Mysterious Island Page #3

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Yes, of course.

So if you will excuse us, gentlemen.

All right, gentlemen.

Gentlemen...

...we'll sleep out here.

Each of us will take a two-hour

watch on guard. I'll stand first.

-Neb, you next.

-Yes, sir.

Tomorrow we'll find timber for the boat.

One of us will stay here with the women.

I'll stay.

I thought you'd volunteer for that.

-Neb, you'll stay.

-Yes, sir.

This is magnificent country.

A man could write an inspired novel

in a place like this.

Looks like a good stand of

timber up there.

Supply of fresh water down here.

Pencroft, fill the cask.

Now look, I'm not...

Yes, sir.

Maybe we ought to move over to this side

of the island permanently, Captain.

You read my mind, Herbert.

I think we ought to take a look

down here on the beach first...

...to see if there's a good place

where we can build and launch the boat.

How do you expect to cut down

trees this size with a stone axe?

By putting our backs into it,

Mr. Spilett.

What a spooky place this is.

Looks like someone hung down ropes.

No, those are vine creepers.

They might have been hung there

all the same, to climb up.

-Who'd want to climb up there?

-Who saved the Captain? Who built his fire?

-Maybe it grew there naturally.

-Vines don't grow out of solid rock.

Feels strong enough to take a man's weight.

Now, you stay down here.

I'll take a look.

''And so I have decided that a life such

as this is no longer worth living.

''I therefore bequeath all

my worldly possessions to whosoever...

''...shall discover my remains.

''A curse upon the brigands who

have abandoned me to suffer and to die.''

Signed, ''Thomas Ayrton. August 13, 1862.''

I'd trade all his worldly possessions

for one good axe.

I wonder why he never drank this up.

Probably was a teetotaller.

It tastes.... It smells mighty good.

If you're looking for a story to write...

...there's a great one

in that diary for you, Mr. Spilett.

You know, Herbert, you're right.

Thomas Ayrton, honest seaman,

falls in with a gang of cutthroat pirates...

...and is cast away by them

on this mysterious island...

...with his tongue cut out

so he won't reveal their secrets.

Alone, he degenerates

into animal savagery...

...and finally, disgusted

with his bestiality...

...insane with hunger for

the human company-

Just a minute now, Mr. Spilett.

Isn't all that just a little flowery?

That's what the reading

public wants today.

He hangs himself from the rafters

of a prehistoric cave.

The death of an ex-pirate.

''Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!''

What's wrong with you?

Up the Jolly Roger!

''Fifteen men on a dead man's chest''

He's been swizzling this stuff.

This is our place,

and everything in it.

Says so in his diary.

That's quite true, Pencroft.

This is ideal.

Perfect shelter, perfect safety.

And a fine place from which to carry

out our boat building operations.

And, if I may say so, gentlemen...

...solid as a rock.

We called our new place

''The Granite House.''

And our proudest achievement was

the construction...

...of a homemade elevator.

A real engineering feat.

t made it easier for us to bring in

whatever provisions we could find.

We attempted to equip the place

with as many modern conveniences...

...as we knew how.

The women added a few welcomed,

feminine touches...

...which turned the

cave into a home...

...while we went off to

attend to the other work.

There was timber to cut,

and the boat which had to be built.

None of it was easy.

We lived like primitive men,

using primitive implements.

But ingenuity and hard work

were our most valuable tools...

...in our struggle to survive.

One tree down, but it took us days.

And whatever we did accomplish,

we still lacked many things...

...that would make life bearable.

And then, one afternoon,

Neb found something at the water's edge.

Captain, these knots

are tied sailor-fashion.

Hey!

-Look at that!

-Captain, rifles!

Breach loaders and ammunition!

Hey, Captain, what's in this box?

It's a compass, charts...

...and a sextant! We'll be able

to find out where we are.

There are hammers, saws, nails.

Hey, ladies, look at this.

Plenty of pots and pans.

Also a looking glass. And hairpins.

Hey, a telescope!

Man, there's nothing this chest ain't got.

Whoever packed this

certainly knew what we needed.

And exactly what we ought to read.

''The Life and Adventures of

Robinson Crusoe.''

Sorry.

It's mighty nice of you to do

this for me, Elena.

I intend to do it for all of you.

It's part of my job.

Captain Harding's order.

Front, please.

Mr. Spilett...

Thank you.

A few of the comforts of civilization

make life quite bearable.

That depends on how many comforts

one's been used to.

I'd say you'd never done

yourself badly, ma'am.

Why should I? But don't let

that mislead you.

I'm the best shot in the county,

and I think I could outride you at any time.

Probably outdrink you as well.

That's something we must put to

the test at a later date, ma'am.

At the moment,

my main comfort is your presence.

I'm not in much of a hurry

to leave this island now.

Well, I'm delighted to have

met you, Mr. Spilett.

I'd be even more delighted

if I knew where we were.

-Have you finished your calculations?

-Yes, ma'am. We're here.

How interesting.

Now I shall be able to say to my friends,

''Do you know Mr. Spilett?

''We ran into each other 36

degrees south, 150 degrees west.''

So much more intriguing

than the usual places.

And of course, this large body

of land is New Zealand.

New Zealand! How convenient.

I have a cousin twice removed,

he serves in the Colonial Office there.

Really?

In that case, ma'am, you'll be

delighted to know that you're only...

...one thousand eight hundred and...

...seventy-three miles away from him.

You work too hard, Captain.

Harder than any of us.

Don't you ever think of anything else?

I will, ma'am, as soon as we

get off this island.

Lady Mary, do you think that sea chest

could have come from your shipwreck?

I don't think so.

Nobody had any time to pack anything.

Captain, you seen this lettering?

''N-A-U....''

Nautilus!

Here, let me see that.

You're right. It must be from

the Nautilus.

-You mean the submarine?

-Captain Nemo's ship.

What a story that was.

-Do you remember, Lady Mary?

-No, I'm afraid I don't.

Possibly it was during

the hunting season.

It made the headlines in New York

and London for weeks.

This Nemo, with his...

...''submarine,'' did you call it?

Was he a man of some notoriety?

He was a monster, a devil.

What do you mean, he was a devil?

He was a genius.

Any man who could live under

water like a fish--

-Under what?

-Under water, ma'am.

This submarine was powered with some

incredible method he'd invented himself.

Nothing on the surface

could escape from it.

Precisely, Mr. Spilett.

And he used it to destroy

ships without warning.

Only warships, Captain.

He had a kink about war, Lady Mary.

A very sensible kink. He hated it.

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