said Conseil. “We should return toward the forest.”
That was sensible advice.
After walking for another hour, we entered a forest of sago trees.
A few harmless snakes slipped away from us.
The birds of paradise fled whenever we approached.
I had almost given up hope when Conseil, walking ahead, suddenly bent down.
He shouted triumphantly.
Then he returned carrying a magnificent bird.
“Bravo, Conseil!”
“Master is too kind.”
“No, my boy. You have done extremely well. Carry this beautiful bird carefully.”
“If Master examines it closely, he will see that I do not deserve much praise.”
“Why not?”
“Because this bird is completely drunk.”
“Drunk?”
“Yes. Drunk from eating too many nutmegs beneath the tree where I found it.”
Ned laughed.
“Excellent! Because I drank gin for two months, I suppose you will now criticize me too!”
I examined the strange bird.
Conseil was right.
The creature was powerless.
It could barely stand and could not fly at all.
It was one of the most beautiful of the eight known species living in Papua and nearby islands.
It was the rare “great emerald bird.”
Nearly three feet long, it had a small head and small eyes.
Its beak was yellow.
Its feet were brown.
Its wings were chestnut-colored with purple tips.
Its neck and head were pale yellow, while its throat and chest shone with emerald green and deep brown colors.
Two delicate feather formations extended from beneath its tail, completing the beauty of this magnificent creature.
The natives poetically called it the “bird of the sun.”
Although I was delighted with my discovery, Ned Land was still searching for something else.
Luckily, around two o’clock, the Canadian finally brought down a magnificent wild pig.
The natives called this animal a “bari-outang.”
At last, we had real meat.
Ned was extremely proud.
The animal had been killed instantly by the electric projectile.
He carefully cleaned it and cut out several chops for our evening meal.
Then the hunt continued.
Soon Ned and Conseil discovered a herd of kangaroos.
The animals escaped quickly, jumping through the forest.
But they could not outrun our electric weapons.
“Professor!” shouted Ned. “What wonderful animals! Imagine having this meat aboard the Nautilus!”
“Two! Three! Five already!”
“And those fools on the submarine will not get even a single piece!”
The Canadian was so excited that, if he had spent less time talking, he might have killed every animal on the island.
Instead, he settled for about twelve.
They were small kangaroos, a species that usually lived in tree hollows.
They were incredibly fast but provided excellent meat.
We were very satisfied with the results of our hunt.
Ned wanted to return the next day and completely empty the island of all edible animals.
But he had forgotten one important thing.
At six o’clock in the evening, we returned to the shore.
Our boat waited in its usual place.
The Nautilus rose from the waves two miles offshore, looking like a long dark rock.
Ned immediately began preparing dinner.
Cooking was one of his talents.
The wild pig roasted over the coals soon filled the air with an irresistible smell.
The meal was extraordinary.
Two wood pigeons completed the feast.
We also enjoyed sago paste, breadfruit, mangoes, several pineapples, and a drink fermented from coconut juice.
The happiness of my companions was so great that I began to think their imagination was becoming dangerous.
“Suppose we do not return to the Nautilus tonight?” said Conseil.
“Suppose we never return at all?” added Ned Land.
At that exact moment, a stone suddenly flew through the air and landed at our feet.
It ended the harpooner’s hopeful suggestion.