I had now reached a park-like stretch of country, the surface of which was clad with long, rich, luxuriant grass, thickly dotted with clumps of splendid trees, many of which were of immense height and girth, promising a rich yield of valuable timber, while others blazed with vivid scarlet flowers instead of leaves. These open park-like expanses of country, however, were of comparatively limited extent, the trees for the most part growing closely together, while the space between their trunks was choked with thick undergrowth, consisting of shrubs, bushes, and long, tough, flowering creepers, so densely and inextricably intermingled that it was sometimes impossible to force a way through it, and long détours became necessary in order to make any progress. But there were other spots, again, which conveyed the idea of natural gardens, for in them little else than fruit-bearing trees were to be found, among which I quickly recognised the banana, the plantain, the peach, the orange, the lime, the custard apple, the granadilla, to say nothing of many other kinds to which I was a stranger; while raspberries and strawberries were to be found almost everywhere. And a little later on in my walk I came here and there upon patches of melon plants in all stages, from that in which the blossom was just opening to that of the ripe and perfect fruit. A particularly rich and luscious-flavoured purple grape also appeared to be exceedingly abundant. Needless to say, I sampled these various fruits as freely as discretion permitted, while I filled my pockets with others to serve as dessert to my dinner. This meal I discussed, luxuriously reclining upon a thick bed of soft moss surrounding a spring of deliriously cold fresh water, that came bubbling up out of the earth in the shade of a thick grove of aromatic pines which constituted the last belt of timber before the bare soil surrounding the summit was reached.
Finally, after I had rested long enough to recover in a measure from the fatigue of my unwonted exertions, I left the scented shadow of the pine grove and, emerging into the blistering sunshine, manfully set myself to climb the last three hundred feet of steep, bare ascent that separated me from the highest point of the island.
The reason for the absolute bareness of the cone became apparent the instant that I stepped out of the shadow of the pines, for I immediately plunged ankle-deep in a loose deposit of ashes and pumice-stone that yielded to my tread and slid away under me to such an extent as to make progress almost impossible. But I was determined not to be beaten; and at length, after a full hour’s violent exertion, I found myself, breathless and with my clothing saturated with perspiration, standing, as I had expected, on the lip of the crater of an extinct volcano. The crater was almost mathematically circular in shape, of about a quarter of a mile in internal diameter, and fully five hundred feet deep; the sides of the cup were practically vertical, and everywhere so smooth that I could nowhere discover a spot where a descent into the crater would have been possible, even had I desired to go down into it. But I had no such inclination; for I could see all that I wished from the summit, the internal walls being absolutely bare, while the bottom was simply a lake of stagnant water, apparently not more than a few inches deep.
But if the interior of the crater offered little or nothing to attract the eye, it was far otherwise when I directed my gaze outward. The whole of the island, except the comparatively small strip that was hidden from me by the spreading rim of the crater, lay stretched out beneath me like a map, beautifully executed in relief and tinted by the hand of a master. Its groves, its brakes, its broad park-like expanses, its rocky glens, its picturesque ravines, its sparkling rivulets, its deeply indented coast line, its dazzlingly white beaches, the outline of its fringing reef, ay, and the long thin line of its barrier reef, with its spouting, leaping wall of snowy spray, reaching from north to south, and spreading far into the deep blue of the ocean to the eastward, were visible through that clear air with startling distinctness. Why, I could even detect the evanescent whiteness of the breaking surges far out beyond the barrier reef, where their crests were whipped into foam by the scourging of the fiery breeze. I considered that I commanded a horizon of nearly a hundred and twenty miles in diameter, yet throughout that wide stretch of ocean there was nothing visible save the island, no ship save the Mercury, floating like a tiny toy upon the placid, landlocked surface of the Basin. I keenly searched the horizon in every direction for signs of other land, but nowhere could I detect even the loom of it. We were absolutely alone here in our lovely island Eden; and there was no land in any direction near enough to cause us the slightest uneasiness as to incursions of hostile savages.
Two full hours, by my watch, did I spend upon the summit of the crater, slowly sauntering round its rim, feasting my eyes upon the surpassing beauties of the scene beneath and around me, and also sketching a rough map of the island for future use. Then, sated with enjoyment, and more than half-reconciled to the possibility that I might be compelled to spend the remainder of my life amid such glorious surroundings, I set about to effect my descent and return to the ship, following a route which I had mentally mapped out, as it seemed to promise easier going than the one by which I had ascended. Taking my time, choosing my ground, and winding hither and thither to avoid obstacles, I arrived at the beach just in good time to go off aboard with the last boatload of holiday makers, all of whom, though hot and weary with their long day’s ramble, were full of enthusiasm at the prospect of making their homes on so lovely and fertile a spot and in such a perfect climate.
At eight o’clock that night Wilde ascended the poop and, assuming the direction of affairs quite as a matter of course, gave orders for all hands to assemble in the waist in order that the business of electing the members of council—who, in conjunction with himself, were to frame the laws and order the affairs of the community—might be proceeded with. He opened the proceedings by explaining in detail precisely what the duties of the council were to be, incidentally mentioning the fact that, in consideration of the onerous and responsible character of those duties, the members would be absolved from the performance of any and every other kind of work. He dwelt at some length upon the qualifications which he considered indispensable for the efficient discharge of the duties of a member of council, enumerating, among others, wisdom, discretion, organising ability, and the faculty of anticipating and providing for the future needs of the community; and then himself proceeded to propose the six persons whom he considered best fitted to fill the office, all of them being chosen from among the emigrants!
At this stage of the proceedings Gurney promptly rose and intervened. He said that he fully agreed with the chairman both as to the necessity for extreme care in the choice of persons to fill positions of such heavy responsibility, and also as to the qualifications required in the holders of such positions. But, while he had nothing to say against the persons proposed by the chairman, he was of opinion that there was one person in the ship who, despite his extreme youth, was at least as fully qualified as any other individual among them to fill satisfactorily the position of a member of council, and who, moreover, had fully earned the distinction by piloting them to this beautiful island. He presumed that he need not add that he referred to young Mr Troubridge, to whose exceptional skill as a seaman and a navigator they all owed so much!
These remarks were greeted with so much enthusiasm that it was with the utmost difficulty I succeeded in making it understood—to Wilde’s manifest relief—that for certain good and sufficient reasons I must decline to accept the proffered office. But, I continued, it seemed to me not only a mistake but distinctly invidious that the seamen should be entirely excluded from the governing body; and I considered that, in common fairness to them, two at least of their number—to be chosen by themselves—ought to be included.
This proposal also was loudly applauded; and, after a great deal of rather heated discussion, Polson and Gurney, as representative of the officers and crew of the ship, were duly elected members of council; the other four being William Fell, once a solicitor’s clerk; Henry Burgess, lately a colliery agent; John Monroe, formerly a builder; and Samuel Hilary, late agricultural labourer. These four last, as may be readily understood, owed their election not so much to their superior qualifications as to the fact that they were red-hot Socialists, full of plans to enable everybody to enjoy a maximum amount of comfort at the cost of a minimum of labour; and they proved the sincerity of their doctrine by securing their own election to posts which freed them from the necessity to labour for themselves.