“My friends,” said he, “our situation is, perhaps, deplorable; but, at any rate, it is very plain.  Either we are on a continent, and then, at the expense of greater or less fatigue, we shall reach some inhabited place, or we are on an island.  In the latter case, if the island is inhabited, we will try to get out of the scrape with the help of its inhabitants; if it is desert, we will try to get out of the scrape by ourselves.”

“Certainly, nothing could be plainer,” replied Pencroft.

“But, whether it is an island or a continent,” asked Gideon Spilett, “whereabouts do you think, Cyrus, this storm has thrown us?”

“I cannot say exactly,” replied the engineer, “but I presume it is some land in the Pacific.  In fact, when we left Richmond, the wind was blowing from the northeast, and its very violence greatly proves that it could not have varied.  If the direction has been maintained from the northeast to the southwest, we have traversed the States of North Carolina, of South Carolina, of Georgia, the Gulf of Mexico, Mexico, itself, in its narrow part, then a part of the Pacific Ocean.  I cannot estimate the distance traversed by the balloon at less than six to seven thousand miles, and, even supposing that the wind had varied half a quarter, it must have brought us either to the archipelago of Mendava, either on the Pomotous, or even, if it had a greater strength than I suppose, to the land of New Zealand.  If the last hypothesis is correct, it will be easy enough to get home again.  English or Maoris, we shall always find some one to whom we can speak.  If, on the contrary, this is the coast of a desert island in some tiny archipelago, perhaps we shall be able to reconnoiter it from the summit of that peak which overlooks the country, and then we shall see how best to establish ourselves here as if we are never to go away.”

“Never?” cried the reporter.  “You say ‘Never,’ my dear Cyrus?”

“Better to put things at the worst at first,” replied the engineer, “and reserve the best for a surprise.”

“Well said,” remarked Pencroft.  “It is to be hoped, too, that this island, if it be one, is not situated just out of the course of ships; that would be really unlucky!”

“We shall not know what we have to rely on until we have first made the ascent of the mountain,” replied the engineer.

“But to-morrow, captain,” asked Herbert, “shall you be in a state to bear the fatigue of the ascent?”

“I hope so,” replied the engineer, “provided you and Pencroft, my boy, show yourselves quick and clever hunters.”

“Captain,” said the sailor, “since you are speaking of game, if on my return, I was as certain of roasting it as I am of bringing it back—­”

“Bring it back all the same, Pencroft,” replied Harding.

It was then agreed that the engineer and the reporter were to pass the day at the Chimneys, so as to examine the shore and the upper plateau.  Neb, Herbert, and the sailor were to return to the forest, renew their store of wood, and lay violent hands on every creature, feathered or hairy, which might come within their reach.